“No, no, no, no, no, sir,” said the captain, in a remonstrant tone; “as clean and smart, p’raps; but there isn’t the show. Look here, though,” he continued, nodding to one of the brothers and taking the other by the edge of his coat, “things happen rum sometimes, don’t they?”
“Certainly,” said Sir Humphrey, smiling at the skipper’s mysterious way of taking them into his confidence. “With regard to what? Has anything happened rum, as you call it?”
“To be sure it has,” said the skipper, screwing up his eyes. “You want a boat suitable for going up rivers, don’t you?”
“Certainly,” said Sir Humphrey, “and I seem to have found her.”
“You have, sir, and no mistake, accidentally, spontaneous-like, as you might say. Do you know, I planned the rigging-out of that boat so that she might go up big rivers in South America?”
“Indeed?” said Sir Humphrey, looking at the speaker curiously.
“Ah, you think I’m blowing, sir, as the Yankees call it—bragging.”
“I have no right to doubt your word, captain,” said Sir Humphrey stiffly.
“Thankye, sir,” said the captain; “but you do,” he added sharply, turning upon Brace.
“That I don’t,” said the latter quietly. “I don’t know much about you, captain, but you look too much of the straightforward Englishman to boast.”