Chapter 89
"What are you saying, Rodd?" cried Morny pa.s.sionately.
"Oh, I mean that we have helped you a bit, but you have been very unlucky since we have been together. Still, if Morny doesn't mind risking it, and doesn't mind putting up with my jokes about _la belle France_, and yours, uncle, about the Emperor Napoleon--"
Morny started, and looked sharply at his father.
"--though by this time," continued Rodd, "I suppose you, sir, have found out that at heart uncle is very fond of the Emperor, and admires him very much--"
"You impudent young scoundrel, how dare you!" growled the doctor.
"Bah!" he muttered to himself, "Temper!" Then turning quickly to the Count, he said almost apologetically, "Don't take any notice. I have spoilt him, sir; I have spoilt him. Look here, my dear sir; I shall very much regret the day when we have to part, for my own sake and for my nephew's, for since he has had the advantage of your son's companions.h.i.+p I have been in hopes that he would acquire something of his refinement and polish, and that it might lead in time to his achieving to somewhat of the carriage of a gentleman. I regret to say that so far he is as rough and boorish as ever. Still, in the hope that every one of his opportunities may not be thrown away, I shall be glad to prolong the intimacy a little longer. There, sir," he snapped out, as he turned sharply upon Rodd, "what do you say to that?"
"It's all right, Morny," said the boy quietly. "Go on polis.h.i.+ng. I'll be more attentive now, uncle."
Morny gave him a quick nod, and turned then to grasp Uncle Paul's hand, while the brig and the schooner went sailing on westward ho!
CHAPTER FIFTY.
THE DOCTOR WILL NOT BELIEVE.
It was about a fortnight later, during which time, in deliciously calm weather, the two vessels had been cruising here and there, to the great satisfaction of the doctor, who was in a high state of delight, for he had been harvesting, as he termed it--bottling, Joe Cross said-- numberless specimens of the strange creatures that swarm upon the surface of the southern Atlantic. And as they had got out so far, the doctor had been sounding Captain Chubb as to the possibility and advisability of making for that strange volcanic island known as Trinidad--not the richly verdant island of the same name that seems as if it had been once a portion of the north-east shoulder of leg-of-mutton-like South America, but the solitary island right away south-east from Bahia, which stands lonely in the ocean, the remains of the great volcanic eminence swept by the terrific seas and tempests that come up from the South Polar Ocean--an island that is the habitat of strange sea-birds, the haunt of fish, and the home and empire of those most hideous of the crustaceans, the land crabs.
Captain Chubb grunted and said he would think about it and consult the chart. As for the brig, Rodd did not banter Morny upon the subject when he came aboard, as he did pretty well every
"And it's my belief, Pickle, that they are going the wrong way to work."
"Why, what would you do, then, uncle?"
"Well, I'll tell you, my boy. He's a very shy bird, and if he knows you are looking for him he won't show. If you and I take up the search I tell you what we'll do; we won't look for him; we'll let him look for us."
"According to that, then, uncle, we are more likely to find him than they are."
"Of course, my boy. Why, haven't we proved it?"
They were down in the laboratory, where Joe Cross had been helping them over the bottling, but he had gone up on deck, the day's task being over, and the skipper now came down, looked and snorted at the fresh regiment of bottles, and made some remark about the doctor seeming out of spirits. But he did not mean it for a joke. Captain Chubb never did joke, for he was one of those men who pa.s.s their lives looking out for squalls, and his allusion was to the emptiness of the doctor's set of kegs.
"Well, it doesn't matter," said the doctor. "Sit down and let's talk.
I have got quite as many preparations in spirits as will last me for years. By the way, did you think any more about Trinidad?"
"Deal," said the skipper shortly, and he gave the fixed table a rap with a roll of paper which he had brought down tucked under his arm. "Here's the chart."
"Well?" said the doctor, wincing, as the skipper unrolled the map on the dresser-like table, and catching up first one specimen bottle and then another used them as paper-weights to keep the chart flat, while he began to operate with his big rough, brown, index finger.
"Here y'are," he said, "and its character written about it: currents, shoals, stormy seas, all kinds of dangers. Bad landing-place; very rocky--place if you go to you ought to stop away."
"Sounds hopeful; eh, Pickle?"
"Oh, but curious, uncle. I should like to go."
"Well, then, you won't," said the skipper gruffly, "because your uncle's too wise to tell me to risk the schooner in such a sea."
"Humph!" grunted the doctor.
"I'll obey your orders, sir, and sail anywhere," continued the skipper, frowning very heavily, "but it's my duty to tell you when you are going wrong."
"Of course," said the doctor, "and as you give the place such a bad character, captain, we'll disappoint Rodd and stay away."
"Right," cried the skipper. Then after drawing a deep breath he looked fiercely at Rodd, and then glared at the doctor, who opened his eyes a little, wonderingly.
"Do you know where you are now?" said the skipper.
"Well, not exactly, only that we have been on ground rich in objects such as I wish to collect, and--excuse me, captain--that bottle--your elbow. I wouldn't have an accident to that for the world."
"Well, then," continued the skipper, very gruffly, as he dabbed his big finger down in the middle of the chart, "you are here."
"Saint Helena," said Rodd, after a quick glance at the chart.
"Right," grunted the skipper. "Now, Dr Robson, am I to speak out, or will you send young Mr Rodd here up on deck first?"
The doctor stared.
"I see no reason for sending my nephew away," he said coldly. "He and I have the fullest confidence in one another."
Rodd, who was standing leaning over the map, moved very slightly, but somehow his left hand stole on to his uncle's shoulder.
"Right, then," said the skipper harshly. "It is my duty, Dr Robson, to tell you that you are in a false position."
"Then, Captain Chubb, as my navigator in whom I have the most perfect trust, it is my duty to tell you that you ought to be on deck sailing us out of it as soon as you can."
"Come down here on purpose," said the skipper shortly, "and here goes.
Now then, doctor, you are such a busy man, and you are so wrapped up in your fads about natural history and that sort of thing, that anybody artful could take you in and cheat you as easy as swallowing a gooseberry."
"Well, you have a nice opinion of me, Captain Chubb!"
"I have, sir--a splendid opinion of you," cried the skipper, "and I'd say it before all the judges in the land--I mean at home--that there was never a more straightforward gentleman made than you. I'd do anything for you."
"Hear, hear! Bravo, Captain Chubb!" cried Rodd. "What about me?"
"You, youngster? Well, you aren't half a bad 'un as boys go. But look here, doctor; time's come for me to speak out. You are a bit too innocent."
"Am I? Well, captain, that's better than being a bit too guilty; eh, Rodd?"
"A deal, uncle. But what's the matter, captain?"
"Why, this here, my lad. I can't stand still no longer and see your uncle being made a cat's-paw of."
"Cat's-paw, eh, captain?" said the doctor. "Let's see, that means to fetch the roasted chestnuts out of the fire. This must apply to you, Master Rodd."
"To me, uncle?" cried the boy, aghast.