r, who had already handed into the boat what he
called his bag of tricks, the said tricks being composed of an adze,
saws, chisels, augers, and nails, and very shortly afterwards the oars
were dipping, and with Uncle Paul and Rodd in the stern-sheets they were
gliding over the glittering sea and rapidly shortening the distance
between them and the beautiful brig, which won a string of encomiums
from the skipper as they drew near.

"Yes, she is a beauty," he said. "It would be a pity to let her go
down. Look at her lines, and the way she's rigged. If I wanted to sail
a brig I wouldn't wish for a better; but then, you see, I don't. She's
a bit low in the water, though, and no mistake. Well, we shall see; we
shall see."

The Count and his son were eagerly awaiting their coming, and welcomed
them warmly as they mounted the side, while, casting off his show of
indifference, the skipper cast an admiring glance round the deck of the
brig, and then gruffly exclaimed--

"Now then, sir, I want your bo'sun. But look here, can he parley
English?"

"No," said the Count, "but my son and I will interpret everything you
wish to hear."

"I don't know as I want to hear anything, sir," growled the skipper. "I
want to see for myself, and after that mebbe I shall want to give a few
orders, which I will ask you to have carried out."

"Yes; everything you wish shall be done directly."

"Umph!" grunted the skipper, looking round. "Pump rigged, and two men
trying to keep the water under. Ought to be four."

"Yes, of course," cried the Count, and he turned to give an order; but
Captain Chubb clapped his hand upon his arm.

"Hold hard," he said. "They'll do for a bit. Now then, I want to go
below and sound the well."

The Count and his son led the way below, the French crew standing aloof
and displaying the discipline of a man-of-war, no man leaving his place
while the skipper made all the investigations he required, and then came
up on deck with his mahogany face more deeply lined with wrinkles than
before.

"Well, captain," said Uncle Paul, while Rodd, who had kept close to his
young friend of the Dartmoor stream, eagerly listened for what their
expert had to say.

"Well, sir," he said, at last, as he took out a little seal-skin bag and
deliberately helped himself to a little ready-cut scrap of pigtail
tobacco, "your craft's in a bad way, and if something isn't done pretty
smart she'll be down at the bottom before lon