“Oh, the cabin lockers be—” began Potter; then he pulled himself up short. “No,” he resumed, “I couldn’t think of you sleeping on the lockers; they’re that hard and uncomfortable you’d never be able to get a bit of real rest on ’em; to say nothing of Purchas or me coming in, off and on, during the night to look at the clock, or the barometer, or what not, and disturbing you. Besides, you’d be in our way there. No, that won’t do; that won’t do at all. I’ll be shot if I can see any way out of it but to make you up a shakedown in the longboat. She’s got nothing in her except her own gear—which we can clear out. The jolly-boat is turned over on top of her, making a capital roof to your house, so that you’ll sleep dry and comfortable. Why, she’ll make a first-rate cabin for ye, and you’ll have her all to yourself. There’s some boards on the top of the galley that we can lay fore and aft on the boat’s thwarts, and there’s plenty of sails in the sail locker to make ye a bed. Why,” he exclaimed, in admiration of his own ingenuity, “when all’s done you’ll have the most comfortable cabin in the ship! Dashed if I wouldn’t take it myself if it wasn’t for the look it would have with the men. But that argument don’t apply to you, mister.”
“Leslie,” cut in the latter once more, detecting, as he believed, an attempt on the part of the skipper to revert to his original objectionable style of address.
“Yes, Leslie—thanks. I think I’ve got the hang of your name now,” returned Potter. “As I was saying, that argument don’t apply to you, seein’ that the men know how short of accommodation we are aft. Now, how d’ye think the longboat arrangement will suit ye?”
“Oh, I have no doubt it will do well enough,” answered Leslie, although, for some reason that he could not quite explain to himself, he felt that he would rather have been berthed below. “As you say, I shall at least have the place to myself; I can turn in and turn out when I like; and I shall disturb nobody, nor will anybody disturb me. Yes; the arrangement will do quite well. And many thanks to you for making it.”
“Well, that’s settled, then,” agreed the skipper, in tones of considerable satisfaction. “Mr Purchas,” he continued, “let some of the hands turn-to at once to get those planks off the top of the galley and into the longboat, while others rouse a few of the oldest and softest of the sails out of the locker to make Mr—Mr Leslie a good, comfortable bed. And, with regard to payment,” he continued, turning rather shamefacedly to Leslie, “business is business; and if you don’t mind we’ll have the matter down on paper, in black and white. If you were poor folks, now, or you an ordinary sailor-man,” he explained, “I wouldn’t charge either of ye a penny piece. But it’s easy to see that you’re a nob—a navy man, a regular brass-bounder, if I’m not mistaken—and as such you can well afford it; while, as for the lady, anybody with half an eye can see that she’s a regular tip-topper, thoroughbred, and all that, so she can afford it too; while I’m a poor man, and am likely to be to the end of my days.”
“Quite so,” assented Leslie. “There is not the least need for explanation or apology, I assure you. Neither Miss Trevor nor I will willingly be indebted to you for the smallest thing; nor shall we be, upon the terms that I have suggested. I shall feel perfectly easy in my mind upon that score, knowing as well as you do that we shall be paying most handsomely for the best that you can possibly give us. And now, at last, I hope we very clearly understand each other.”
So saying, he turned away and, walking forward to where Purchas was superintending the removal of the planks referred to by the skipper, he asked the mate if he could oblige him with the loan of a pipe and the gift of a little tobacco.
“Of course I can,” answered Purchas, cordially. “At least, I can give ye a pipe of a sort—a clay; I buys about six shillin’s worth every time I starts upon a voyage. I get ’em at a shop in the Commercial Road, at the rate of fifteen for a shillin’! I find it pays a lot better than buyin’ four briars at one-and-six apiece; for, you see, when you’ve lost or smashed four briars, why, they’re done for; but when you’ve lost or smashed four clays—and I find that they last a’most as long as briars—why, I’ve still a good stock of pipes to fall back upon. If a clay is good enough for ye, ye’re welcome to one, or a dozen if ye like.”
“Oh, thanks,” laughed Leslie; “one will be sufficient until I have lost or broken it; then, maybe, I will trespass upon your generosity to the extent of begging another.”
“Right you are,” said the mate, cordially. “I’ll slip down below and fetch ye one, and a cake o’ baccy. I’ll not be gone a moment.”