“Brig, isn’t she, Joe?” said Vince.
“Ay, my lad; looks like a collier.”
“Schooner,” said Vince; and then, running the glass along the horizon, he took a long look at a small, smart-looking vessel in full sail, her canvas being bright in the evening glow.
“Why, she’s a cutter!” said Vince, rather excitedly: “Revenue cutter.”
“Nay, nay, my lad, only a yawrt.”
“I don’t think she is, Joe; I believe it’s a king’s ship.”
“Tchah! what would she be doing yonder?”
“I don’t know,” said Vince.
“Done with my glass?” growled the old man.
“Directly,” replied Vince; and he swept the sea again.