“No, no, man; I’m not offended. You thought I was a blackguardly ruffian who wanted to trap you into commanding a slaving craft for me, so that I could engage in that horrible trade of baying and selling my fellow-creatures; and you spoke out like a man. Here, shake hands, Captain Chubb. I honour you for your outspoken manly honesty.”
“Mean it?” grunted the skipper, hesitating.
“Mean it, yes,” said Uncle Paul, “and I hope this will be the beginning of our becoming great friends.”
“Humph!” grunted the captain, and extending his heavy hand he gave Uncle Paul a shake with no nonsense about it, for though Rodd’s uncle did not wince, he told the boy afterwards that it was the most solid shake he had ever had in his life.
Rodd fully endorsed it, as he knew directly after exactly what the skipper’s salute meant, for Captain Chubb, after releasing the uncle’s hand, extended what Rodd afterwards said was a paw, to the lad himself.
“Well, now then, Captain Chubb.”
“Very sorry, sir, I’m sure. Thought I saw broken water and a shoal. Hadn’t I better go?”
“No, no, captain,” cried Uncle Paul. “I am beginning to think you are just the man I want.”
“Ho!” said the skipper. “Mebbe. Let’s see.”
“Well,” continued Uncle Paul, “I want a vessel, a schooner. Do you know of a likely one that could be purchased and made ready at once for a trip down the West Coast?”