“By the way, talking of that, though I don’t mean to say it’s made like the old Britons’ coracles,” observed Mrs Gilmour silly, “when is that yacht of yours going to be ready, Captain?”
This unexpected inquiry made the old sailor blush a rosy red, for his face was turned westwards towards the setting sun, and all could see it plainly; albeit, he tried to conceal his perturbation by drawing out his brilliant bandana handkerchief and blowing his nose vigorously—an old trick of his.
“I—I—I’m having her done up,” he at length stammered out. “She wanted a lot of repair.”
“So I should think,” rejoined his persecutor, turning round to the others. “You must know, good people, that I’ve been hearing of nothing but this yacht for the last two years; and, would you believe it, I’ve never seen her yet!”
“I assure you—,” began the Captain; but, alas! his enemy, in addition to being a host in herself, had allies of whom he little dreamt; and so he was interrupted ere he could get at a second stammering “I assure you!”
“Why, you promised, Captain,” said Nell mischievously, “the very first time we saw you in the train, to take us out for a ‘sail in your yacht’; and I have been longing so much for it ever since. We thought that was what you meant when you said you were going to take us somewhere or do something that ‘to-morrow come never’ as you called it!”
“You wicked man, to deceive the poor children so!” cried
Mrs Gilmour, shaking her finger at him. “Oh, you bad man!”
But, before he could answer a word, Bob, who had been waiting anxiously for an opening, likewise assailed him.
“Ah! Don’t you remember, Captain, that day when you took Dick down to the Dockyard to get him entered as a sailor boy on board the Saint Vincent, and they wouldn’t take him because he was too thin, you said it didn’t matter, for you would employ him on board your yacht when the racing season began? Why, Dick and I have been looking out for a sail ever since. Don’t you remember?”