Captain Brisket jumped up, and to Mr. Chalk’s horror smote the speaker heavily on the back.  Mr. Stobell, clenching a fist the size of a leg of mutton, pushed his chair back and prepared to rise.

“You’re a trump,” said Captain Brisket, in tones of unmistakable respect,” that’s what you are.  Lord, if I’d got the head for business you have I should be a man of fortune by now.”

Mr. Stobell, who had half risen, sat down again, and, for the first time since his last contract but one, a smile played lightly about the corners of his mouth.  He took another drink and, shaking his head slightly as he put the glass down, smiled again with the air of a man who has been reproached for making a pun.

“Let me do it for you,” said Captain Brisket, impressively.  “I’ll tell you where to go without being seen in the matter or letting old Todd know that I’m in it.  Ask him a price and bate him down; when you’ve got his lowest, come to me and give me one pound in every ten I save you.”

Mr. Tredgold looked at his friends.  “If we do that,” he said, turning to the captain,” it would be to your interest to buy the ship in any case.  How are we to be sure she is seaworthy?”

“Ah, there you are!” said Brisket, with an expansive smile.  “You let me buy for you and promise me the master’s berth, provided you are satisfied with my credentials.  Common sense’ll tell you I wouldn’t risk my own carcass in a rotten ship.”

Mr. Stobell nodded approval and, Captain Brisket with unexpected delicacy withdrawing to the window and becoming interested in the harbour, conferred for some time with his friends.  The captain’s offer being accepted, subject to certain conditions, they settled their bill and made their way to the ferry.

“There’s the schooner,” said the captain, pointing, as they neared the opposite shore;” the Fair Emily, and the place she is lying at is called Todd’s Wharf.  Ask for Mr. Todd, or, better still, walk straight on to the wharf and have a look at her.  The old man’ll see you fast enough.”

He sprang nimbly ashore as the boat’s head touched the stairs, and after extending a hand to Mr. Chalk, which was coldly ignored, led the way up the steps to the quay.

“There’s the wharf just along there,” he said, pointing up the road.  “I’ll wait for you at the Jack Ashore here.  Don’t offer him too much to begin with.”

“I thought of offering a hundred pounds,” said Mr. Tredgold.  “If the ship’s sound we can’t be very much out over that sum.”

Captain Brisket stared at him.  “No; don’t do that,” he said, recovering, and speaking with great gravity.  “Offer him seventy.  Good luck.”

He watched them up the road and then, with a mysterious grin, turned into the Jack Ashore, and taking a seat in the bar waited patiently for their return.

Half an hour passed.  The captain had smoked one pipe and was half through another.  He glanced at the clock over the bar and fidgeted as an unpleasant idea that the bargain, despite Mr. Tredgold’s ideas as to the value of schooners, might have been completed without his assistance occurred to him.  He took a sip from his glass, and then his face softened as the faint sounds of a distant uproar broke upon his ear.