"She belongs to a friend of mine; but we will try her."
Paul and John hoisted the sails, and got everything in readiness to slip the moorings, when the captain wished John to take the Blowout over to her berth, and they would take him on board again. He consented, and the two boats were soon headed towards the beach; but the Fawn made three rods as often as the Blowout made one.
At last John worked the clumsy old boat up to the beach, and jumped on board the Fawn. The language with which he expressed his satisfaction at her performance under sail was not very elegant or well chosen; but it undoubtedly expressed his opinion, so that no mistakes in regard to his meaning could have been excused.
"You like her, do you, Paul?" asked Captain Littleton for the tenth time.
"Very much indeed. She is a beauty! Who owns her, sir?"
"She belongs to a young friend of mine—one Paul Duncan."
"Sir! What!"
"Exactly so, Paul. She belongs to you, and henceforth you are to be the skipper of the Fawn."