“No; that’s the worst of it. The owners insure themselves, because the tub won’t pass at Lloyd’s. If we sink it’s a big loss. So we mustn’t sink.”
“Iron won’t float, nevvy.”
“I’m going to hug the coast, mostly. If trouble comes I’ll beach her. You may be in for a long cruise, Uncle.”
He nodded quite pleasantly.
“That’s all right. I take it we’ll manage to get home by Spring, an’ that’s time enough fer us both. But I can see she ain’t a race-hoss, Sam, my boy.”
Indeed, the ship was not behaving at all to suit me. With a favorable breeze and an easy sea the miserable old hulk was sailing more like a water-logged raft than a modern merchantman.
Her sails and cordage were new and beautiful, and her paint spick and span; but I noticed my sailors wagging their heads with disappointment as the Gladys H. labored through the water.
Uncle Naboth chuckled to himself and glanced at me as if he thought it all a good joke, and I the only victim. But I pretended to pay no attention to him. Being, as he expressed it, a “loafin’ land-lubber,” I installed him in the last of the roomy cabins aft, all of which opened into the officers’ mess-room. Ned Britton had the cabin opposite mine, and Mr. Perkins the one opposite to that occupied by Duncan Moit. For my part, I was pleased enough to have such good company on a voyage that promised to be unusually tedious.
Moit had kept well out of our way until everything was snug and ship-shape, and then he came on deck and stood where he could keep a tender eye on his precious machine. I introduced him to Uncle Naboth and the two “passengers” shook hands cordially and were soon conversing together in a friendly manner.
I had decided to take my sailors into my confidence in the very beginning, so I called all hands together and made them a brief speech.