The skipper gave the boy a nod and looked pleased; then nodding at Uncle Paul he said quietly—
“As we were ashore I told the men to get a few stores down to the boat, and that I’d meet them here. I dare say Joe Cross will be an hour, and by that time it will have lulled a bit, or else be a deal worse, and we’ll see.”
It took very little persuasion to make the skipper partake of some of the hotel fare, and naturally enough the conversation turned upon the incident that had lately taken place.
“Yes,” said Captain Chubb, “the skipper of that craft has got some stuff in him, and he knew how to navigate his boat. I could have done it if I’d been obliged, but I should have wanted a deal of shoving before I hoisted sail. Storm was bad enough, and no room to tack; but what I shouldn’t have liked was being fired at by two boats’ crews and three or four forts. I know what being fired at is, young squire,” continued the captain, giving Rodd a very peculiar look out of one eye, after closing the other, “and you may take my word for it it aren’t nice.”
“What, have you been out in a man-of-war?” asked Rodd eagerly.
“Nay, my lad, but several of our fellows have, and if you ask them, they can tell you what it’s like too.”
“Then you never were fired at?” said Rodd questioningly.
“Who says I warn’t? I tell you I was, though it wasn’t by forts. It was a Revenue cutter got trying to hit me.”
“What, smuggling?” cried Rodd.
“Nay! Smuggling, indeed! It was her skipper—Lieutenant somebody or another—I forget his name—say Smith. He made a blunder, same as I did in taking you and the doctor here for slavers.”