“We certainly have,” declared Miss Howes, with emphasis.

“Yes, you see—­”

She gave a brief history of the cruise and wreck of the depot-wagon.  Also of their burglarious entry of the house.

“And now, Cap’n,” she said, in conclusion, “if you could think up any way of our gettin’ to that hotel, we’d be ever so much obliged. . . .  Hello!  There’s that driver, I do believe!  And about time, I should say!”

From without came the sound of wheels and the voice of Winnie S., hailing his missing passengers.

“Hi!  Hi-i!  Where be ye?”

“He’ll wear his lungs out, screamin’ that way,” snapped Thankful.  “Can’t he see the light, for goodness sakes?”

Captain Obed answered.  “He couldn’t see nothin’ unless ’twas hung on the end of his nose,” he said.  “That boy’s eyes and brains ain’t connected.  Here, Kenelm,” turning to Mr. Parker, “you go out and tell Win to shut down on his fog whistle; he’s wastin’ steam.  Tell him the women-folks are in here.  Look alive, now!”

Kenelm looked alive, but not much more than that.

“All right, Cap’n,” he stammered.  “A—­a—­all right.  What—­what—­shall I say—­what shall I—­had I better—­”

“Thunderation!  Do you need a chart and compass?  Stay where you are.  I’ll say it myself.”

He strode to the window, threw it open, and shouted in a voice which had been trained to carry above worse gales than the present one: 

“Ahoy!  Ahoy!  Win!  Fetch her around aft here.  Lay alongside the kitchen door!  D’you hear?  Ahoy!  Win! d’you hear?”

Silence.  Then, after a moment, came the reply.  “Yup, I hear ye.  Be right there.”

The captain turned from the window.

“Took some time for him to let us know he heard, didn’t it,” he observed.  “Cal’late he had to say ‘Judas priest’ four or five times afore he answered.  If you cut all the ‘Judas priests’ out of that boy’s talk he’d be next door to tongue-tied.”

Thankful turned to her relative.

“There, Emily,” she said, with a sigh of relief.  “I guess likely we’ll make the hotel this tack.  I begun to think we never would.”

Captain Bangs shook his head.

“You won’t go to no hotel this night,” he said, decidedly.  “It’s a long ways off and pretty poor harbor after you make it.  You’ll come right along with me and Kenelm to his sister’s house.  It’s only a little ways and Hannah’s got a spare room and she’ll be glad to have you.  I’m boardin’ there myself just now.  Yes, you will,” he added.  “Of course you will.  Suppose I’m goin’ to let relations of Eben Barnes put up at the East Wellmouth tavern?  By the everlastin’, I guess not!  I wouldn’t send a—­a Democrat there.  Come right along!  Don’t say another word.”

Both of the ladies said other words, a good many of them, but they might as well have been orders to the wind to stop blowing.  Captain Obed Bangs was, evidently, a person accustomed to having his own way.  Even as they were still protesting their new acquaintance led them to the kitchen door, where Winnie S. and a companion, a long-legged person who answered to the name of “Jabez,” were waiting on the front seat of a vehicle attached to a dripping and dejected horse.  To the rear of this vehicle “General Jackson” was tethered by a halter.  Winnie S. was loaded to the guards with exclamatory explanations.