The captain had just given orders to the mate to summon all hands on deck, and one of the first proceedings was to call the men to attention, the next to send them to the small-arms chest, from which each returned with cutlass buckled on and carrying a boarding pike, which were placed in a rack round the mainmast.
Rodd took his position just opposite as the men fell into line; Uncle Paul seated himself as far off as he could get, in a deck-chair, where he sat and frowned; and then Captain Chubb diligently put his men through all the evolutions of cutlass drill over and over again, till he was satisfied, when he bade them fall out for a few minutes to rid themselves of their cutlasses.
In the interval Rodd went up to where his uncle was seated.
“I say, uncle,” he said, “how the men have improved!” Uncle Paul grunted, and just then Captain Chubb strolled up.
“Well, sir,” he said, “we shall soon have a crew now as smart as a man-of-war’s.”
“So I see,” grumbled Uncle Paul; “and when you have got them perfect what are you going to do with them?”
“Ah, that remains to be seen, sir. There’s nothing like being prepared.”
“Better let the men rest after all they have done to-day. What with their deck cleaning and the work they have done for me, they don’t want setting to play at soldiers.”
“Playing at soldiers, eh, sir? I call it playing at sailors. No use to lock the stable-door after the steed’s stolen. My lads may never be called upon to fight, but if by bad luck we are, I should like them to be able to use their fighting tools like men.”
“Oh, it isn’t likely,” said Uncle Paul, “in a peaceful voyage like ours.”