“I'm afraid I'm too much inclined to look on the dark side,” confessed Captain Candage. “You're going to find 'em all agin' ye ashore, sir. But the last words my Polly tells me to say to you was to keep up your courage and not to mind my growling. She thinks We have got a sure thing here--and that shows how little a girl knows about men's work!” And yet, that one little message of good cheer from the main so comforted Mayo that he went on his way with the whimsical thought that girls who knew just the right time to give a pat and bestow a smile did understand man's work mighty well. XXVIII ~ GIRL'S HELP AND MAN'S WORK We know the tricks of wind and tide That make and mean disaster, And balk 'em, too, the Wren and me, Off on the Old Man's Pastur'. Day out and in the blackfish there Go wabbling out and under, And nights we watch the coasters creep From light to light in yonder. --The Skipper. It was the period of January calms--that lull between the tempest ravings of the equinoxes, and the _Ethel and May_ made slow time of it on her return to the main. In Mayo's mood of anxious impatience, hope in his affairs was as baffling as the winds in the little schooner's sails. His passenger sat on the rail and gave the pacing captain occasional glances in which irony and sullenness were mingled. “So you're going to put me into court, eh?” he inquired, when at last they drifted past the end of the breakwater at Limeport. “Well, that will give you a good excuse for throwing up your work on that wreck.” Mayo kept on walking and did not reply. He had been pondering on the question of what to do with this new “elephant” on his hands. In a way, this stranger was an unwieldy proposition to handle in conjunction with the problem of the _Conomo_. “Just understand that I don't give a hoot in a scuttlebutt if you do turn me over to the police,” pursued the man. “I'm going to be taken care of. So will you! You'll be tied up! Courts like to have chief witnesses attend strictly to the job.” The young man had only a sailor's vague knowledge of the procedure of courts of law; but that knowledge and considerable hearsay had convinced him that law was lagging, exacting, and overbearing. All his time, his best efforts, his presence were needed in the gigantic task he had undertaken at Razee. To allow himself to be mired in a law scrape together with this person, even in criminal prosecution of the man, surely meant delay, along with repeated interruption of his work, if not its abandonment for a time. “Where's your boss?” he demanded, stopping in front of the prisoner. “Name, please?” “Don't try to bluff me. Fogg, I mean!” “You'll probably find Mr. Fogg at the Nicholas Hotel.” “I'm going to walk you up there. If you try to run away--” “Run your Aunt Huldah! Piff, son! Now you're showing sense. Take me to Mr. Fogg. You'll be shown a few things.”