‘Beg your honour’s pardon, I’m sure, sir,’ said Finn. ‘I didn’t quite take ye as meaning to be literal. Five days’ start, you know, Sir Wilfrid——’
‘What is that to me?’ cried my cousin impetuously; ‘it’s the unexpected you’ve got to make ready for at sea, man. Figure something having gone wrong with the “Shark”—her masts overboard—a leak—fire. Any way,’ he cried with the heat of a man who means to have his will, but who grows suddenly sensible of the weakness of his arguments, ‘have a fellow stationed aloft day and night. D’ye hear me, Finn?’
‘Certainly I hear you, Sir Wilfrid.’
He knuckled his forehead, and was in the act of moving away to give directions, when my cousin stopped him.
‘No use sending blind men aloft, Finn—mere gogglers like myself, worse luck! You must find out the men with eyes in their heads in this ship.’
Finn hung in the wind, sending a dull rolling glance at the five-guinea piece nailed to the mainmast. ‘If it worn’t for that,’ he exclaimed, pointing to it, ‘it wouldn’t matter; but if I pick and choose, ’twill be like stirring up the inside of a sty. The men’ll argue that the piece of money is for the first man that sights the “Shark,” and they’ll think it hard that a few of them only should be selected to stand a look-out aloft; for it will be but one of ’em that’s chosen as can airn the money.’
‘Very true,’ said I.
‘Confound it, Charles!’ cried my cousin angrily, ‘what’ll be the good of posting a short-sighted man up there?’
‘All hands, Captain Finn, have got two eyes apiece in their heads?’ said I.
‘All, sir,’ he answered after a little reflection, ‘saving the mate, and he’s got two eyes too; only one makes a foul hawse of t’other.’