Hospitatlity, Per Julius Marston

The fact that a motor-boat had come popping out of Saturday Cove in
pursuit of the schooner suggested that Mate McGaw had suspected what had
happened, and was not dragging the cove-bottom for a drowned man.

Mayo had plenty of time for pondering on the matter, and he allowed hope
to spice his guesses. He knew Mate McGaw's characteristics and decided
that the yacht would get under way early, would nose into a few near-by
harbors where a gale-ridden schooner might have dodged for safety, and
then would chase down the sea, following the probable course of a craft
which had been caught in that nor'easter. Mate McGaw was a sailorly man
and understood how to fit one fact with another. He had a due portion of
mariner's imagination, and was not the sort to desert a chum, even if
he were obliged to use stiff speech to convert an owner. Therefore, Mayo
peered toward the blue shore-line, coddling hope. He wondered whether
Mate McGaw would have courage to slip a word of encouragement to Alma
Marston if she asked questions.

Mayo was elated rather than astonished when he spied a smear of drab
smoke and was able to determine that the craft which was puffing that
smoke was heading out to sea, not crawling alongshore.

"That's a fisherman all right, and he's bound to come clost enough to
make us out," stated Captain Candage, his steady gaze to southward.