By the time the potatoes were cooked the fish was ready for the pan. The cook covered the pieces with Indian meal, and the dinner was soon ready. Bobtail had already set the table. He had put on plates, knives and forks, and glasses for two, a pitcher of water, a plate of pickles, and a dish of hard bread. The fish was placed on the casing of the centre-board, in the middle of the table, consisting of two leaves, which could be dropped down when not in use. Monkey was called, and the dinner proceeded in due form. The Darwinian did not seem to be quite so enthusiastic as at breakfast, perhaps because his table at home was oftener garnished with fish and salt pork than with any other food. However, he did ample justice to the bill of fare, and liberally praised the cook for his skill in the art.
While they were thus pleasantly engaged, they heard a slight bump against the side of the yacht, followed by the sound of voices. With the instinct of a genuine boatman, Bobtail rushed upon deck to assure himself that no harm befell the Skylark, when the other boat came alongside. He found that Prince, in the white sloop, had just put Captain Chinks on board, and had already shoved off. Bobtail looked at the captain, and thought he had taken a great deal of trouble to pay him this visit, for Prince had come about, and was standing up to the village. He felt as though he should now be called upon to give up the Skylark to her rightful owner.
"I'm glad to see you, Captain Chinks," exclaimed he; but what he said was rather complimentary than strictly true—a society fib.
"Won't you come below, and take some dinner with us?"
The captain had been to dinner, for it was now two o'clock in the afternoon, and he began to ask about the Skylark.
CHAPTER VII.
IN THE CABIN OF THE SKYLARK.
Little Bobtail was not particularly glad to see Captain Chinks when he boarded the Skylark, at her anchorage on the fishing-grounds. It seemed as though the captain had taken a great deal of trouble to come down several miles from the village, probably hiring Prince to put him alongside the yacht. Yet he could not help thinking that the slight uneasiness which disturbed him was very absurd. He had permitted himself to hope that the owner of the Skylark would not claim her, or, at least, would not claim her till he had the use of her for a season, the longer the better; but he felt that he had no right to hope any such thing. The yacht was a beautiful craft, and it was in the very height of the boating season. All his hopes, however, had been very vague, and were not founded on any reasonable basis. He had been considering the remotest of possibilities, rather than the slightest probabilities.