“No,” says Catty, “the man told us they were ripe now, and all we had to do was to dig them and shuck them.”
“I don’t see anything funny about it,” says Catty. “You were digging, too. Weren’t you after oysters?”
“No,” says Mr. Robbins, “we weren’t after oysters exactly. We were digging for——”
“Baked beans,” says Mr. House with a face as grave as a deacon’s. “Boston Baked Beans. This is the best bean beach in America. There are places where you get them with more pork, but not a place in the world where the beans themselves are half as large.”
Of a sudden Mr. Robbins got fierce, and he pointed his finger in Catty’s face, “Now, young man, no fooling, if you know what’s good for you. What did you see?”
“We saw you digging a hole, and you didn’t act like you were finding any—baked beans in the bottom of it,” says Catty.
“It was him gave me the chart,” says Mr. House.
“Where did you get that chart,” says Mr. Robbins.
“Hear any talk about us aboard your boat?”
“We kind of thought you were following us—the way you’ve stuck to us,” says Mr. House, and I was just going to say the shoe was on the other foot, when Catty gouged me with his elbow, and I said “Ourrumph” and then shut up.
“No,” says Catty, “we aren’t following anybody. We’re just cruising around looking for fish and things.”
“About that map,” says Mr. Robbins, “the chart you gave us?”
“Oh, that. Why, you’re welcome to it, I guess. It was an old one.”
Then Mr. House took a hand. “Listen, Robbins,” he said. “I’ve been watching this kid’s face, and I don’t believe he’s half the idiot he makes believe. We better take them aboard the _Porpoise_ and put them through a course of sprouts. There’s too much at stake here to miss any chance.... Hey, you, start the engine and let’s be going. Anyhow I’ve done my share of digging for tonight.”
The sailorman started the engine, and we moved out into the black bay. Away off to the left we could see the lights of Nantucket town, and we headed for them. It was a pretty howdy-do. Here we were in a fine mess, being taken aboard the _Porpoise_, and goodness only knew what was going to happen there. I wasn’t exactly scairt, but I was pretty uneasy, I can tell you. It was getting late and Mr. Browning would start to worry about us. Then I got to thinking, what if the fellow with the catboat went back and told how we had gone ashore? Take it all around, and things were mighty messy.