"Waiting for you a long time, Nat!" He rubbed his
hands and chuckled at his own familiarity. "I saw you out there enjoying
yourself. What did you think of her, Nat?" He winked with such audacious
glee that, despite his own astonishment, Captain Plum burst into a
laugh. Obadiah Price held up a warning hand. "Tut, tut, not so loud!" he
admonished. His face was a map of wrinkles. His little black eyes shone
with silent laughter. There was no doubt but that he was immensely
pleased over something. "Tell me, Nat--why did you come to St. James?"
He leaned forward over the table, his odd white head almost resting on
it, and twiddled his thumbs with wonderful rapidity. "Eh, Nat?" he
urged. "Why did you come?"
"Because it was too hot and uninteresting lying out there in a calm,
Dad," replied the master of the _Typhoon_. "We've been roasting for
thirty-six hours without a breath to fill our sails. I came over to see
what you people are like. Any harm done?"
"Not a bit, not a bit--yet," chuckled the old man. "And what's your
business, Nat?"
"Sailing--mostly."
"Ho, ho, ho! of course, I might have known it! Sailing--_mostly_. Why,
certainly you sail! And why do you carry a pistol on one side of you and
a knife on the other, Nat?"
"Troublous times, Dad. Some of the fisher-folk along the Northern End
aren't very scrupulous. They took a cargo of canned stuffs from me a
year back."
"And what use do you make of the four-pounder that's wrapped up in
tarpaulin under your deck, Nat? And what in the world are you going to
do with five barrels of gunpowder?"
"How in blazes--" began Captain Plum.
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