“He means you no good, Captain Latham,” she said frankly.  “To-night he was repeating that silly story about the Seamew being haunted.”

“Cat’s-foot!” ejaculated Tunis.  “I wish I’d fired old Horry Newbegin for starting that.”

“But ’Rion keeps it up.”

“If he believed she was hoodoed, you wouldn’t get him aboard with a wire cable,” growled Tunis.

“It would be better for you and for the success of your business, Captain Latham, if ’Rion was really afraid of going aboard the Seamew,” she said with confidence.

“Well, I don’t see how I can fire him.  He’s my cousin—­in a way.  And there is enough ill feeling in the family now.  Gran’ther Peleg left all his money to me, and it made Orion and his folks as sore as can be.”

“You are inclined to be too kind.  I am not sure it is always wise to be too easy.”

“Like chopping off the dog’s tail an inch at a time, so’s not to hurt him so much, eh?” he chuckled.

“Something like that.”

“Well, I’m almost tempted to give ’Rion his walking ticket.  I’ve reason enough.  He can’t even keep a manifest straight.”

“Does he even try?”

“And that also is in my mind,” acknowledged Tunis.  “I’m pretty well fed up on ’Rion, I do allow.  But I don’t know what Aunt ’Cretia would say.”  Then he laughed again.  “Just about what she usually says, I guess; nothing at all.  But she abhors family squabbles.

“That reminds me, Ida May.  This being the first Sunday I’ve been home since you came here, I want you should go over with me after church to-morrow and have dinner at our house.”

“Oh, Captain Latham!  I—­”

“And don’t you guess you could employ some other term when speaking to me, Ida May?” he interrupted.  “I get ‘captained’ almost enough aboard the schooner and up to Boston.  Just plain ‘Tunis’ for those that are my friends suits me a sight better.”

“I shall call you ‘Tunis,’ if you like,” she said composedly.  “But about taking dinner with you—­I am not so sure.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Your aunt has never called here since I have been on the Head.”

“She don’t call anywhere.  She never did that I can remember.  She goes to church on Sunday sometimes.  Occasionally she has to go to town to buy things.  Once in a dog’s age she leaves anchor and gets as far as Paulmouth.  But other times she’s never off the place.”

“I—­I feel hesitant about doing what you ask, Captain—­Tunis, I mean.”

“Why?”

“You know well enough,” said Sheila.  “If anything should turn up—­if the truth should come out—­”

“Now, are you still worrying about that, Ida May?”

“Don’t you think of it—­Tunis?”

“Not a bit!  We’re as safe as a church.  That girl will never show up here on Wreckers’ Head.  Of course not!”

He seemed absolutely confident.  In the dim illumination of the lantern she looked very closely into his face.  Then it was not fear of exposure that kept Tunis Latham silent.  She moved closer to him, looking up into his countenance, holding the lantern so that her own face was in the shadow.