“Oh, that will soon dry up. Well, what do you say the weather’s going to be?”
“The storm soon over, and a fine day to-morrow.”
“Done?” asked the skipper.
“Oh yes; but mind, that’s only a try.”
“Then it’s my turn now, youngster, so here goes. I say we shall have worse weather to-morrow than we have got to-day.”
“Oh, it can’t be!” cried Rodd.
“Well,” cried the skipper, chuckling, “we shall see who’s right.”
“Oh, but I don’t want for us to have to stop here in this French port.”
“More don’t I, my lad, so we think the same there. You going to stop on deck?”
“Yes, till dinner-time,” cried Rodd, and just then the haze of rain out seaward opened a little, revealing the brig with its tall spars and web of rigging.