The big tug Endeavor had encountered trouble and delay in towing the crippled steamer which she was sent out from Falmouth to rescue. Strong head winds kicked up an uncomfortable sea, hawsers parted, and twice the tug was compelled to let go and stand by until the weather moderated. It was all in the day’s work, but the mate grew impatient and was poor company at mess. Dan had left Eudora in trouble, and he yearned for some word. A minor regret was that he had not punched the head of William Marmaduke Mannice, who had so disturbed the peace of the white cottage by the harbor.
A week of battering struggle, and the Endeavor hauled her prize in past the Boston Light. At the agents’ office, Dan Sloan found a letter forwarded from Falmouth, and his frank eyes were suffused as he read Eudora’s message in which she had tried to hide the appeal to his courage and devotion. Wasting no time, he raced back to the Endeavor and interviewed her master as follows:
“I shall have to ask for a month’s leave, if you please, sir. If you can’t hold the berth for me, I’ll have to ship in some other boat when I come back. This is a hurry call.”
“Somebody sick, or have the police caught up with you, Dan?”
“Personal business, sir. And where the dickens are the Seven Islands? Ever hear of them?”
“If I bumped into ’em, I didn’t know it. On the level, are you in trouble again? No, you wouldn’t blush if you were, you hardened young sinner. Well, I hate to lose you. Come back as soon as you can. I’ll find some kind of a mate to fill in with. We’ll be idle, anyhow, for a couple of weeks. This last stunt plumb near jerked the engines out of her.”
Dan thanked him and jumped for a roll of charts in the wheelhouse. Coastwise, said Eudora, and a short voyage. It couldn’t be to the southward, for he knew his way through to the Florida Straits. Nova Scotia? The hasty search was in vain. He would try the hydrographic office and the government charts. Ramming some clothes into a bag, he waved his hand to the amused skipper, who assumed that a girl was at the bottom of it, and the Endeavor saw him no more. As he dashed into the hall of a building familiar to mariners, a spruce chap in a blue uniform hailed him gladly. Dan halted to smite his friend on the back and exclaim:
“Max Leonard, you loafer! How's the navy? Somebody told me battleships were hollow. Have you learned that much?”
“Promoted twice, you roughneck. Gunner’s mate, second class, and eating up the book stuff in the hope of winning out an ensign’s commission. Still in the Endeavor?”
“On and off, Max. Glory, I wish you were foot-loose for a few weeks. I need a pal.”
"I am,” grinned the petty officer. “My enlistment runs out to-morrow, and there’s a furlough coming to me before I take another hitch. Name the proposition.”
“To capture a schooner and a few little things like that. Come into the hydrographic office with me. I’m on a blind course so far.”
“Sure, Dan,” replied the gunner’s mate, who appeared to take life as it came. “The lieutenant in charge is a friend of mine—not one of the chesty kind that tries to put it all over an enlisted man. We were in a destroyer together. I’m on my way to see him now.”
They were affably received; and, better still, the lieutenant showed himself an expert navigator by finding the Seven Islands after pawing over several charts. He suggested:
“Go to Prince Edward Island and pick up some sort of a sailing craft or power boat from there. Drop me a line, will you, Leonard? It’s a safe bet you are up to something. Two of a kind, at a guess.”
“The St. John’s steamer sails to-morrow,” said Dan. “We are much obliged, lieutenant. Come along, Max. We’ll eat and discuss things.”
When the chivalrous mission had been confided to him, the navy man insisted on sharing the expenses of the relief expedition, but confessed that his balance with the paymaster at the Charlestown Yard was painfully small.
“It’s not up to you to spend a solitary cent,” warmly protested Dan. “This is my picnic. The saving habit didn’t take hold of me until lately, but I’m a couple of hundred strong. We’ll go as far as we can and swim the rest of the way.”
A week later, they were bargaining with an amphibious citizen of George town for the hire of a leaky sloop which looked unfit to take to sea. They could afford nothing better after reserving cash enough for provisions. So long as this dilapidated tub could stay afloat and carry sail, they saw no cause for worry. Notwithstanding the verdict of Eudora, a reckless lover had his advantages. A prudent one would have remained at home.