The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 16

"Are you mad, man?" cried the doctor. "Yes."

"I thought so."

"Makes me. Call yourself a Christian! Give it up, and do something honest."

"Well, of all--" cried the doctor again.

"Good five guineas better than five hundred got by buying and selling your fellow-creatures," continued the captain, who was growing quite fluent. "Go to Bristol with you! Won't do for me."

"Mr--I mean, Captain Chubb," began the doctor, "allow me to tell you that you have done nothing but insult me ever since you have been here."

"Honesty," grunted the captain.

"Honesty is no excuse for rudeness, sir. Now have the goodness to go."

"Going," said the captain, rising. "But you are a bad man. To take that boy with you too! Shame!"

"Will you have the goodness to tell me what you mean, sir?"

"No good to bully, sir. I know. Off on the slave trade."

"What!" cried the doctor.

"But look out. King's cruiser will nab you. Sarve you right."

He moved stiffly, and took two steps towards the door, but stopped and turned sharply upon Rodd, clapped his big hairy hand on the boy's shoulder, and gripped it fast. "He's a bad 'un, boy. Don't go." Rodd glanced at his uncle, who was staring with bewilderment, while he, who during the last few minutes had seen clearly what their visitor meant, burst into another roar of laughter and gripped the skipper by the jacket, as he turned to the doctor.

"No, no," he stuttered. "No, no; don't go, captain! Uncle Paul, can't you see? He thinks you are going to the West Coast to buy slaves!"

"Well!" cried Uncle Paul, his voice sounding like ten e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns squeezed into one--"Well!"

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 s.h.a.ggy 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!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the captain, and he took off his cap that he had put on with a fierce c.o.c.k, 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.