“Why, the arbor, to be sure,” said the Captain. “Don’t you like the name?”
“Of course I do,” answered William. “It’s such a cunning name.”
It was but a few steps to the “crow’s nest,” and the happy party once seated, the Captain was ready in an instant to pick up the thread where he had broken it short off when they had parted in the golden evening of the day before, and then to spin on the yarn.
“And now, my lively trickster and genius of the quill,” said he to William, “how is it about writing down the story? What does your father say?”
“O,” answered William, “I’ve written down almost every word of what you said, and papa has examined it, and says he likes it. There it is”;—and he pulled a roll of paper from his pocket and handed it to the Captain.
The old man took it from William’s hand, looking all the while much gratified; and after pulling out a pair of curious-looking, old-fashioned spectacles from a curious-looking, old-fashioned red-morocco case, which was much the worse for wear, he fixed them on his nose very carefully, and then, after unfolding the sheets of paper, he glanced knowingly over them.
“That’s good,” said he; “that’s ship-shape, and as it ought to be. Why, lad, you’re a regular genius, and sure to turn out a second Scott, or Cooper, or some such writing chap.”
“I am glad you like it, Captain Hardy,” said William, pleased that he had pleased his friend.
“Like it!” exclaimed the Captain. “Like it!! that’s just what I do; and now, since I’m to be made famous in this way, I’ll be more careful with my speech. And no bad spelling either,” ran on the Captain, while he kept turning back the leaves, “as there would have been if you had put it down just as I spoke it. But never mind that now; take back the papers, lad, and keep them safe; we’ll go on now, if we can only find where the yarn was broken yesterday. Do any of you remember?”
“I do,” said William, laughing. “You had just got out into the great ocean, and were frightened half to death.”