"He's a nutty deckswabber we
picked up at 'Frisco."
"Why, it's Mr. Farnum," cried a fresh young voice from the circle.
The rescued man turned. His eyes joined those of a slim golden
girl and he was struck dumb.
"You know this man, Miss Frome?" the captain asked.
"I know him by sight." She stepped to the front. "There can't be
any doubt about it. He's Mr. Farnum of Verden, the editor of the
_World._"
"You're quite sure?"
"Quite sure, Captain Barclay. My cousin knows him, too."
The captain turned to Mrs. Van Tyle. She nodded languidly.
Barclay swung back to the mate of the _Nancy Hanks_ . "I know your
kind, my man, and I can tell you that I think the penitentiary
would be the proper place for you and your captain, with my
compliments to him."
"Better come and pay 'em yourself, sir," sneered the mate.
"Get off my deck, you dirty crimp," roared the captain. "Slide
now, or I'll have you thrown off."
Mr. Jones made a hurried departure. Once in the boat, he shook his
fist at Barclay and cursed him fluently.
The captain turned away promptly. "Mr. Farwell, if you'll step
this way the steward will outfit you with some clothes. If they
don't fit they'll do better than those togs you're wearing.
Pages:
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248