“Well, sir,” said Cammock, “we’ve broken the neck of that.”
“Yes, captain. And now?”
“I’ve had the old sail-room turned into a dining-room. It’s laid for breakfast now, sir. I’ve got to see the captain of that sloop and learn the news. That’s the first thing. Call my boat away, boatswain.”
The privateer sloop was the Happy Return of Jamaica, Captain Tucket, bound on a roving cruise with twenty men and a French commission. She carried six small guns, and her men wore arms, all of the very choicest make; but her hold was full of goods which Captain Tucket wished to sell. From Jamaica he had brought beads and coloured cloths, with which he was buying gold-dust, wax, and bird-peppers from the Indians. He had also several tons of Guiaquil chocolate and sweetmeats lately taken on the sea. He had come to Springer’s Key, he said, to fill water, before going east along the coast, as far as the ’Seniqua, looking for logwood. Things were quiet, he said, along the Main; there was nothing doing; only a few barcalongas taken. There had been talk at La Sound’s Key of combining and going to the Santa Maria gold-mines, but it had come to nothing. The French and English would not agree upon a leader. For his own part, he said, he believed there was logwood along some of these rivers east there, and he was going to look for it. He was a shrewd, but frank, elderly man.
“Look here,” he said, taking out a handkerchief. “There’s some of it. I dyed that of a slip I cut. None of your business where. There’s a pretty red for you. And I got another dodge I’m working at. Here. What d’you make of these?”
He flung upon the table a few little sticks, some of them crimson, some blue.
“What are these?” said Margaret, examining them. “Are they wax?”
“Yes, sir. Ordinary beeswax.”
“You’ve got them a very beautiful clear colour. Look, Edward. Did you learn the secret yourself?”
“You wouldn’t learn to do them at one of your English colleges, sir.”