"Why, no, he didn't see me, I reckon," said the sailor, with surprise.

"Good!" exclaimed Captain Black. "Pick up that sack and come on. I'll tell you what I want, on the way."

Sam Black shouldered the sack, and they started back in the direction of the sh.o.r.e.

"That little rascal, Artie Jenkins, is the meanest crimp in Baltimore!"

exclaimed Captain Bill. "Fools us, right along," he added, with virtuous indignation. "What's the use of crimping a man as won't be any good when he's down the bay? That's what I want to know. He does it right along. I say as how it's a shame to knock a man out and use him like they do, unless he's going to be some good to us, when we get him. That's why Ham Haley and I have got it in for Artie Jenkins."

"Now," continued Captain Bill, "I'm going to send you back there again, to ship with him aboard my bug-eye. Do you understand? He'll come down with you here to-night, and we'll attend to the rest. You don't know anything about me nor my dredger-understand?"

Sam Black grinned.

"I'll fix him," he said. "I'm against all crimps."

It was three o'clock when captain and man went aboard the dredger at Sotterly. A half-hour later, there emerged from the cabin an individual resembling Sam Black only in face and form; he was dressed in "sh.o.r.e"

clothes, furnished from the captain's own supply. Save for a bit of a roll in his gait, he might have pa.s.sed for a farmhand. He went rapidly, with long strides, up the road he had come shortly before.

At five o'clock that afternoon, Artie Jenkins stepped from a dooryard in the town and walked slowly down the road in the direction of the store.

He toyed with a lighted cigarette, and seemed thinking, deeply.

"I'm afraid I can't make it," he murmured. "My own town, too. Still business is business-there's Tom Carver-no, I couldn't get him. Hang the luck-"

He was interrupted, unexpectedly. A man suddenly appeared from the side of the road, and waited for him to come up. It was dusk, but Artie Jenkins perceived that the man was a stranger in the town. He noted his appearance. Could this be a stroke of luck?

"What might the name of this place be?" inquired the stranger.

"Hollywood," replied Artie Jenkins. "Never 'round these parts before?"

"No," said the man. "I come from up yonder, Hillville. Lost my job on a farm there. Nothing doing now. Know of anyone that would like a good man to work around a place?"

Artie Jenkins puffed at his cigarette, while his sallow cheeks, unhealthy and pale, showed a tinge of colour. He turned to the man and put a hand on his shoulder, patronizingly.

"Well, if you're not in luck!" he cried. "You hit on the one man in all Hollywood that can help you out. There isn't a job in town for a farm hand now, but I can get you a nice, easy berth on an oysterman for the rest of the season. Ever on one?"

"Never was off land but once on a steamer," replied the man. "Always thought as how I'd like to go a voyage, too. Kind of hard work, though, isn't it?"

"A sight easier than farming," answered Artie Jenkins. "Easiest in the world, if you get the right captain. Funny how you happened along. Why, it wasn't but a few hours ago that I met a captain I know, that wanted a man. He'll pay twenty-five a month, and everyone says Captain Bill feeds his men like aldermen. Fresh meats and vegetables and a bit extra on Sundays and holidays."

"He does that, eh, this ere Cap'n Bill you speaks of?" said the stranger.

"That's his reputation," a.s.sured Artie Jenkins.

The man turned his head away, to hide a grin.

"I guess I'll try it," he said, "if you'll go along and fix it up for me."

"Sure," said Artie Jenkins. "I like to oblige a man when I see he's in hard luck. You wait down there at the store for me, till I get my big coat. I'll be along soon. By the way, what's your name?"

"Sam Black," replied the stranger.

Sam Black, seating himself discreetly outside the store, on a step, not to be observed from within, allowed his grin to expand and give vent in a hoa.r.s.e guffaw, as Artie Jenkins was lost to view.

"Reckon I'll like them extras on Sundays and holidays," he muttered, and roared again. "And p'raps somebody else will like 'em too-if he gets 'em."

Half an hour later, Artie Jenkins and his prize went along down the road in the dark of early nightfall, in the direction of Sotterly landing. It was nearly eight o'clock when they arrived at the sh.o.r.e of a cove some distance across from the wharf, and made out the masts and hull of the bug-eye. It lay a little off from sh.o.r.e, with a lantern in the fore-shrouds.

Artie Jenkins put his fingers to his lips and gave forth several shrill whistles. The figure of a man presently appeared, in the light that gleamed from the cabin, and stepped on deck.

"h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo, Captain Bill," called Artie Jenkins.

The man replied; they saw him step into a small skiff alongside and row toward them. He drew the skiff to sh.o.r.e, a few minutes later, and approached.

"Good evening, Mr. Jenkins," he said. "Who's this-somebody that wants to ship?"

"Yes, and a good man, too," replied Artie Jenkins. "He's been farming, and thinks he'd like oystering with you better. I've known him two years; he's been at work up in Hillville. His name is Sam Black."

Captain Bill's chuckle was unheard by Artie Jenkins.

"You'll know him a lot better," he said to himself; and added, aloud, "All right. Kind of you to fetch him down. Come out aboard and have something."

The three got into the skiff, and Captain Bill rowed them out to the bug-eye.

"I'll see you in a minute or two," he said to Sam Black, motioning to him to go forward. "Come on down, Mr. Jenkins;" and he whispered, "I've got the ten dollars ready for you, and a drop of something for the cold."

The two descended into the cabin.

A moment later, Captain Bill's mate quietly drew the anchor off bottom, took a turn with the rope about the bitts, then stepped to the halyards and raised the foresail a little. The bug-eye drifted out into the current, caught the tide and was carried a way up-stream. The foresail was run up till it was all set. Sam Black had crept cautiously aft to the wheel, and the craft now turned, under headway, and began creeping downstream, slowly.

"Here's the money," said Captain Bill, fumbling about in a wallet that he had produced. "Sit down. Make yourself at home. You've had a long walk-"

Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang to his feet.

"You're drifting, aren't you, Captain Bill?" he said. "You're dragging your anchor, I think."

"No, I guess not," replied the other. "Sit down. I'll ask the mate, anyway."

He stepped to the companion and called out.

"Give her a bit more scope, mate," he cried. "Guess she is dragging a bit."

"Aye, aye, sir," responded the mate, and went on cautiously and quietly raising the foresail. The bug-eye was nearly in mid-stream.

Artie Jenkins suddenly sprang from his seat again, and started for the companion. A powerful hand on his shoulder restrained him.

"Let me go!" he cried, fiercely. "What kind of a trick do you call this?"

He wrenched, to free himself from the other's grasp; but he was drawn back. Captain Bill seized him by the throat and forced him down on one of the bunks.

"You're not going ash.o.r.e this trip," he said, sharply. "Captain Ham Haley and I have got a bone to pick with you."