Blow the Man Down - A Romance of the Coast
Page 35"Mother o' mermaids!" muttered the yacht-owner in the ear of the man
nearest. "Is the old rat still privateering?"
The men in the tender stood up and removed their caps.
"You have insulted these gentlemen, father!"
Captain Candage knew it, and that fact did not soften his anger in the
least. At the same time this appearance of his own daughter to read him
a lesson in manners in public was presumption too preposterous to be
endured; her daring gave him something tangible for his resentment to
attack.
He turned on her. "You go below where you belong."
"I belong up here just now."
"Down below with you!"
"You ain't ashore now, miss, to tell me when to wipe my feet and not
muss the tidies! You're on the high seas, and I'm cap'n of this vessel.
Below, I say!"
"These gentlemen know the Polly, and they will find out the name of
the man who commands her, and I don't propose to have it said that the
Candages are heathens," she declared, firmly. "If you do not apologize,
father, I shall apologize for you." She tried to crowd past him to the
rail, but he clapped his brown hand over her mouth and pushed her back.
His natural impulse as commander of his craft dominated his feelings as
a father.
"I'll teach ye shipboard discipline, Polly Candage," he growled, "even
"Hold on there, if you please, captain," called the spokesman of the
yachtsmen.
Captain Candage was hustling his daughter toward the companionway. But
there was authority in the tone, and he paused and jutted a challenging
chin over his shoulder.
"What have any of you critters got to say about my private business?"
The formality of the man in the tender was a bit exaggerated in his
reply. "Only this, sir. We are going away at once before we bring any
more trouble upon this young lady, to whom we tender our most respectful
compliments. We do not know any other way of helping her. Our protests,
being the protests of gentlemen, might not be able to penetrate; it
The skipper of the Polly did not trouble himself about the finer
shadings in that little speech, but of one fact he felt sure: he
had been called a rhinoceros. He released his daughter, yanked the
marlinespike away from Otie, who had been holding himself in the
background as a reserve force, and stamped to the rail. He poised his
weapon, fanning it to and fro to take sure aim. But the engineer had
thrown in his clutch and the speed boat foamed off before the captain
got the range, and he was too thrifty to heave a perfectly good
marlinespike after a target he could not hit, angry as he was.