"I saw him up in town this morning, but he didn't say anything about her," answered Bobtail.
"I don't know's he knows anything about her; but he's pooty well acquainted with all the boats in these parts. Was there anything on board of her?"
"She's a pleasure craft. Come on board and look at her," replied Bobtail, evasively.
The skipper of the packet accepted the invitation, and looked over the Skylark. He was critical in his observations, and did not believe that any of these fancy craft amounted to much in heavy weather. She was "fixed up smart," and was "handsome's a picture;" but "he'd rather have his homely boat when it blowed than a thousand sech highflyers." They could "chalk a line up in to the wind in light weather, but they wan't nothin' in a sea."
Bobtail did not indorse these critical remarks, for he had tried the Skylark in a sea, and knew that she was equal to anything.
"I hope you'll find the owner, and I ca'late you'll make somethin' out of the job," said the skipper, as he returned to his vessel.
Bobtail did not particularly hope so, for even if he made something out of the job, he was afraid he should never be satisfied with the old tub in which he had sailed the day before, if he bought her, now that he had realized the glories of the Skylark.
"Shove her off, Monkey," said he, as he resumed his place at the helm.
Running along close to the wharves, he answered several hails of persons who wished to know about the boat. It would soon be all over town that he had picked up the yacht; and having in this manner sufficiently advertised her, he stood off towards the open bay, passing between the Spindles off the point.
"Where are you going to now, Bob?" asked Monkey.