“Bring blankets,” shouted the Spaniard. “Dew’s heavy. Good-night!” Then the boat was rowed away.
“You mean to go?” grunted the skipper.
“Yes; I don’t like to lose this opportunity, and our friends here would like us to go.”
“Well,” grunted the skipper, after a few moments’ thought, “he’s only one, and you’ll be how many?”
“I was taking eight of the men to row; that is to say, four rowers, and their relief; Cross for coxswain—nine; and our three selves.”
“Nay, I’m not going till that brig’s finished,” said the skipper angrily.
“I felt assured of that,” said the doctor. “The young Count is going to join us.”
“Ah, that’s better,” said the skipper. “But look here, gentlemen, I only look upon myself as a servant.”
“Not as mine,” said the Count gravely. “I shall always look upon you, Captain Chubb, as one of my most valued friends.”
“And I am sure Captain Chubb knows that I do,” said the doctor, “and that I have ever since he set me down as a scoundrelly slaver.”