"Wish he hadn't spied us, though." She drifted out of hearing while the gray-head yelled something about a dance at the Bay of Bulls and a dead man in the foc'sle.

Harvey shuddered.

He had seen the sloven tilled decks and the savage-eyed crew.
"An' that's a fine little floatin' hell fer her draught," said Long Jack.

"I wondher what mischief he's been at ashore." "He's a trawler," Dan explained to Harvey, "an' he runs in fer bait all along the coast.

Oh, no, not home, he don't go.