“No. She was a two-stick schooner, but she had a big auxiliary engine and was under both steam and sail. The Sea Spell, she was.”
“The Sea Spell!” I cried, in surprise. “I know her. I’ve been aboard her. Cap’n Tugg, skipper and owner.”
“That’s the Yankee,” said my friend. “And ain’t he a cleaner? What do you suppose he had in tow?”
I was too amazed to answer, and the man went on:
“That’s one cute Yankee, that Adoniram Tugg. If there wasn’t but two dollars left in the world he’d have one in his pocket and a mortgage on the other.”
I had to laugh at this description of the master of the Sea Spell. And it hit off Adoniram pretty well, too.
“That Yankee has made a killing this time,” continued my informant. “He has been for weeks cruising south of here, so he yelled across to Cap’n Somes, hunting for an old whaler stranded in the ice.”
“The Firebrand. I know about her. Indeed, I’ve seen her,” I said, and told him the story of my cruise on the Gypsey Girl and how we had come across the frozen ship and I had boarded her.
“Well! don’t that beat cock-fighting!” ejaculated the seaman, who was called Job Perkins. “That old ile boiler was worth a mint of money.”
“I know it. They said she had fifty thousand dollars in oil aboard.”