“No, sir, I’m not. When the Silver Swan is in shape again, I shall put Mr. Bolin in command of her. I’ve already spoken to him about it.”
“Whew!” whistled Mr. Coffin. “And the whaleback?”
“You’ll command her; that was the agreement I made with Adoniram before we left New York.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wetherbee,” exclaimed the first officer gratefully. “But may I ask what you propose to do?”
“I shall retire from the sea—that is, from commandin’ a ship, any way.”
“So you’re goin’ to keep bachelor’s hall, and going to take this Swivel to it?” and Mr. Coffin shook his head gravely. “He really needs a woman’s nursing.”
Caleb grew very red in the face, and blew his nose furiously.
“He—he’ll get it, Mr. Coffin,” he said hesitatingly.
Both Brandon and the first officer looked at the old tar in blank amazement.
“I said he’d get it,” repeated Caleb solemnly, though with a rather shamefaced look. “He’ll get it, sir, an’ from the trimmest little woman ye ever see.”