“I sha’n’t feel really happy till we hear they are at Bahia,” responded Whistler, shaking his head.
“Right-o! But the Redbird is a fine ship, and just as safe as a house.”
“But she’s a sailing ship—and slow.”
“Not so slow, if anybody should ask you,” returned Belding smiling.
“A four-master?”
“And square rigged. A real ship. No schooner-rig, or half-and-half. Captain Jim Lowder thinks she is the finest thing afloat. Of course, she is thirty years old; but she was built to last. Regular passenger sailing ship, with a round-the-world record that would make the British tea ships sit up and take notice. Her cabin finished in mahogany, staterooms in white enamel—simply fine!”
“I didn’t know they had such sailing ships,” said Whistler in wonder.
“Oh, there are a few left. The Huns haven’t sunk them all. Nor have the steam craft put such as the Redbird out of commission. You couldn’t get Captain Jim Lowder to take out a steam vessel. He abominates the ‘iron pots,’ as he calls the steam freighters.
“But sailing ships like the Redbird are kept out of the European trade if possible. Even Captain Lowder must admit that a sailing ship is not in the game of fighting subs.”
“That is the way I feel. Wish your folks and mine were going south on a steamer, George.”