e Count to Uncle Paul; "but I
feel humbled, sir. Why could not our French sailors have been able to
do this?"

"Well," said Uncle Paul good-humouredly, "the only reason I can give is
that they were not English."

"That's it, sir," said the skipper. "You have hit the right nail on the
head. But look here, Mr Count--I don't know your name."

"Des Saix," said the Count, smiling.

"Look here, sir; this is nothing to make a fuss about. It will keep you
afloat while the weather's fine, but just come a rough time, those sails
will be ripped off as easily as pocket-handkerchiefs. Besides, they
will hinder your sailing no end."

"Ah, that is bad," said the Count, changing countenance.

"Oh no, not it. There's worse disasters than that at sea."

"But will it not be possible for the carpenters to stop the leaks?"

"No, sir; not unless you do what I say."

"Ah! What is that?"

"Run your craft up one of the rivers to where you can careen on the mad,
and then a few hours between tides will be enough to put everything
straight."

"Is there no other way?" asked the Count.

"Only downwards, sir," cried the skipper; and the French lad glanced
questioningly at Rodd, who shook his head.

"No," said the boy, almost in a whisper. "I don't think there is any
other way. He is quite right."

After another hour's pumping, the skipper gave out his intention of
going back to the schooner; but the Count would not hear of it. He
begged and implored Uncle Paul to give him their company at the
breakfast he was having prepared, and after a little hesitation the
doctor gave way, and suggested to the skipper that they should leave
their departure till late in the afternoon, when a far better opinion
could be given of the state of the brig.

"What do you say, squire?" said the skipper, looking at Rodd.

"Oh yes, let's stay!" And his impulsive young French friend grasped him
by the wrist.

"Very well, gentlemen, I have only one thing to say, for I don't suppose
the schooner will sail away and leave us behind. Let them call it
dinner, and I'll stop. I aren't been in the habit of eating my
breakfast at two o'clock in the day."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

THE COUNT CAN'T FIND WORDS.

That afternoon, after what had proved to be a very friendly, pleasant
breakfast, through which nothing could have been more courteous and
hospitable than the conduct of the Count and his son towards those with
whom they had become so strange