Then she slammed down the window, and refused to answer by a word my further pleadings. So finally I picked up the bundle and, feeling miserable and sick at heart, followed the path back to the little grove.
“It didn’t take you very long, but that’s all the better,” said my uncle, shutting his clasp-knife with a click and then standing up to brush the chips from his lap. “We two’ll go to the tavern, an’ talk over our future plans.”
Silently I walked by the side of Naboth Perkins until we came to the village. I knew everyone in the little town, and several of the fishermen and sailors met me with words of honest sympathy for my loss. Captain Steele had been the big man of Batteraft, beloved by all who knew him despite his reserved nature, and these simple villagers, rude and uneducated but kindly hearted, felt that in his death they had lost a good friend and a neighbor of whom they had always been proud. Not one of them would have refused assistance to Captain Steele’s only son; but they were all very poor, and it was lucky for me that Uncle Naboth had arrived so opportunely to befriend me.
Having ordered a substantial dinner of the landlord of “The Rudder,” Mr. Perkins gravely invited me to his private room for a conference, and I climbed the rickety stairs in his wake.
The chamber was very luxurious in my eyes, with its rag carpet and high-posted bed, its wash-stand and rocking-chair. I could not easily withhold my deference to the man who was able to hire it, and removing my cap I sat upon the edge of the bed while Uncle Naboth took possession of the rocking-chair and lighted a big briar pipe.
Having settled himself comfortably by putting his feet upon the sill of the open window, he remarked:
“Now, Sam, my lad, we’ll talk it all over.”
“Very well, sir,” I replied, much impressed.
“In the first place, I’m your father’s partner, as I said afore. Some years ago the Cap’n found he had more money’n he could use in his own business, an’ I’d saved up a bit myself, to match it. So we put both together an’ bought a schooner called the ‘Flipper’, w’ich I’m free to say is the best boat, fer its size an’ kind, that ever sailed the Pacific.”
“The Pacific!”