to worry.

Payne don't, though. He swallows one sandwich, and then goes back to
inspect the boat. He announces that the tide is comin' in and she
ought to float soon; also that when she does he wants to start back.

"Now, Payne!" protests Mabel. "Just when I'm comfortable!"

"And there isn't any hurry, is there?" asks Vee.

I wa'n't so stuck on buttin' around in the fog myself; so when he asks
me to go down and see if the launch is afloat yet, and I finds that she
can be pushed off easy, I don't hurry about tellin' him so. Instead I
climbs aboard and develops an idea. You see, when I was out with Eb
Westcott in his lobster boat the day before I'd noticed him stop the
engine just by jerkin' a little wire off the spark plug. Here was a
whole bunch of wires, though. Wouldn't do to unhitch 'em all. But
along the inside of the boat is a little box affair that they all lead
into, with one big wire leadin' out. Looked kind of businesslike, that
one did. I unhitches it gentle and drapes it over a nearby screwhead.
Then I strolls back and reports that she's afloat.

"Good!" says Payne. "I'll just start the engine and be tuning her up
while the girls finish luncheon."

Well, maybe you can guess. I could hear him windin' away at the
crankin' wheel, windin' and windin', and then stoppin' to cuss a little
under his breath.

"What's the matter?" sings out Mabel.