“Twenty thousand at least, in my judgment,” said Uncle Naboth, eyeing the sacks.
“Well, sir,” announced Captain Gay, with decision, “I want to exchange this gold for a bill of sale of the ship.”
“What! The ‘Flipper?’”
“Yes, sir.”
Uncle Naboth winked at me gravely, as if to convey the suggestion that the man had gone crazy.
“Cap’n,” said he, after a pause, “I don’t mean to say as Sam and I won’t sell the ship, if you’d like to buy her; but the tub is old, and has seen her best days. She’s worth about six thousand dollars, all told, and not a penny more.”
“You must take all that gold or nothing, sir.”
“What do you mean?” asked my Uncle, in amazement.
Captain Gay sat down and looked thoughtfully out of the window.
“Perhaps I must take you into my confidence,” he remarked, in his slow, quiet tones, “although at first I had thought this action would be unnecessary. I’ve an idea I’d like to own a ship myself, and to trade in a small way between here and Portland.”