.. fought for ye... called me a thief!"
"Was that you tapping on the dock?"
Greer nodded resentfully. "And ye insulted me for it."
"I'm sorry... I was almost wild that night. I'll apologize... before the
crew."
"I don't care nothing about that dull English crew." This strange
fellow's tone carried in it an illiterate man's undying resentment.
"Since you feel that way," panted Madden at last, "I think I ought to
tell you--he took the medicine chest," Leonard nodded at the finely
carved motionless face that lay on the float before them.
"Him!" gasped Greer.
Leonard nodded. "He wanted the alcohol in it."
"And you call him a _gentleman_?"
Leonard nodded again. "Somehow I still call him a gentleman. He's hurt,
sick, bruised, but he's a gentleman."
"Well I don't!"
At that moment, the buoy under Caradoc's head bumped into a wooden wall
and upset their swimming arrangements.
They were under the overhang of the mysterious schooner.
CHAPTER VIII
THE MYSTERY SHIP
Waves from the exhausted swimmers sent bright streaks of watershine
wavering up the green hull over Madden's head. Utter silence pervaded
the vessel. There was no creaking of spar or block. Hot tar stood in her
seams in the beating sunshine.
The boys kicked wearily through the tepid water to the schooner's prow,
where Greer succeeded in catching the bobstays and climbing aboard.
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