Читать книгу Ocean Tramps онлайн

7 страница из 81

No port authorities, no harbour police, no sign of life but the anchor lights of a brigantine and a bêche-de-mer boat—that also was Papaleete. On board the Araya the anchor watch was snoring; kicked awake and rubbing its eyes, it jumped to the voice of white authority. The returned boat was a certificate that the new white fellow mas’rs were representatives of white fellow mas’r Penhill and Penhill’s character was an antidote to loving inquiries.

“They’re a sprightly lot,” said Harman as the main boom swung to starboard and the great sail filled, tugging at the sheet. “Monkeys to jump an’ no tongues to ask questions.”

“That’s Penhill,” said Davis, “he’s milled them into brute beasts, not that they wanted much milling, but there you are, he done his best and I reckon we’re profiting by it.”

II

Four days later they had cut Capricorn, discovered the sailing qualities of the Araya, and taken stock of ship and cargo. There was also Penhill’s gold watch and eighteen hundred dollars of ship’s money. Davis calculated it all up and said he reckoned that the account between him and Penhill was clear.