She had new sails, a new jibboom, and several new spars; and before she got clear and away out of the English Channel the crew of many a homeward-bound ship manned their riggings and gave her a hearty cheer.
Halcott had left the whole rig-out of the Sea Flower to Mr Tandy, and had not come near her for six long weeks.
He was better employed, perhaps, and more happy on shore. But pleased enough he was on his return.
“Why, Tandy, my dear fellow, this isn’t a ship any more; it’s a yacht?”
“A pot of paint and a bucket of tar go a long way,” Tandy replied smiling.
“Ah! there’s a good deal more than tar here; but how you’ve managed to get her decks and spars so white and beautiful, bother me if I can tell. And her ebony is ebony no longer, it is polished jet, while her brass work is gold.”
Down below the two had now gone together.
Tandy could not have made the cabin a bit bigger if he had tried, but he had removed every morsel of her lumbering old lockers and tables, and refurnished it with all he could think of that was graceful and beautiful.
Mirrors, too, were everywhere along the bulk-heads, and these made the saloon look larger. The only wonder is that, in a lit of absent-mindedness, some one did not walk right through a mirror.
Hanging tables, beautiful crystal, brackets, and artificial flowers gave a look that was both lightsome and gay.