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The Ocean Cat's Paw: The Story of a Strange Cruise, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 10. At Cross Purposes |
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_ CHAPTER TEN. AT CROSS PURPOSES Captain Chubb stood looking back at Uncle Paul, then at Rodd, then back at Uncle Paul. After that he gave a slow, puzzled scratch at his shaggy head as if hard at work trying to make out a mystery, before turning once more to Rodd. "I say, youngster," he cried, "you don't mean that, do you?--Warn't I right?" "Right? No!" cried Rodd, laughing more heartily than ever. "The idea of Uncle Paul going out with a slaver!" "Did you mean that, Captain Chubb?" said Uncle Paul, beginning indignantly, and then softening down as he caught sight of his nephew's mirthful face. "Allus says what I mean," grunted the captain. "Then I was all wrong?" "Wrong, yes," said Uncle Paul. "We were all at cross purposes." "Ho!" ejaculated the captain, and he took off his cap that he had put on with a fierce cock, turned it over two or three times in his hands, and then looking into it read over the maker's name to himself, as if fully expecting that that would help him out of his difficulty. "Say, squire," he said; "I didn't mean to be so rude." "No, no, of course not," cried Uncle Paul. "There, there; sit down again. It was all a mistake. Perhaps we shall understand one another better now." "Well, I don't know," grunted the skipper. "Better go perhaps." "No, no, man; I'm not offended. You thought I was a blackguardly ruffian who wanted to trap you into commanding a slaving craft for me, so that I could engage in that horrible trade of baying and selling my fellow-creatures; and you spoke out like a man. Here, shake hands, Captain Chubb. I honour you for your outspoken manly honesty." "Mean it?" grunted the skipper, hesitating. "Mean it, yes," said Uncle Paul, "and I hope this will be the beginning of our becoming great friends." "Humph!" grunted the captain, and extending his heavy hand he gave Uncle Paul a shake with no nonsense about it, for though Rodd's uncle did not wince, he told the boy afterwards that it was the most solid shake he had ever had in his life. Rodd fully endorsed it, as he knew directly after exactly what the skipper's salute meant, for Captain Chubb, after releasing the uncle's hand, extended what Rodd afterwards said was a paw, to the lad himself. "Well, now then, Captain Chubb." "Very sorry, sir, I'm sure. Thought I saw broken water and a shoal. Hadn't I better go?" "No, no, captain," cried Uncle Paul. "I am beginning to think you are just the man I want." "Ho!" said the skipper. "Mebbe. Let's see." "Well," continued Uncle Paul, "I want a vessel, a schooner. Do you know of a likely one that could be purchased and made ready at once for a trip down the West Coast?" Captain Chubb looked hard at the speaker, then at Rodd, with the effect of making the boy feel as if he must laugh, for there was something so thoroughly comical in the stolid face, that nothing but the dread of hurting the visitor's feelings kept him from bursting into a roar, especially as, after fixing him with his eyes, the skipper seemed to be taking careful observations, looking up at the ceiling as if in search of clouds, at the carpet for sunken rocks, and then, so to speak, sweeping the offing by slowly gazing at the four walls in turn. "Schooner," he said at last gruffly. "Yes," said Uncle Paul; "a smart, fast-sailing schooner." "Well-found," grunted the skipper. "Of course, and with a good crew." "_And_ a good crew," growled the skipper. "Yes. Can you show me where I can get such an one?" "No. Look-out." He picked up and put on his cap again, took it off, and looked in the lining, and then gave his right leg a smart slap. "Dunno as I don't," he roared. "What do you say to a horange boat?" "Orange boat?" cried Rodd. "Why, uncle's been thinking of one of those!" "Well, why not?" said the captain; "a Saltcomber?" "Yes," cried Rodd. "Well-built, fast, plenty of room below for cargo or what not, plenty of provisions and water, but no guns." "That's just the sort of vessel I want," cried Uncle Paul. "Do you think one's to be had over there?" "Sure on it. See one last week as they was just getting up her standing rigging." "What, a new one?" cried Rodd. "Ay. Fresh launched, and being made ready for sea." "Capital!" cried Uncle Pad. "Who does she belong to?" "Ship-builder as yet." "And what would be her price?" "Dunno. All depends," grunted the captain. "Most likely as much as the builder could get; but if a man went with the money in his pocket, or say in the bank, ready to pay down on the nail, he could get a smart craft that would do him justice at a fair working price. What do you say to coming over and having a look at her?" "Yes. How are we to get there? By coach?" "Tchah!" ejaculated the skipper. "Who's going in a coach when he can be run over in one of our luggers? You say the word, and I have got a friend with a little fore-and-after as only wants him and a hand and mebbe me to give a pull at a sheet. He'd run you over in no time." "By all means, then, let's go," said Uncle Paul, to Rodd's great satisfaction. "Well, yes," growled the skipper. "But who's a-going with you?" "My nephew," said Uncle Paul. "Ah, yes; and I suppose he's a good judge of such a craft, and could vally her from keel to truck. Don't seem a bad sort of boy, but he won't do. Nay, squire, you want somebody as you can trust. A'n't you got an old friend, ship-owner or ship's husband--man who's got his head screwed on the right way, one you knows as honest and won't take a hundred pounds from t'other side to sell the ship for them?" "Well, no; I'm afraid I don't know such a man," said Uncle Paul. "Have to find one," grunted the skipper. "Won't do to buy a ship with your eyes shut. Got yourself to think of as well as your money. You don't want to engage a skipper and a crew of good men and true, and drownd them all at sea." "Well, no," said Uncle Paul dryly; "our ambitions don't lie in that direction, do they, Rodd?" "No, uncle, but no man would be such a wretch as to sell you a ship that wasn't safe." "Not unless he got the chanst," said the skipper, frowning. "I know some on them, and what they have done, and I don't want to command a craft like that. Been at sea too long." "Well, then," said Uncle Paul, "you must have had great experience, and could judge whether a schooner's good or not." "Dessay I could," said the skipper, "but I aren't perfect." "But you ought to be a good judge," said Uncle Paul. "Mebbe, but I wouldn't go by my own opinion if it was my trade instead of yourn." "But look here," cried Uncle Paul, "I should like you to see the vessel and act for me." "Tchah! Not likely, squire. What do you know about me?" "Well, not much, certainly," said Uncle Paul, "and I should want a character with you as to your being a good seaman." "Of course; and if you didn't like me, and I warn't up to my work, why, you could get rid of me. But that's a very different thing to buying a ship." "Yes," said Uncle Paul, "but what about the ship-builder? Is he an honest man?" "Oh yes, I think so." "Couldn't he give good references?" "Well, yes. Old established; built a lot of craft. Dessay he'd find a few to say a word for him." "And I suppose I could have the opinion of some well-known ship valuer?" "Yes," grunted the skipper, "but he's only in trade. You want to know what some old sailor says." "Such as you," cried Rodd. The skipper looked at the boy and smiled. "Well, mebbe," he said, "but I don't want the job." "Well, we'll talk about that another time," said Uncle Paul. "What I want is for you to help me by going over with us to have a look at the schooner." "Ah!" said the skipper. "And you may as well give me a reference or two to somebody who knows your abilities--somebody well-known in Plymouth, a ship-owner, somebody for whom you have sailed. Will you do this?" "Ay," said the skipper. "Well, whose name will you give me? To whom shall I apply?" "Anybody. Everybody in Plymouth." "That's rather wide," said Uncle Paul. "Wider the better," said the skipper. "You ask the lot what they thinks of Captain Chubb." As he spoke the skipper rose and put on his cap, but took it off again quickly. "Time to-morrow will you be ready to start?" he said. "At your time," said Uncle Paul promptly. "Say nine?" asked the captain. "Certainly; nine o'clock to-morrow morning," replied Uncle Paul. "Good. I will be off the landing-place at the Barbican with a boat. Night, sir. Night, youngster. Natural history expedition, eh? And I thought you was going blackbirding! Haw, haw, haw!" This last was intended for a derisive laugh at himself, but it sounded like three grunts, each louder than the last. The next minute the skipper was outside, and his steps were heard growing distant upon the gravel path. "Well, what do you think of our captain, eh, Rodd?" "I think he's a rum 'un, uncle; but he isn't our captain yet." "No, my boy, but if I have my way he will be, and if I hear that he's a skilful navigator, for I want no further recommendation. The way in which he, an old experienced hand, one who would be able to see at a glance how thoroughly I should be at his mercy if he were a trickster whose aim was to make as much money out of the transaction as he could, proved that he was as honest as the day and ready to lay himself open to every examination, that alone without his display of honest indignation when he suspected me of being about to engage in that abominable traffic--there, I want no more. As these sea-going people say, Pickle, Captain Chubb is going to hoist his flag on board my schooner, for as far as I can judge at present he seems to be the man in whom we shall be able to trust." _ |
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