“Are you presuming to discuss my daughter's insanity with me?” He noticed that the sailors were preparing to hoist the tender to the davits. “Drop that boat back into the water!” he shouted. There was an ugly rasp in his voice, and for a moment it seemed as if he were about to lose control of himself. Then he set a check on his temper and tongue, though his face was deathly white and his eyes were as hard as marbles. Resolve to end further exhibition in this incredible business dominated his wrathful shame. “If you will set us ashore--” pleaded Mayo. “Get back into that boat, you and your gang, whatever it is!” “Mr. Marston, this young woman needs--” “Get into that boat, or I'll have the bunch of you thrown overboard!” The owner spoke in low tones, but his furious determination was apparent. “We will go without being thrown, sir. Will you order us set aboard that fisherman?” He pointed to the little schooner which was almost within hailing distance. “Get off! I don't care where you go!” He crowded past Mayo, seized his daughter's arm, and led her aft. She seemed to have expended all her determination in her sensational outburst. The captain met her pleading gaze as she turned to leave. “It's for the best,” he declared, bravely. “I'll make good!” The pathetic castaways from the _Polly_ made a little group at the gangway, standing close to the rail, as if they feared to step upon the white deck. Mate McGaw intercepted Mayo as he was about to join them. “Hadn't I better stretch Section Two of the collision act a mite and scare him with the prospect of a thousand-dollar fine?” asked the mate, eagerly. “My glory, Captain Mayo, I'm so weak I can hardly stand up! Who'd have thought it?” “We'll go aboard the schooner, Mr. McGaw. It's the place for us.” “Maybe it is, but I'll speak up if you say the word, and make him set you ashore--even if I leave along with you?” “Keep your job, sir. Will you pick up my few little belongings in my stateroom and bring them to me, Mr. McGaw? I'd better stay here on deck with my friends.” He emphasized the last word, and Captain Candage gave him a grateful look. “I'm sorry, mates! I can't say any more!” Captain Mayo did not allow himself to make further comment on the melancholy situation. The others were silent; the affair was out of their reckoning; they had no words to fit the case. Polly Candage stood looking out to sea. He had hoped that she would give him a glance of understanding sympathy, at least. But she did not, not even when he helped her down the steps into the tender. Mate McGaw came with the captain's bag and belongings, and promptly received orders from the owner from the quarter-deck. “Go on to the bridge and hail that schooner. Tell her we are headed for New York and can't be bothered by these persons!” Mr. McGaw grasped Mayo's hand in farewell, and then he hurried to his duty. His megaphoned message echoed over their heads while the tender was on its way.