“I am the Captain.”
“Ah! receive my respects. And the name of the ship?”
“The Swift—steam yacht.”
“True, she has the appearance of a pleasure-boat. You intend, perhaps, to remain here? The Island of Madeira is very lovely.”
“Yes,” said the Captain; “but not at present.”
“You will be going on to Teneriffe?”
“Doubtless; but we require coal. You have a good supply?”
“Why not? But this small yacht would not require much for a cruise to the Canaries.”
“About eight hundred tons, sir, is all we require.”
“Eight hundred tons, sir? Very good. With that you could reach America, possibly Brazil. Is it not so?”