Another day glided by, with steady visible progress in the brig’s repairs; and the Count seemed in better spirits, and said a few complimentary words to the skipper.
On board the schooner Captain Chubb appeared to be setting an example to the Spaniards, for those of his crew who were not helping the carpenters at the brig were kept busy holystoning, polishing, and coiling down ropes into accurate concentric rings, till the Maid of Salcombe was as smart as any yacht.
Meanwhile the Spaniards lined the bulwarks of their vessel, smoked and yawned, and watched the reptile shooting, and then stared in sleepy wonderment at the busy smartening up of the English schooner.
The evening came, and this time the Spanish captain had himself rowed across again, to find that it was the doctor who was leaning over the side with his nephew, and, cigarette in mouth still, the man said slowly—
“He tell you about the birds and the monkeys up the little river?”
“Yes,” said the doctor, “and I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Ah, yes,” said the Spaniard. “I am going to stop a fortnight yet before it’s time to go up with my cargo. I’ll make my men row you up to the mouth of that little river; and I could show you something you’d like, but you would have to take your guns—you and him too. But maybe the boy would be afraid.”
“That I shouldn’t!” cried Rodd hotly.
“Oh! Then you could come,” said the Spaniard. “But you’d be in the way if you were afraid. Think about it. Good-night.”
The doctor was ready to enter into conversation, and question him; but the boat went off back at once, leaving Uncle Paul mentally troubled, for the idea of an excursion into the depths of the forest wilds was exciting in the extreme.