The place at which it was necessary to apply for further particulars was in Fenchurch Street; and upon making my way thither, I discovered that it was the office of the owners. I stated my business to one of the clerks, and was immediately turned over to a keen-looking elderly man who at once invited me into his private sanctum, and, as a preliminary, showed me a half-model of the vessel. It was a very plainly got up affair, intended merely to exhibit the general shape and mould of the hull; but I had no sooner taken it into my hands and cast a critical glance or two at the lines of the entrance and run, than I decided conclusively that I had never in my life set eyes upon a more handsome craft. The model showed her to be shallow and very beamy of hull; but her lines were as fine as those of a yacht, and indeed the entire shape of the hull was yacht-like in the extreme. Having expressed, in becomingly moderate terms, my satisfaction, so far, I was next given the specification to look through; and a careful perusal of this document convinced me that, if the craft had been built up to it, she was undoubtedly as staunch a ship as wood and metal could make her.
The next question was that of price; and though, when it was named, a disinterested person might perhaps have been disposed to consider the expression “breaking-up price” as somewhat poetic and imaginative, the figure was still a very decidedly moderate one, if the craft only proved to be in somewhat as good condition as she was represented to be. This also meeting with my carefully qualified approval, it was suggested that, as the craft herself was lying in the East India Docks, I should run down and look at her. My new friend and I accordingly took train, and in due time arrived alongside.
It was hard work to restrain the expressions of admiration and delight that sprang to my lips when my eyes first rested upon her, for she was a little beauty indeed. Dirty as she was, and disordered and lumbered-up as were her decks, it was impossible for the professional eye to overlook her many excellencies; and before I had even stepped on board her I had already mentally determined that if her hull were only sound, the little barkie should be mine, and that in her I would seek for Dick Saint Leger’s long-lost treasure. For she not only came up to but far surpassed in appearance the ideal craft upon which I had set my mind. She was as handsome as a picture; with immensely taunt and lofty spars; and though her hold was absolutely empty, her royal yards were across, and the strong breeze that happened to be blowing at the time made scarcely any perceptible impression upon her. She carried a small topgallant forecastle forward, just large enough to comfortably house two pig-pens, which in this position were not likely to prove an annoyance to people aft; and the accommodation below for the crew was both roomy and comfortable. Abaft the foremast, and between it and the main hatch, stood a deck-house, the fore part of which constituted the berthage for the steerage passengers, while the after-part consisted of a commodious galley fitted with a large and very complete cooking-range. The after-part of the deck was raised some two and a half feet, forming a fine roomy half-poop, pierced only by the saloon companion, the saloon skylight, and two small skylights immediately abaft it, which lighted a pair of family cabins situated abaft the main saloon. The wheel was a handsomely carved mahogany affair, elaborately adorned with brasswork; the binnacle also was of brass, with a bronze standard representing three dolphins twisted round each other; and the belaying-pins also were of brass, fore and aft. These, and a few other details that caught my eye, seemed to indicate that no expense had been spared in the fitting-out of the ship.
While we were walking round the decks, making a leisurely inspection of such matters as would repay examination in this part of the ship, a very respectable, seaman-like fellow came on board, and was first accosted by my companion and then introduced to me as “Captain Thomson, our late skipper of the Esmeralda; now looking after the ship until she finds a purchaser. Mr Saint Leger,” my companion continued explanatorily, “has come on board to inspect the ship, with some idea of buying, if he finds her satisfactory.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” answered Thomson, “for she is altogether too good to be laid up idle. As to her being satisfactory—why, that of course depends upon what Mr Saint Leger wants; the ship may be either too large or too small for him; but I’ll defy any man to find a fault in her. She’s a beauty, sir,” he continued, turning to me, “and she’s every bit as good as she looks.”
My unknown friend here pulled out his watch and looked at it anxiously.
“I wonder,” he said, “whether you will consider me very rude if I propose to run away, and leave Captain Thomson to do the honours of the ship in my stead? I should like to remain with you; but the fact is that I have rather an important meeting to attend in the City; and I see that I have no time to lose if I am to be punctual. And Thomson really knows a great deal more about the ship than I do; consequently he will be able to give you more reliable information than I can.”
I of course begged that he would not put himself to the slightest inconvenience on my account, and expressed myself as being perfectly satisfied at being left in the hands of the skipper of the ship; whereupon he turned to Thomson and said—
“Let Mr Saint Leger see everything without reserve, Thomson; and tell him anything he wishes to know, if you please. We have no desire whatever to sell the ship by means of misrepresentation of any sort. Good-bye,” he continued, turning to me, and offering his hand; “I hope we shall see you again, and be able to do business with you.”
He raised his hat, stepped briskly along the gang-plank, and was soon lost sight of in the crowd.