“Insolent young barbarian!” he cried. “Do you call the ships of Tyre little? None greater sail the seas. That ship has been on a three years’ voyage. She is known in all the great trading ports from here to the Tin Islands. She comes back rich and glorious. Her very anchor is of silver.”
“I’m sure we beg your pardon,” said Anthea hastily. “In our country we say ‘little’ for a pet name. Your wife might call you her dear little husband, you know.”
“I should like to catch her at it,” growled the Captain, but he stopped scowling.
“It’s a rich trade,” he went on. “For cloth once dipped, second-best glass, and the rough images our young artists carve for practice, the barbarian King in Tessos lets us work the silver mines. We get so much silver there that we leave them our iron anchors and come back with silver ones.”
“How splendid!” said Robert. “Do go on. What’s cloth once dipped?”
“You must be barbarians from the outer darkness,” said the Captain scornfully. “All wealthy nations know that our finest stuffs are twice dyed—dibaptha. They’re only for the robes of kings and priests and princes.”
“What do the rich merchants wear,” asked Jane, with interest, “in the pleasure-houses?”
“They wear the dibaptha. Our merchants are princes,” scowled the skipper.
“Oh, don’t be cross, we do so like hearing about things. We want to know all about the dyeing,” said Anthea cordially.
“Oh, you do, do you?” growled the man. “So that’s what you’re here for? Well, you won’t get the secrets of the dye trade out of me.”