Fifteen minutes afterward you were setting the
skysails."
"It was a living gale, wasn't it, Mr. Higgins?" Captain Cullen said,
turning to the mate.
"If you'd brought her to, it'd have taken the sticks out of her," was
the mate's answer. "You did the proper thing, Captain Cullen. The man
hadn't a ghost of a show."
George Dorety made no answer, and to the meal's end no one spoke. After
that, Dorety had his meals served in his stateroom. Captain Cullen
scowled at him no longer, though no speech was exchanged between them,
while the _Mary Rogers_ sped north toward warmer latitudes. At the end
of the week, Dan Cullen cornered Dorety on deck.
"What are you going to do when we get to Frisco?" he demanded bluntly.
"I am going to swear out a warrant for your arrest," Dorety answered
quietly. "I am going to charge you with murder, and I am going to see
you hanged for it."
"You're almighty sure of yourself," Captain Cullen sneered, turning on
his heel.
A second week passed, and one morning found George Dorety standing in
the coach-house companionway at the for'ard end of the long poop, taking
his first gaze around the deck. The _Mary Rogers_ was reaching
full-and-by, in a stiff breeze.
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