_ CHAPTER NINE. CAPTAIN CHUBB
The next day was spent in Plymouth, and letting the idea of a visit to Salcombe rest in abeyance for a time, Uncle Paul called on different shipping agents, made inquiries in the docks, looked over two or three small vessels that he was assured would be exactly the thing he wanted, and which could be handed over to him at once if decided on; and at last, utterly wearied out, he returned home with Rodd very much impressed by the feeling that it was much easier to say what he required, than to get his wants supplied.
He was a little better after they had had a good hearty tea meal, but there was a great deal of truth in Rodd's mental remark that Uncle Paul was as cross as two sticks. Rodd quite started, feeling as he did that he must have spoken aloud, and Uncle Paul have heard his words, for the doctor turned upon him sharply, stared him full in the face, and exclaimed--
"Now, look here, sir; didn't I explain to each of those agents exactly the sort of vessel I wanted before they gave me their orders to go and view the craft where they lay in dock or on the mud?"
"Yes, uncle, you told them exactly," replied Rodd.
"Do I look like an idiot, Rodd?"
"No, uncle. What a question!"
"Then how dare the scoundrels deal with me as if I didn't know what I was about! I said a schooner as plain as I could speak."
"You did, uncle."
"And one sent me to see that ramshackle old brig that looked as if it might have been a tender out of the Armada, and the two others sent me to see a barque that would want twice as big a crew as I should take, and the other to look over that abominable old billy-boy that you couldn't tell bow from stern, which so sure as she bumps upon a sandbank would melt away like butter. Thinking of nothing else but making a bit of commission, ready to sell one anything; but I am not going to be tricked like that.--Yes, what do you want? What is it?"
For the neat handmaid who attended on the doctor's wants had tapped at the door, and receiving no answer from her master, whose voice she could hear declaiming loudly, opened the door and walked in, with--
"Somebody wants to see you, sir, if you please."
"Then tell somebody I don't please," said the doctor shortly.
"Yes, sir," said the maid, going.
"No, stop! I don't want to be rude, even if people have put me out. What does Mrs Somebody want?"
"Please, sir, it isn't a Mrs, it's a Mister," said the girl.
"Go and see him, Rodd," said the doctor shortly. "I expect it's somebody wants subscriptions, and I haven't got any."
"Please, sir," interposed the maid, "the--er--gent--person--said he'd heard say that you wanted a captain."
Uncle Paul grunted, frowned, and then in a surly tone exclaimed--
"Well, there, show him in."
The next minute the maid re-opened the door, showing in a heavy, sun-tanned, middle-aged man, who thrust the cap he carried into the yawning pocket of a dark blue pea-jacket, stared hard at the doctor, glanced at Rodd, and then turning sharply on his heels he stood with his back to the latter, stiff, squared, and sturdy, looking as the boy thought like a hop-sack set on end, and stared at the maid where she stopped, literally fixing her with his eyes for a few moments, before, quite startled at the fierceness of his gaze, she darted out, closing the door loudly.
"Business. Private!" literally growled the visitor.
"Well, what is it?" said the doctor shortly.
"'Eard you wanted a skipper, and come up."
"Well," said Uncle Paul, looking very hard at his unprepossessing visitor, while Rodd felt as if he wanted to laugh, but held the desire in check, "I may want one by and by, and a crew too; but I must have a ship first."
"What sort?"
"Well, you are pretty blunt," said the doctor.
"Yes," said the visitor, with a nod; and he waited, but turned his eyes from the doctor and looked very hard at the nearest chair.
"Ah, yes," said the doctor. "Sit down, Captain--Captain--"
The doctor waited for an answer, but the only answer made was by a movement, his visitor taking two steps towards the chair, and plumping down so heavily that the brass casters creaked.
The doctor glanced at his nephew, and then at the stranger, who seemed to be frowning at him with all his might.
"Er--what did you say your name was, captain?"
"Didn't say," said the visitor huskily. "Wanter know?"
"Well--yes," said the doctor. "I don't see how we are to transact business without."
"Chubb, Jonathan."
"Well, Captain Chubb?"
"Plymouth."
"Oh, I see; Captain Chubb, of Plymouth," continued the doctor.
"Right. Go on."
"Well, I gave you to understand that I wanted a ship before I engaged a captain."
"Skipper; not R.N."
"I see; but I wished to be polite," said the doctor.
"Skipper," grunted the man.
"Where have you sailed?" asked the doctor.
"Everywhere."
"Ah! Then you have had plenty of experience."
The visitor nodded, and the doctor was going to speak again, but the visitor interposed with a sidewise nod in the direction of Rodd, and said--
"Your boy?"
"Well, yes, in a way," replied the doctor.
The captain grunted.
"Boys always are," he said, and Rodd turned upon him angrily.
"I said in _a_ way, not in _the_ way," muttered the doctor.
"'Most the same," growled the captain. "A boy, the boy, means boy. What sort of a ship? First, where do you want to go?"
"I don't quite know myself," replied the doctor, "so we will say as you did, everywhere."
"Right," said the captain. "What for?"
"Why do you ask?" replied the doctor, rather tartly.
"Had four offers. Wouldn't take them."
"Why?" asked the doctor.
"Smuggling contraband."
"Oh, I see," said the doctor quickly. "Well, it's nothing of that sort."
"When do you sail?"
"As soon as I can get a ship."
"Plenty lying about waiting for cargo. Take your choice."
"That seems to be easier said than done, captain, for I am hard to please."
"So'm I," said the visitor, staring hard at Rodd, beginning with the crown of his head and then looking him slowly down where he sat till he reached the carpet by Rodd's right foot, and then making his eyes cross over, he began at the toe of the boy's left foot and slowly looked him up to where he had started at the top of the boy's forehead, where a tickling sensation had commenced, consequent upon the starting out of a faint dew of perspiration.
"I'm glad to hear it," said the doctor, "for I want a well-found craft, new or nearly so, built of the best materials."
"Good; ought to be. What sort?"
"Well, I should like a large schooner, fast and with plenty of room below."
"Cargo?" grunted the captain.
"No. Provisions, etcetera," said the doctor, who was beginning to feel annoyed.
"Ho!" came in a grunt, and then after a keen look at Rodd's uncle, he uttered the one word, "Weepens?"
"Weepens?" said the doctor.
"Yes. Long Tom and small-arms."
"Oh, arms. Yes, I should certainly have one of those big swivel guns amidships, and a couple of smaller ones, as well as muskets, cutlasses and boarding pikes."
So far the captain's features seemed as if they had been carved out of solid mahogany, but now they began to relax; his lips parted, and he showed a small even set of beautifully white teeth, while his eyes looked brighter to Rodd and seemed to twinkle; but he remained silent.
"Well," said the doctor, "what are you laughing at?"
He checked the word which had nearly escaped his lips, because he thought it would be rude, and he did not say grinning.
"Cat," said the man solemnly, and to Rodd's great discomposure he turned to him and winked.
"Cat?" said the doctor sharply.
"Ay, ay! Out of the bag."
"I don't understand you," said the doctor warmly.
"Won't do for me, master. Not in my way."
"Well," said the doctor, "I am afraid I must say you are not in my way."
"Poor beggars!"
"Well, really, my good man," began the doctor, "I am a bit of a student, and take a good deal of interest in natural history. Cats may be poor beggars, but that is no business of mine."
"Yes, if you are going to sail. Think of your crew."
"I am thinking of my crew, and I want to engage one," said the doctor.
"Men hate black cats. Unlucky."
"I have heard of that superstition before, Captain Chubb," said the doctor, "but that seems to be quite outside our business now. As a captain--or skipper--I should have thought you would have been above such childish notions."
"Am," said the man. "T'other won't do for me. I've seen it all. Won't get a skipper from this port."
"Why?" said the doctor indignantly. "I am ready to give an experienced captain good payment."
"Want commission."
"Oh, nonsense! I couldn't pay on commission."
"Nowt to me. That's what a skipper would want. Ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Well, of all--" began the doctor; but the skipper did not let him finish.
"Too bad," he said, growling; "and to take a boy like that!"
"My good fellow," said the doctor, "if I choose to take my nephew with me upon a natural history expedition--"
"Natural history expedition! Catching blackbirds! Oh, I say!"
He shook his head slowly at the doctor, whose face grew so red with wrath as he turned towards Rodd, and looked so comical, that the boy could not contain himself, but bent his face down into his hands and burst into a roar of laughter.
"You are a nice 'un," grunted the captain, shaking his head now at Rodd. "You'll grow into a beauty!"
It was the boy's turn to look angry now, and he glanced from the captain to his uncle and back.
"Look here, youngster," cried the captain; "Guinea Coast, eh?"
"Possibly," said the doctor.
"Bight of Benin?"
"Maybe," said the doctor, the short speech seeming contagious.
"Ketch the fever?"
"Probably," said the doctor.
"Both on yer."
"Well, sir, I shall risk that," continued the doctor.
"Both on yer off your heads, seeing niggers. Rattling their chains."
"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 ejaculations squeezed into one--"Well!" _