But when, upon my Port is seen
A steamer's Starboard light of green,
For me there's naught to do, but see
That Green to Port keeps clear of me.
"Come, now," he growled, "wot's your game? D'ye mean to say you've bin humbuggin' me all this time?"
His little eyes glared redly from underneath his shaggy eyebrows. He was ready to sulk again, without hope of reconciliation, so Royson perforce explained.
"I have no objection to telling you, captain, how I came to acquire a good deal of unusual information about the sea, but I want to stipulate, once and for all, that I shall not be further questioned as to my past life."
"Go ahead! That's fair."
"Well, I have spent many a day, since I was a boy of ten until I was nearly twenty, sailing a schooner-rigged yacht on Windermere. My companion and tutor was a retired commander of the Royal Navy, and he amused himself by teaching me navigation. I learnt it better than any of the orthodox sciences I had to study at school. You see, that was my hobby, while a wholesome respect for my skipper led me to work hard. I have not forgotten what I was taught, though the only stretch of water I have seen during the last few years is the Thames from its bridges, and I honestly believe that if you will put up with my want of experience of the sea for a week or so, I shall be quite capable of doing any work you may entrust to me."
"By gad!" said Stump admiringly, "you're a wonder. Come on deck. I'll give you a tip or two as we go into Calais."
During the journey across France it was natural that Royson should take the lead. He spoke the language fluently, whereas Stump's vocabulary was limited to a few forcible expressions he had picked up from brother mariners. There was a break-down on the line near Dijon, which delayed them eight hours, and Stump might have had apoplexy were not Royson at hand to translate the curt explanations of railway officials. But the two became good friends, which was an excellent thing for Dick, and the latter soon discovered, to his great surprise, that Stump had never set eyes on the Aphrodite.
"No," he said, when some chance remark from Royson had elicited this curious fact, "she's a stranger to me. Me an' Tagg—Tagg is my first mate, you see—had just left the Chirria when she was sold to the Germans out of the East Indian trade, an' we was lookin' about for wot might turn up when the man who chartered the Aphrodite put us on to this job. Tagg has gone ahead with most of the crew, but I had to stop in London a few days—to see after things a bit."
Stump had really remained behind in order to buy a complete set of charts, but he checked his confidences at that point, nor did Royson endeavor to probe further into the recent history of the yacht.