“Waal, we are bound now to an island which, as it’s not shown on the chart, I’ve christened ‘Albatross Island,’ arter the brig. We’re goin’ there to refit,” was the reply.
“Then I presume you have established a sort of depôt there?” interrogated Captain Staunton.
“That’s just it; you’ve hit it exactly, stranger,” answered the Yankee.
“And how long will it take you to refit?” was the next question.
“Maybe a week; maybe a month. It just depends upon whether the hands are in a working humour or no.”
Captain Staunton raised his eyebrows somewhat at this singular answer. After a moment or two of silence he said—
“I presume you would find no difficulty in running us across to—say—Valparaiso, if you were well paid for the service?”
“Cash down?”
Captain Staunton was about to say “Yes,” having saved from the burning ship a bag of specie sufficient in amount to convey the entire party home in perfect comfort; but an idea struck him that it would perhaps be better to promise payment after rather than before the performance of the service, so he said—
“Well, no, I could not promise that. But I would draw on my owners for the amount of our passage-money, and pay you immediately on our arrival at Valparaiso.”