"Not a penny, not a farthing," answered the man, giving my shoulder a push. "Come into the woods. I have some duds that might fit you here in my bundle."
My hands and, indeed, my knees also, were trembling so that I had to have his assistance (a strange tiring-maid) in getting into my clothes. But in ten minutes I was rigged out all-a-taun-to in the outfit of a swaggering privateers-man, even to the shirt opened at the throat and the half-fathom of neckerchief. I recollect that I was crazy to see how I looked in it.
"And here's a cap, too," he said. "It has a Portugee rake to it, but never mind; now you're ship-shape."
He stood off and looked at me, with his head sidewise, as if I was wholly some workmanship of his own hands.
"ANCHOR'S ATRIP!" HE CRIED; "SET SAIL AND AWAY."
"Anchor's atrip," he cried, imitating the shrilling of a boatswain's whistle; "set sail and away."
"How—how can I thank you?" I said, half faltering, and blushing, for I felt hot all over.
"By meeting me ten days from now in Stonington. There's a crack brig, the Young Eagle, about to sail from there; and though they'll take few greenhorns, togged out that way you can pass muster. Ship with me, mess-mate. I'll help you out!" He grasped my hand. "Ah, you've got a good grip for a rope! And look at the chest and the arm of you! Big as my own, I'll warrant."
I had never realized what a size I had become; but I had been finding out that it was only my uncle's skill that kept me from disarming him in our fencing-bouts of late, and that Gaston had not laid hands on me since some time before my illness. Now I was fully recovered and in fine fettle.