“Well, dearie, let us hear your scheme. Quite a boy’s one, no doubt.”
Barclay smiled, and coloured a little.
“Anyhow,” he said boldly, “boy or not boy, here it goes.”
“The derelict, you know, that we first boarded is now much nearer to us, isn’t it?”
“Granted, dearie.”
“Well, those spars or lower masts of hers are as strong and good as ever.”
“True.”
“Then my plan is, to unship them and haul them on board here. They will do excellently well for main and mizen jury-masts, with fore and aft sails on them——”
Antonio would not let him say another word.
“Bravo!” he cried; “shake hands, my boy. You’re cleverer far than your stupid old captain, who never even thought of that. It shall be done.