Captain Brisket started and reflected. A nod from Mr. Tredgold and a significant gesture in the direction of the unconscious Mr. Chalk decided him. "Very good, gentlemen," he said, cheerfully. "I'm in your hands, and Peter Ducket'll do what I do. It's settled he's coming, I suppose?"
Mr. Tredgold, after a long look at the anxious face of Mr. Duckett, said "Yes," and then at Captain Brisket's suggestion the party adjourned to the Jack Ashore, where in a little room upstairs, not much larger than the schooner's cabin, the preparations for the voyage were discussed in detail.
"And mind, Peter," said Captain Brisket to his friend, as the pair strolled along by the harbour after their principals had departed, "the less you say about this the better. We don't want any Biddlecombe men in it."
"Why not?" inquired the other.
"Because," replied Brisket, lowering his voice, "there's more in this than meets the eye. They're not the sort to go on a cruise to the islands for pleasure—except Chalk, that is. I've been keeping my ears open, and there's something afoot. D'ye take me?"
Mr. Duckett nodded shrewdly.
"I'll pick a crew for 'em," said Brisket. "A man here and a man there. Biddlecombe men ain't tough enough. And now, what about that whisky you've been talking so much about?"
[CHAPTER XIII]
Further secrecy as to the projected trip being now useless, Mr. Tredgold made the best of the situation and talked freely concerning it. To the astonished Edward he spoke feelingly of seeing the world before the insidious encroachments of age should render it impossible; to Captain Bowers, whom he met in the High Street, he discussed destinations with the air of a man whose mind was singularly open on the subject. If he had any choice it appeared that it was in the direction of North America.