“Very well, my boy; I will not if you do not wish it. All the same, however, there’s a defect in it that would be fatal.”
“What’s that?” said the boy rather dismally.
“The Chinese are very weak-minded, but they’re not idiots.”
“No—of course not; but tell me what you mean.”
“Pooh! Can’t you see for yourself? The enemy would see that the fire-boat was coming, and of course they’d either heave anchor or cast their cables and slip away, if they didn’t send your fire-boat to the bottom with a shot from one of their swivel-guns. Try again.”
“Oh, it’s of no use to try, uncle.”
“Yes, it is. You’ve got gumption enough to make a pot without a hole in the bottom. You’re last idea is manageable; the kite-flying was not. Now then, you’ve got a better idea than that up your sleeve or in that noddle of yours, I’m sure.—Hasn’t he, Blunt?”
“Yes—a far better one.”
“I thought so.—Now then, boy, let’s have it.”
Stan stood looking gloomy and silent.