"Me pilot," he explained, with a deep bow and a flourish of his hat. "Me pilot 'pointed by Republic. Me take you in."
"Is it safe to cross the bar?" asked Captain Restronguet eagerly.
"Yes, senhor; me take you in for so many milreis," and he held up the fingers of both hands four times.
It was a matter of nearly nine pounds--thrice the amount the Portuguese expected to receive. It was part of his nature to make allowances for being beaten down.
"I'll make it gold to the value of eighty milreis if you put me inside the bar to-night," said Captain Restronguet.
"Me take you up to Marromea--that am de port--for dat," exclaimed the pilot gleefully. "How much you draw?"
"Twelve feet," replied Captain Restronguet.
The Portuguese had no need to make a calculation to arrive at the depth in "bracas," since the British fathom is almost identical with the Portuguese "braca."
"Too ver' much," he exclaimed, shaking his head.
"I can reduce it to seven feet."