"The Phœnix," suggested Charley; then he added: "No that won't do, because it isn't a case of rising from ashes. The Red Bird wasn't burned."
"No," said Ned, "that would be very absurd. Suppose we call her Sea-Gull, because she came to us—in her timbers at least—from the sea."
"Better call her 'axe, hatchet, and hunting-knife,'" said Jack, "because we are making her with those tools. But if we must be poetical and suggestive, why not call her Aphrodite? She, like that fabled goddess, is sprung from the foam of the sea."
"Aphrodite it is," shouted Jack's companions, and Charley added:
"You're the most classical and poetic youth of the party, Jack, if you do pretend to sneer at us for our sentimental fancy for an appropriate name."
"Very well," replied Jack, "you're welcome to think so; but just now I want my dinner worse than any thing else, and that isn't a mere sentiment I assure you."
Dinner over, the preparations for defence were begun.
"What plan have you thought of, Jack?" Charley asked.
"Let me hear from you and Ned first," answered Jack.
"Well, I've thought of earthworks," said Charley; "they say they are the best fortifications."