"There isn't any trouble. Do you think I've killed somebody?--No. Do you think I've robbed somebody?--No. Do you think I've set somebody's house on fire?--No. Do you think I've stolen somebody's chickens?--No. Nothing of the sort. I want to know whether you can keep your tongue still. Let us see. There's the Juno." "Somebody will see your boat, and know that you have been here--" "That's my business, not yours. Don't bother your head with what don't concern you," growled the passenger. The Juno was afloat, but she could not have been so many minutes, when Donald came alongside of her. It was now about half tide on the flood, and she must have grounded at about half tide on the ebb. This fact indicated that Captain Shivernock had left her at four o'clock in the morning. The owner of the Juno stepped into her, and Donald hoisted the sail for him. The boat was cat-rigged, and about twenty-four feet long. She was a fine craft, with a small cabin forward, furnished with every convenience the limited space would permit. The captain seated himself in the standing-room, and began to heap maledictions upon the boat. "I never will sail in her again," said he. "I will burn her, and get a centre-board boat." "What will you take for her, sir?" asked Donald. "Do you want her, Don John?" demanded the captain. "I couldn't afford to keep her; but I will sell her for you." "Sell--" it is no matter what; but Captain Shivernock suddenly leaped back into Donald's boat, and her skipper wondered what he intended to do next. "She is yours, Don John!" he exclaimed. "To sell for you?" "No! Sell her, if you like, but put the money in your own pocket. I will sail up in your boat, and you may go to Jerusalem in the Juno, if you like. I will never get into her again," added the captain, spitefully. "But, Captain Shivernock, you surely don't mean to _give_ me this boat." "Do you think I don't know what I mean?" roared the strange man, after a long string of expletives. "She is yours, now; not mine. I'll give you a bill of sale as soon as I go ashore. Not another word, or I'll pound your head. Don't tell anybody I gave her to you, or that you have seen me. If you do there will be a job for a coffin-maker." The captain shoved off the boat, and laid her course across the bay, evidently to avoid Laud Cavendish, whose craft was a mile distant; for he had probably put in at Searsport. Donald weighed the anchor of the Juno, and sailed for Turtle Head, hardly knowing whether he was himself or somebody else, so amazed was he at the strange conduct of his late passenger. He could not begin to comprehend it, and he did not have to strain his logic very much in coming to the conclusion that the captain was insane. CHAPTER VI. DONALD GETS THE JOB.