“It’s of no consequence,” bawled Mr. Brentin through his hands. “Good-afternoon!”
“Why doesn’t the old shakes carry a trumpet” he said, angrily, as we went down-stairs. “What’s the matter with a trumpet?”
In the hall, before leaving him, I hastened to explain I had no thought of expending three thousand pounds in the purchase of Sir Anthony’s or any yacht whatsoever; that my contribution to the expedition would be the idea, and so many of the resolute men as I could lay hands on among my friends.
“That will be all right, Mr. Blacker,” Brentin loftily replied; “I will see after the yacht portion of the affair. It can be made good to me, if I run short, out of the boodle, and, if it all fails, I have no doubt I shall have my money value in excitement. In the meantime, sir, let us waltz in and secure the yacht, to begin with. If you will be free in the morning, we will descend upon Ryde and Captain Evans. If we find him going to sea, so much the better; we shall have the opportunity of testing the sailing capacities of the Amaranth. Good-day to you, sir. I have to thank you for infusing my exhossted veins with a breath of the true spirit of the forty-niners, who made the State of California what she is. The holding up of ay Sacramento bank will be nothing to this, sir, if we don’t spile—that is, spoil—it.”
CHAPTER VIII
WE GO TO RYDE—THE AMARANTH—ACCIDENTAL MEETING WITH ARTHUR MASTERS AND HIS LADY FRIEND—I ENROLL HIM AMONG US PROVISIONALLY—WE DECIDE TO PURCHASE THE YACHT
I don’t know that it would be altogether necessary to the course of the narrative of this work to say much about our visit to Ryde and the Amaranth were it not that, while there, we accidentally encountered Arthur Masters, an old friend and school-fellow of mine. He was staying at Seaview, and, being in a mazed condition of lovelornness (for nothing short of it would have induced him to neglect the harriers of which he is master in Hertfordshire), had come over for the day with the young lady, and was spending it there mainly on the pier, being uncommonly warm and fine for November.
Mr. Brentin and I had just arrived, and were keeping our weather-eye open for the Amaranth, when we came on Arthur and his young lady sitting on the pier in the sun. She was introduced to us as Miss Rybot, and wore a straw-hat and a shirt, just as though it were summer.
We told them we had come down about a yacht, and, if we could only find her, were thinking of making a small trial-trip across the Solent.
As we were talking and persuading them to accompany us, up comes a sailor in a blue jersey, with Amaranth across it in red, and hands us a printed bill.