that way. But we won't boast, Pickle, for, as they say, we will not
holloa till we are out of the wood. Let me see; isn't there an old
proverb something about a man not boasting till he taketh off his
armour?"

"I think so, uncle, but I cannot recollect the words."

"Well, I don't want any armour, my boy, but I do want a well-found
schooner--a new one if I can get it; if not, one that will stand a
thorough examination; and I don't know that such a boat's to be got just
now it's wanted. There are plenty of ramshackle old things lying about
here, but I want everything spick-and-span ready for the extra fitting
out I shall give her. Copper-fastened, quick-sailing, roomy, and with
good cabin accommodation so that we can have a big workshop for the men
who help us, and a sort of study and museum for ourselves. Now, Pickle,
where shall we have to go to find such a craft? Portsmouth--London?
What about Southampton?"

"Southampton. Yes. Some fine yacht, uncle."

"No, boy. She'd be all mast and sails. Do well for a coaster, but I
want an ocean-going craft, one that will bear some knocking about. A
cargo boat whose hold one could partition off for stores. Now then?"

There was silence for about a minute, and then Uncle Paul spoke again.

"There, out with it, boy, at once. Don't waste time. Say you don't
know."

"But I think I do know, uncle," cried the boy.

"Eh? What? Where? Tchah! Not you!"

"But what about one of those boats the French prisoners escaped in?"
cried Rodd eagerly.

"Eh? What? One of those trim orange boats that go on the Mediterranean
Trade, that they build at Salcombe?"

"Yes, uncle. Don't you remember that one we were looking at a few
months ago, that came in here after the storm, to get a new jibboom?"

"Why, of course I do, Pickle!" cried Uncle Paul eagerly. "Think of
that, now! Why, I might have been fumbling about with a hammer for
months and not found what I wanted, and here are you, you impudent young
rascal, proving that you are not quite so stupid as I thought, for you
hit the right nail on the head at once."

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