"Deck? Who wants a deck?" he answered. "She's all right. You must keep baling, that's all. She would, be all the better for some white-lead and paint."
"Why not give them to her?" I asked.
He pointed to an island about a mile distant and a headland half a mile across the bay. "Keep within those two spots," he said, "and you'll be all right. It's not safe to take her beyond. There might be squalls."
"Rather limited," I suggested.
"There's grand water in between," he said. "Deep too in places. Nine fathoms."
"Where's the man to sail her?" I asked.
"The man?" he replied. "Aren't you going to sail her yourself? Your letter said nothing about a man."
"Good heavens!" I said, "you surely wouldn't let a total stranger try to sail a boat here among all these unknown rocks and currents?"
From his manner it was plain that he would, cheerfully.
"Well, I've no man to spare," he said at last. "But there's a boy in the village who could come. He's not right in his head quite, but he'll be handy."