“That is not sailor fashion,” said he, stepping to a quadrant case and taking the instrument up out of it. “A sailor jumps; he never deliberates.”
“I have no clothes save what I am wearing,” said I.
“We are well stocked with slops,” he exclaimed. “Dutch-made, to be sure, but they are good togs.”
“I am without nautical instruments,” said I, looking at the quadrant which he held.
“I have three of these,” he answered, “and one is at your service.”
I rose and took a turn, full of thought, wishing to say “Yes” but wishing to consider, too.
“Even were Van Laar,” said he, “as good and trustworthy a seaman as ever stepped a deck, I would rather have a fellow-countryman for a mate than a Dutchman, though the Dutchman were the better man. In this case it is wholly the other way about. Here are you, fresh from a long voyage, with the experiences of the sea green upon you. You are young; you are English. I owe you my life; and what a debt is that! Together we can make this voyage not only a rich but a jolly jaunt. On the other hand, is Van Laar—no, plague on him, he is not on the other hand, he is out of it. Well, I must now go on deck to take sights. Let me have your answer soon.”
He extended his hand, received mine, pressed it cordially, and quitted the cabin.
I followed with Galloon, and, entering the stateroom, paced the deck of it and turned Greaves’ proposal over. While I paced, Van Laar, with a quadrant in his hand, came out of a cabin abreast of the captain’s. He stared me full and insolently in the face, and said in a tone of irony:
“Vell, how vhas it mit you? Do you feel like going home now?”