“Yes, my lad; we have got this strong tide in our favour. I am reckoning that if we drop anchor soon we shall be able to get as far as we want next tide.”
“But how far do you mean to go?” asked Morny anxiously.
“Oh, a good way up yet,” replied the skipper.
“But why not keep on now?” asked Rodd.
“Because I want to pick a good berth before the dark comes down and catches and leaves us nohow. Got any more questions to ask?”
“Hundreds,” cried Rodd merrily.
“Humph! Then I think I ought to have my pay raised. I joined the Maid of Salcombe to sail her, not to give you lessons in jography, etymology, syntax, and prosody, as it used to say in my lesson book when I was a little ’un.”
“Ah, well, I won’t bother you any more to-day, captain,” said Rodd; “only one always wants to know what things are when they are quite fresh.”
Captain Chubb did not answer for the moment, for he had to shout another order to the steersman and make two or three signals with his hand to those on board the brig, which was following in the schooner’s track, keeping as close as it could to be safe.
At the end of five minutes, though, he had returned to his old position, and grunted out with a look as if he wanted to be questioned more—