“I entirely concur with you,” said McBain. “What say you, boys?”
“I think the mate of the Trefoil is right,” said Ralph and Allan.
“’Tis not in mortals to command success,” said Rory; “but I think we’ve done rather more—we’ve deserved it.”
“Well said,” cried Allan.
“Yes, well said,” added McBain; “and, after all, who shall say that we may not return to these seas again. None of us are very old, and wonders never cease. Why, I do declare that bold Magnus here looks fully ten years younger with the good the cruise has done him?”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the weird old man, gathering up that chart that seemed so sacred a thing in his eyes; “and if ever you do, and old man Magnus is still alive, and has one leg left to hop upon, if it’s only a wooden one, he’ll trust to sail with you for the land he loves so well.”
“The land we all love so well,” said McBain; “the seas to which no one ever yet sailed without wishing to revisit them.”
There was a faint double knock at the saloon door as the captain ceased speaking, and Mitchell entered.
“Well, Mr Mitchell, come in, but not so doubtingly; we have done talking, and have come to the unanimous conclusion that the time has arrived for us to bear up.”
“Hurrah! to that,” said Mitchell, striking his left palm with his right fist in a very solid manner indeed.