It was on the tip of Mayo's tongue to argue the matter with the tugboat man, but he took second thought and shut his mouth. “You're probably right,” he admitted. “I'd better be moving. I don't see any fish jumping aboard our schooner. We've got to go and catch 'em. Good-by, Dodge.” When his associate came in over the rail of the _Ethel and May_ Captain Candage, from force of habit, having picked up his men, gave orders to let her off into the wind. “Hold her all-aback!” commanded Mayo. “Excuse me, Captain Candage, for a cross-order, but I've got a bit of news I want you to hear before we leave. The junk crowd has got cold feet and are going to sell as she stands, as soon as they get cargoes for those lighters.” “Well, she does lay in a bad way, and weather is making,” said the skipper, fiddling his forefinger under his nose dubiously. “They haven't even skimmed the cream off her--probably will get all her cargo that's worth saving and some loose stuff in the rigging line. By gad! what a chance for a gamble!” “It might be for a feller who had so much money he could kiss a slice of it good-by in case the Atlantic Ocean showed aces,” said the old man, revealing a sailor's familiarity with a popular game. “There is such a thing as being desperate enough to stake your whole bundle,” declared Mayo. “Captain, I'm young, and I suppose I have got a young man's folly. I can't expect you to feel the way I feel about a gamble.” “I may look old, but I haven't gone to seed yet,” grumbled the skipper. “What are you trying to get through you?” “That fat man on that lighter has a telegram in his pocket from his folks in Boston, ordering him to take the first offer that is made for the _Conomo_ as she stands. I'm fool enough to be willing to put in every dollar I've got, and take a chance.” Captain Candage stared at his associate for a time, and then walked to the rail and took a long look at the steamer. “I never heard of a feller ever getting specially rich in the fishing game,” he remarked. Mayo, wild thoughts urging him to desperate ventures, snapped out corroboration of that dictum.. “And I've known a lot of fellers to go broke in the wrecking game,” pursued Captain Candage. “How much have you got?” That question came unexpectedly. “I've got rising six hundred dollars.” He was carrying his little hoard in his pocket, for a man operating from the hamlet of Maquoit must needs be his own banker. “I've got rising six hundred in my own pocket,” said the skipper. “That fat man may have orders to take the first offer that's made, but we've got to make him one that's big enough so that he won't kick us overboard and then go hunt up a buyer on the main.” The two Hue and Cry fishermen who had ferried the young man were nesting their dory on top of other dories, and just forward of the house, and were within hearing. Neither captain noted with what interest these men were listening, exchanging glances with the man at the wheel.