“Why, you thought so yourself, Mr Rimmer,” cried Panton, merrily.
“Yes, I suppose I have been a bit down-hearted about getting her to sea, and it has made me slow over the finishing. But after the way you gentlemen have buckled to, it goes as easy as can be.”
“How long do you reckon we shall be?” asked Drew.
“Getting her down, sir? Well, I used to say to myself, if we can manage it in two months I shall be satisfied, but I’m beginning to think about one now.”
“Why, we shall do it in a week,” cried Oliver.
“A week?” cried the others.
“Well, why not? If we go on as steadily this afternoon and evening as we have this morning, we shall manage to get her along a quarter of a mile, and that’s an eighth part of the distance.”
“We shall see,” said the mate. “We have had all plain sailing so far.”
“Yes, but the men get every time more accustomed to the work,” said Drew, “and we ought to do more some days.”
“Of course,” said Panton. “My anxiety is about the blacks.”