Stephen, agreeing to this, set off, and was soon at the door of the cottage. A superior-looking seafaring man opened it and bade him enter.
“Does the boat brought up in the bay belong to you, friend?” he asked.
“Yes, and as wholesome a one as ever floated on salt water; she will go through any amount of sea, always provided she is properly handled.”
“Then I should think she is just the craft to suit my two friends and me. I want to know whether you will let her to us for a couple of weeks or so.”
“Where do you want to go to in her?” asked the old man, eyeing his visitor.
“To be honest with you, we desire to be put across either to the coast of France, or should the wind prove favourable, we should prefer running on to Holland.”
The old man eyed Stephen narrowly as he was speaking. “You have some particular reason, I conclude, for wishing to get off,” he remarked. “It is not merely a pleasure trip you wish to make, and if you go, I need not expect you to bring the boat back again.”
“To be frank with you, we have a particular reason,” said Stephen. “We are willing to pay accordingly. We will hand over to you a security, and pay a certain sum down, and give you a promissory note for the remainder.”
The old man seemed to be turning the matter in his mind. “I cannot send the boat alone, but you shall have the man who usually sails her since I have been laid by, Joe Savin, and my lad Tom Peddler, provided you pay their wages from the time they sail to the time they return into harbour.”
To this Stephen willingly agreed, highly pleased to make the bargain with so little trouble. He accordingly, mounting his horse, rode back to where he had left Andrew and Simon, who at once accompanied him to the house of the old pilot, for such he appeared to be. Here they all three underwent a further scrutiny.