and below them was the quiet sea,
rolling lazily under the stars. Overhead the big lanterns in the towers
thrust their parallel lances of light afar into the darkness. The
only sounds were the low wash of the surf and the hum of the eager
mosquitoes. Brown was silent, alternately puffing at the pipe and
slapping at the insects, which latter, apparently finding his skin
easier to puncture than that of the tanned and leathery Atkins, were
making the most of their opportunity.

Seth, whose curiosity had been checked but not smothered by his
companion's evident desire to say nothing concerning himself, was busy
thinking of various guileful schemes with which to entrap the castaway
into the disclosure of his identity. Having prepared his bait, he
proceeded to get over a line.

"Mr. Brown," he said, "I ain't mentioned it to you afore, 'count of your
needin' rest and grub and all after your fallin' overboard last night.
But tomorrer you'll be feelin' fustrate again, and I cal'late you'll be
wantin' to get word to your folks. Now we can telephone to the Eastboro
depot, where there's a telegraph, and the depot master'll send a
dispatch to your people, lettin' 'em know you're all safe and sound. If
you'll just give me the address and what you want to say, I'll 'tend
to it myself. The depot master's a good friend of mine, and he'll risk
sending the dispatch 'collect' if I tell him to."

"Thank you," replied Brown, shortly.

"Oh, don't mention it. Now who'll I send it to?"

"You needn't send it. I couldn't think of putting you to further
trouble."

"Trouble! 'Tain't no trouble to telephone. Land sakes, I do it four or
five times a day. Now who'll I send it to?"

"You needn't send it."

"Oh, well, of course, if you'd ruther send it yourself--"

"I sha'n't send it. It really isn't worth while 'phoning or telegraphing
either. I didn't drown, and I'm very comfortable, thank you--or should
be if it weren't for these mosquitoes."

"Comf'table! Yes, you're comf'table, but how about your folks? Won't
they learn, soon's that steamer gets into--into Portland--or--or--New
York or Boston--or . . . Hey?"

"I didn't speak."

Seth swallowed hard and continued. "Well, wherever she was bound," he
snapped. "Won't they learn that you sot sail in her and never got there?
Then they'll know that you MUST have fell overboard."

John Brown drew a mouthful of smoke through the stem of the pipe and
blew it spitefully among the mosquitoes.