l 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."

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THROUGH THE STORM.

"It's enough to make a man say he'll throw up the whole affair," cried
Uncle Paul, running his fingers in amongst his grizzly hair and giving
it a savage tug.

"Uncle! Why, what's the matter now?"

"Yes, you may well say what's the matter now! Everything's the matter.
The worry's almost maddening."

"What, is there anything fresh, uncle?"

"There, don't you take any notice, boy. I get regularly out of heart.
There's always something wrong. It's as if we were never to be off.
All these weary, weary months gone slowly dragging on."

"Why, uncle, they seem to me to go like lightning," cried Rodd.

"Oh, yes, of course. You are a boy, with plenty of time before you. I
am getting an old man, and with little time to spare to do all the work
I want to. I seem to get not a bit farther."

"Why, you do, uncle. It's astonishing what a lot we have done. Let's
see; it's just fifteen mo