"
"You leave that to Smith," said the captain, impatiently. "The Seabird
sails on Friday morning's tide. Tell Smith I'll arrange to meet my son
here on Thursday night, and that he must have some liquor for us and a
fly waiting on the beach."
Mr. Wilks wriggled: "But what about signing on, sir?" he inquired.
"He won't sign on," said the captain, "he'll be a stowaway. Smith must
get him smuggled aboard, and bribe the hands to let him lie hidden in the
fo'c's'le. The Seabird won't put back to put him ashore. Here is five
pounds; give Smith two or three now, and the remainder when the job is
done."
The steward took the money reluctantly and, plucking up his courage,
looked his old master in the face.
"It's a 'ard life afore the mast, sir," he said, slowly.
"Rubbish!" was the reply. "It'll make a man of him. Besides, what's it
got to do with you?"
"I don't care about the job, sir," said Mr. Wilks, bravely.
"What's that got to do with it?" demanded the other, frowning. "You go
and fix it up with Nathan Smith as soon as possible."
Mr. Wilks shuffled his feet and strove to remind himself that he was a
gentleman of independent means, and could please himself.
"I've known 'im since he was a baby," he murmured, defiantly.
"I don't want to hear anything more from you, Wilks," said the captain,
in a hard voice.
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