“Oh yes, sir,” said the man; “no doubt about it. They on’y want catching.”
“No, no,” cried Murray. “That’s just what they don’t want.”
“Right you are, sir; but you know what I mean.”
“I suppose so,” said Murray; “but do you chaps, when you are chewing it all over along with your quids, believe that we shall come upon any of them?”
“Oh yes, sir; but do you see, they sail in those long, low, swift schooners that can come and go where they like, while we in the Seafowl seem to be thinking about it.”
“Poor sluggish sloop of war!” said Roberts.
“Nay, nay, sir,” said the man, “begging your pardon, she’s as smart a vessel as ever I sailed in, with as fine a captain and officers, ’specially the young gentlemen.”
“Now, none of your flattering gammon, Tom.”
“Begging your pardon, gentlemen,” said the man sturdily, “that it arn’t. I says what I says, and I sticks to it, and if we only get these here blackbird catchers on the hop we’ll let ’em see what the Seafowl can do.”
“If!” said Roberts bitterly.