“I aren’t a-going to do anything till I have had my breakfast,” said the captain. “They’ve spoilt my morning snooze, but I aren’t going to let them spoil my morning meal, nor my lads’ neither.”
“But it’s urgent,” cried Rodd. “Suppose while you are thinking of eating and drinking the brig goes down?”
“Yah! She won’t go down. If she’s floated for weeks like that she’ll keep her nose above water while I swallow two bowls of coffee. I can’t work without something to keep me going. Let them pump for another half-hour, and then we’ll go.”
“We!” said Rodd sharply. “That means me too?”
“Oh, ah, if you like to come; only we shall have to keep a sharp look-out.”
“What, for fear it should sink under us?”
“Nay, I didn’t mean that, my lad. I mean, you see, we are dealing with a lunatic.”
“Captain!” cried Rodd indignantly.
“Ay, but we are, and there’s no knowing what sort of games fellows like that will be up to. I mean to give the mate strict orders to load all three guns, and if he sees the Count coming off again with his two boats full of men to take possession while he’s got us tight, to sink them without mercy. Ah, here’s the stooard, welcome, as you might say, as the flowers in spring. Come along, my lad, and let’s lay in stores.”
In spite of his words and deliberate way of proceeding, Captain Chubb had made his arrangements so that within half-an-hour of going down to breakfast he had the schooner’s boat lowered down with Joe Cross, five men, and the carpenter, who had already handed into the boat what he called his bag of tricks, the said tricks being composed of an adze, saws, chisels, augers, and nails, and very shortly afterwards the oars were dipping, and with Uncle Paul and Rodd in the stern-sheets they were gliding over the glittering sea and rapidly shortening the distance between them and the beautiful brig, which won a string of encomiums from the skipper as they drew near.