nday morning, and it was not until Monday
noon that we got away.

We fitted out as though for a Cape Shore seining trip, and that's what
we were to do in case we missed the Flamingo or could not persuade her
skipper or Maurice himself that he ought to leave her and come back on
the Johnnie Duncan. It was Clancy who had the matter in charge.
Indeed, it was only Clancy who knew what it was really all about.

We had a good run-off before a stiff westerly that gradually hauled to
the north, and Tuesday night late saw us in Halifax Harbor. It was too
late to do anything that night, but Clancy went ashore to find out
what he could. Before sunrise he was back with word to break out the
anchor and put to sea. He had word of the Flamingo.

"That girl of Dave's--it seems she's moved to Canso with her folks,
and Dave's gone there. He's probably there before this--maybe left
again. She's an old plug, the Flamingo, but she ought've made Canso
before this. He only stayed a few hours here and left Monday."

It was bang, bang, bang all the way to Canso, with Clancy swearing at
Withrow and the Flamingo and Dave Warner and the girl in the case--one
after the other and sometimes all together. "Blast Withrow and that
crazy fool Dave Warner, too. And why in the devil couldn't her folks
stayed in Gloucester--or in Halifax, at least. They ought've put a few
sticks of dynamite in her and blown her to pieces ages ago. She's
forty years old if she's a day--her old planks rotten. They won't keep
her afloat over-night if they're out in this. Why d'y's'pose people
leave a good lively little city like Halifax to go to a place like
Canso? Why?"

Andie Howe happened to be within hearing, and "Maybe the rent's
cheaper," suggested Andie.

"Maybe it is--and maybe if you don't talk sense I'll heave you over
the rail some fine day. Better give her a grain more fore-sheet. Man,
but it's a wicked night."

We made Canso after the worst day and night we had had in the Johnnie
Duncan since she was launched. Outside Canso Harbor it looked bad. We
didn't think the skipper would try to enter the harbor that black
night, but he did. "Got to go in and get news," said Clancy, and in we
went. It was as black as could be--squalls sweeping down--and Canso is
not the easiest harbor in the world to make at night.

I went ashore with Clancy to hear what the young woman might have to
say. We found her in a place run by her father, a sort of lodging
house and "pub,