Captain Chubb looked hard at the speaker, then at Rodd, with the effect of making the boy feel as if he must laugh, for there was something so thoroughly comical in the stolid face, that nothing but the dread of hurting the visitor’s feelings kept him from bursting into a roar, especially as, after fixing him with his eyes, the skipper seemed to be taking careful observations, looking up at the ceiling as if in search of clouds, at the carpet for sunken rocks, and then, so to speak, sweeping the offing by slowly gazing at the four walls in turn.
“Schooner,” he said at last gruffly.
“Yes,” said Uncle Paul; “a smart, fast-sailing schooner.”
“Well-found,” grunted the skipper.
“Of course, and with a good crew.”
“And a good crew,” growled the skipper.
“Yes. Can you show me where I can get such an one?”
“No. Look-out.”
He picked up and put on his cap again, took it off, and looked in the lining, and then gave his right leg a smart slap.
“Dunno as I don’t,” he roared. “What do you say to a horange boat?”