“Very, for them,” said the skipper grimly. “What would my boys be about?”
“Why, they’d be taken prisoners.”
“I should just like to see her try,” said the skipper. “If the boats’ crews of that brig were to get a lodgment aboard my craft, how long do you think it would take our lads to clear them off?”
“Oh, I am sure our crew would be very brave, but I should say that brig’s got twice as many men as we have.”
“What of that?” said the skipper contemptuously.
“Well, then,” said Rodd argumentatively, “she’s got her guns, and might sink us.”
“And we’ve got our guns, and might sink her,” growled the skipper. “Look here, my lad; why did I give my lads gun drill and cutlass and pike drill, while you and the doctor were taking in your tackle and bags of tricks?”
“Why, to defend the schooner against any savages who might attack us when we are off the West Coast or among the islands.”
“Right, my lad. Well, as Pat would say, by the same token couldn’t they just as well fight a pack of Frenchies as a tribe of niggers? Bah! You’re all wrong. It’s quite like enough that yon brig may have been fitted out for a privateer, though I rather think she wouldn’t be fast enough. But that game’s all over, and we are all going to be at peace now we have put Bony away like a wild beast in a cage and he can’t do anybody any hurt. There, you needn’t fidget yourself about that. All the same, I don’t quite understand why a craft that isn’t a man-of-war, but carries a long gun amidships and has officers in uniform aboard, should be taking refuge in this port. I dunno. She looks too smart and clean, but it might mean that she’s going to the West Coast, blackbirding.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Rodd. “Why, that’s what you thought about us, Captain Chubb.”