"Have you looked at the cap-iron, Mr. Carpenter?"
"Yes, sir; most careful."
"How is that?"
"Sound as a bell."
The captain rubbed his hands again. What a fortunate thing for him, after all, was this fault in the rudder-head. Only for it the Duke might not think, for goodness knew how long, of parting with the Seabird, and, of course, until he did think of parting with her, he could not think of making her a present to him, Captain Drew. Wonderful how things fall out!
As far as the rudder went, all now being in a satisfactory condition, and the watch sufficiently strong to deal with the duty of taking in sail, the captain told the first mate to turn in and the carpenter to go forward to his own duties, having ordered him to leave the lantern behind him. To the second mate he said:
"I'll take charge, Mr. Starclay. You can turn in, if you like."
"Thank you, sir," said the second mate; and he, too, went forward. The captain and Pritchard were now the only men on the quarter-deck. The former went below, told the Duke, and came back to the deck.
Captain Drew was too full of thought for sleep. His pay was very good, more than very good. He was perfectly content to remain as he was. The Duke and the Marquis had always treated him well. He had nothing to complain of, and he had never complained. When he was afloat he lived like a prince. When he was ashore he had a comfortable home, and a wife and children, who were dearer to him than all the rest of the world. But, notwithstanding the liberal pay of the Duke, and that he had been many years in his grace's employment, he had, owing to no extravagance on his part, but to the way in which he had kept his home and brought up his family, been able to lay nothing aside for a rainy day. Now he was between forty and fifty; all his children were still upon his hands, and his pay was no more than kept them and his wife comfortably. He had of late felt some anxiety as to what he should do with his boys and girls. He knew that if anything happened to himself, the Duke would pension his widow. But the children were now old enough to have their careers indicated at least, and he lacked the means of starting them.
Now all had been changed. This yacht would become his property the moment they reached Silver Bay, and she would fetch from five to six thousand pounds! What a blessing! She was as good as his own already. They all thought the rudder-head would hold. For anything else he cared nothing. She was a good sea-boat. She was stiff. He knew her from stem to stem. If the rudder-cap held, he feared nothing wind or wave could do. This gift had made his fortune, and from the Seabird's deck he would not go until she had dropped anchor safe inside the reef-protected Silver Bay.