The other boys said nothing, but there arose involuntarily in the mind of each a feeling not exactly of envy, but at least a fervent wish that the resemblance which Bruce spoke of should exist on the water as well as on the land.
“I suppose it’s a yacht,” said Bart.
“Or a cruiser,” said Arthur.
“Nothin of the kind,” said Captain Corbet. “That thar craft ain’t anythin more than a Gloucester fishing schewner.”
“A fishing schooner?”
“Course; an why not? Why, them Gloucester skippers make themselves comfortable; they know how to do it, tew, an this chap is jest like the rest. He makes himself comfortable, keeps his schewner like a palace or a parlor, an don’t let even so much as the scale of a red herrin be seen about.”
The boys went ashore in the boat. Bruce then returned for Captain Corbet, who was touched by this small attention. As Bart and the rest waited on the beach, they noticed a small, neat, freshly-painted boat drawn up not far away, which needed not the name of Fawn on the stern to assure them that it could belong to nothing else than the smart schooner. While they were looking at it and admiring it, a man advanced towards them, who regarded them with a puzzled and curious expression.
He was a man of middle age and medium stature, with clean-shaven face, close-cut hair, and keen gray eye. He wore a dark-blue frock coat and wide-awake hat, and did not seem at all like a seaman; yet somehow the boys could not help feeling that this very neatly-dressed man must have something to do with the Fawn. He came up to them, and looked at them with a smile.
“Who in thunder are you, anyhow?” he exclaimed, at length. “I can’t make you out at all. You belong to that queer-looking tub out there, I see; but who you are and what you are after is beyond me.”
This style of address struck the boys as being rather uncivil; but the good-natured expression of the stranger’s face showed that no incivility was meant, and won their hearts at once.