"I'm coming to that," said Uncle Seth. "There'll be room here for the three of you if you want to stay, and there'll be work in abundance in the store; but—ah, lads, here's the chance for you!—there'll be room for you with me, if you wish to come. I have bought a ship—"
"A brig," Cornelius Gleazen put in.
"A brig," said Uncle Seth, accepting the correction. "The Adventure, a very tidy little craft, and well named."
Cornelius Gleazen gave his cigar a harder flick and in a reminiscent voice again forced his way into the conversation. "Ninety-seven foot on deck, twenty-four foot beam, sixteen foot deep, and a good two hundred and fifty ton, built of white oak and copper fastened. Baltimore bow and beautiful rake. Trim as a gull and fast as a duck. Tidy's the word, Seth, tidy."
Gleazen's fingers were twitching and his eyes were strangely alight.
"Yes, yes," said Uncle Seth, sharply.
"But that's not all," Gleazen insisted.
"Well, what of it?" Uncle Seth demanded. "Are you going to tell 'em everything?"
At this Gleazen paused and looked hard at his cigar. His fingers, I could see, were twitching more than ever.