Taking him by the arm, I led the way to the beach, and pushed a boat into the water.
"You can pull," I said, seating myself comfortably in the stern-sheets.
"Who? Me? Not much," he replied; "there's no beastly pride about me. Here you, Tommy," turning to a Solomon boy who stood watching us, "just you jump in and put us aboard the Mother of Pearl yonder, and I won't say but what there mayn't be a plug of tobacco at the end of it."
Five minutes later we were aboard the schooner, and I was closely inspecting her, satisfying myself as to her good and bad qualities. When I had made up my mind, I turned to look for the owner. He was in the boat alongside, refreshing himself from a black bottle he had brought with him. As we pulled ashore, I said—
"Well, Jim, is it to be business?"
"Two fifty, not a red cent under."
"All right," I answered carelessly, "you're the best judge of that. She's not worth two hundred, but I'll give you that cash, otherwise no trade!"
He hung in the wind. Two hundred pounds, he reflected, would not only buy the new boat he wanted, but would enable him to extend his present drinking bout another week. An inspiration struck him—
"Two hundred cash," he said, "and I keep the pumps in her."
"There I'll meet you, though it's giving you the whole business. Is it a bargain?"