"What is your beastly ship's name?"
"Ah yes. Goot!" Here the skipper proceeded to pour the liquor back cautiously into the bottle; but spilling a drop or two to begin with, he evidently thought it would be a saving to swallow it. "Huh!" he cried, with water in his eyes.
"Your ship's name, sir!" roared Sturdy, stamping his foot, and laying a hand upon his sword. "Name and cargo?"
"Yes, yes. Goot. Ha! ha! My sheep's name is Skrrovotchstriarrky. Loaded I am with cloves."
"Cloves!—What do you think the fellow means, doctor?"
"Clothes, I believe," said Reikie.
"Clothes? Certainly, it must be that."
Sturdy felt pleased now. Part of the cargo was had on deck. The doctor was right. Truly a glorious cargo—stockings, gloves, blankets, jackets, boots! All had been made, apparently, to fit Greenland bears Never mind, they were warm.
So a prize crew was put on board under command of Sub-Lieutenant Fitzgerald, alias Lord Tomfoozle. Then all sail was set, and away south went the Gurnet with her prize.
But a stranger had come on board from the barque—namely, a Russian gentleman and his daughter, a rather pretty young lady, to whom, with her maid, Captain Gillespie at once gave up his cabin.