The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 13

"Why, you won't go all that way in a lugger, uncle?"

"Bah! Rubbish!" cried Uncle Paul shortly. "Here, give me hold of that gla.s.s."

He took the telescope, drew out the slide to a mark upon the tube which indicated the focus which suited his eye, and then as he began slowly sweeping the portions of the harbour which were within reach he went on talking.

"Isn't there anything between a lugger and a ship, sir? You know well enough if you talk to a sailor about a ship he'd suppose you meant a full-rigged three-masted vessel."

"Yes, of course, uncle. And a barque is a three-master with a mizzen fore-and-aft rigged."

"That's better, my lad. But what do you mean by fore-and-aft rigged?"

"Well, like a schooner, uncle."

"Good boy! Go up one, as you used to say at school. Well, what do you think of a large schooner for a good handy vessel that can be well managed by a moderate crew?"

"Oh, I should think it would be splendid, uncle; and she'd sail very fast."

"That depends on her build and the way she is sailed, my boy. But that's what I am thinking of having, Pickle."

"But with a good crew, uncle."

"Yes; I want the best schooner and the best crew that are to be had, my boy."

"But it will cost a lot of money, uncle."

"Yes, Pickle; but I am proud to say that the Government has not been mean in that respect, and if what they have granted me is not enough, I shall put as many hundreds as are required out of my own pocket to make up the deficiency, so that in all probability I shan't have a penny to leave you, Pickle, when I die."

"When you die!" cried the boy scornfully. "Who wants you to die? And who wants you to leave me any money? I say, Uncle Paul, who's talking nonsense now?"

"How dare you, sir!"

"Then you shouldn't say such things, uncle. Talking about dying! There will be plenty of time to talk about that in a hundred years."

"Well, that's a very generous allowance, Pickle, and if we get such a schooner as I want, with a clever crew, and you work hard with me, why, we ought to make a good many discoveries by that time. A hundred years hence," continued Uncle Paul thoughtfully, as he apparently brought his telescope to bear upon a sloop of war whose white sails began to be tinged with orange as the sun sank low; but all the time he was peering out through the corners of his eyes to note the effect of his words upon his nephew. "But let me see--a hundred years' time. Why, how much older will you be then, Pickle?"

"Why, just the same as you would, uncle; a hundred years older than I am now. Pooh! You are making fun of me. But I say, uncle, be serious.

How are you going to manage to get your schooner?"

"Set to work, and lose no time, my boy. But I am rather puzzled at the present moment, and I am afraid--"

Uncle Paul lowered the gla.s.s as he spoke, and turned his eyes thoughtfully upon his nephew, who had uttered a low peculiar sound.

"Of being sea-sick, uncle?" Uncle Paul smiled.

"I suppose that's what you call retaliation, young gentleman. Well, no, sir, I'm not afraid of that--at least, not much. I remember the first time I crossed the Channel that I was very ill, and every time I have been at sea since I have always felt that it would be unwise to boast; but I think both you and I can make our voyage without being troubled in that way. But we won't boast, Pickle, for, as they say, we will not holloa till we are out of the wood. Let me see; isn't there an old proverb something about a man not boasting till he taketh off his armour?"

"I think so, uncle, but I cannot recollect the words."

"Well, I don't want any armour, my boy, but I do want a well-found schooner--a new one if I can get it; if not, one that will stand a thorough examination; and I don't know that such a boat's to be got just now it's wanted. There are plenty of ramshackle old things lying about here, but I want everything spick-and-span ready for the extra fitting out I shall give her. Copper-fastened, quick-sailing, roomy, and with good cabin accommodation so that we can have a big workshop for the men who help us, and a sort of study and museum for ourselves. Now, Pickle, where shall we have to go to find such a craft? Portsmouth--London?

What about Southampton?"

"Southampton. Yes. Some fine yacht, uncle."

"No, boy. She'd be all mast and sails. Do well for a coaster, but I want an ocean-going craft, one that will bear some knocking about. A cargo boat whose hold one could part.i.tion off for stores. Now then?"

There was silence for about a minute, and then Uncle Paul spoke again.

"There, out with it, boy, at once. Don't waste time. Say you don't know."

"But I think I do know, uncle," cried the boy.

"Eh? What? Where? Tchah! Not you!"

"But what about one of those boats the French prisoners escaped in?"

cried Rodd eagerly.

"Eh? What? One of those trim orange boats that go on the Mediterranean Trade, that they build at Salcombe?"

"Yes, uncle. Don't you remember that one we were looking at a few months ago, that came in here after the storm, to get a new jibboom?"

"Why, of course I do, Pickle!" cried Uncle Paul eagerly. "Think of that, now! Why, I might have been fumbling about with a hammer for months and not found what I wanted, and here are you, you impudent young rascal, proving that you are not quite so stupid as I thought, for you hit the right nail on the head at once."

CHAPTER NINE.

CAPTAIN CHUBB.

The next day was spent in Plymouth, and letting the idea of a visit to Salcombe rest in abeyance for a time, Uncle Paul called on different shipping agents, made inquiries in the docks, looked over two or three small vessels that he was a.s.sured would be exactly the thing he wanted, and which could be handed over to him at once if decided on; and at last, utterly wearied out, he returned home with Rodd very much impressed by the feeling that it was much easier to say what he required, than to get his wants supplied.

He was a little better after they had had a good hearty tea meal, but there was a great deal of truth in Rodd's mental remark that Uncle Paul was as cross as two sticks. Rodd quite started, feeling as he did that he must have spoken aloud, and Uncle Paul have heard his words, for the doctor turned upon him sharply, stared him full in the face, and exclaimed--

"Now, look here, sir; didn't I explain to each of those agents exactly the sort of vessel I wanted before they gave me their orders to go and view the craft where they lay in dock or on the mud?"

"Yes, uncle, you told them exactly," replied Rodd.

"Do I look like an idiot, Rodd?"

"No, uncle. What a question!"

"Then how dare the scoundrels deal with me as if I didn't know what I was about! I said a schooner as plain as I could speak."

"You did, uncle."

"And one sent me to see that ramshackle old brig that looked as if it might have been a tender out of the Armada, and the two others sent me to see a barque that would want twice as big a crew as I should take, and the other to look over that abominable old billy-boy that you couldn't tell bow from stern, which so sure as she b.u.mps upon a sandbank would melt away like b.u.t.ter. Thinking of nothing else but making a bit of commission, ready to sell one anything; but I am not going to be tricked like that.--Yes, what do you want? What is it?"

For the neat handmaid who attended on the doctor's wants had tapped at the door, and receiving no answer from her master, whose voice she could hear declaiming loudly, opened the door and walked in, with--