An hour later the _Vagabond_ was swinging quietly from her anchor cable in the harbor of Provincetown. About her in the darkness the lights of other craft twinkled and the curving waterfront of the old town was dimly illumined. On the _Vagabond’s_ deserted deck only the riding light gleamed, but in the cabin all lamps were doing their best, there was a fine odor of steaming coffee and things fried and the crew and their guest were sitting around the table in the stateroom doing full justice to a dinner all the more enjoyable since so long delayed. Good humor had returned and everybody was in the best of spirits; unless, possibly, we except Spencer Floyd. It was difficult at all times to tell whether he was happy or unhappy. He seldom spoke unless spoken to, and his habitual expression was one of intense gravity. But he certainly had not lost his appetite; once Dan forgot his own hunger for nearly half a minute in marveling at Spencer’s capacity. Of course they talked and, equally of course, the subject of discourse was the day’s happenings. “I think we got out of the mess mighty luckily,” said Nelson. And the sentiment was indorsed by the others. It had taken fully ten minutes, Bob, Dan and Tom all talking together and at top speed, to acquaint Nelson with what had happened on deck, very little of which he had been able to glimpse from the engine room. “Only,” continued Nelson affectionately, “I think you were a great big galoot, Dan, to stand up there and bluff Captain Chowder with an empty revolver.” “The bluff worked, though,” laughed Dan. “I couldn’t find Bob’s box of cartridges anywhere, you see, and there wasn’t any time to lose. Maybe if the captain had looked a bit closer he would have seen that the cylinder was empty, but I had to chance that.” “Huh!” said Tom. “Bet you if I was in the captain’s place I wouldn’t waste any time examining the cylinder!” “That was a great tackle you made, Tom,” said Dan with a grin. “I hit the deck like a load of bricks. Gosh! I didn’t know what had struck me! Only you forgot, Tommy, that the new rules forbid tackling below the knees.” “I didn’t tackle you below the knees,” answered Tom promptly. “Felt like it!” “I don’t see but what Tommy’s the hero of the day, after all,” observed Bob. “I’m plumb sure I wasn’t! The way I got into the engine room when that old pirate came on deck with his gun must have been one of the sights of the trip!” “I guess the real hero,” said Dan, “was Nelson. Anyhow, he did the most practical thing and worked hardest.” “Hero be hanged!” replied Nelson, spreading his fifth slice of bread. “But you can bet I worked hard, all right! I thought I’d never get that old vaporizer together again. One of the parts got away and I couldn’t find it for weeks! And I didn’t know whether the thing would work any better after I got through with it. The first thing we do to-morrow is to empty that tank and fill up with some decent gasoline.”