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Captain Chubb looked hard at the speaker, then at Rodd, with the effect of making the boy feel as if he must laugh, for there was something so thoroughly comical in the stolid face, that nothing but the dread of hurting the visitor's feelings kept him from bursting into a roar, especially as, after fixing him with his eyes, the skipper seemed to be taking careful observations, looking up at the ceiling as if in search of clouds, at the carpet for sunken rocks, and then, so to speak, sweeping the offing by slowly gazing at the four walls in turn.
It would have been difficult for a stranger at a first glance to discover the nationality of the ladies. Mrs. Brimmer and her friend Miss Chubb had entirely succumbed to the extreme dishabille of the Spanish toilet not without a certain languid grace on the part of Mrs.
I looked round for Chubb; he was not visible. "I suppose he must have gone on deck," said I. The lieutenant and his men hurried up, Webster and I following. Chubb was conferring with a group of the sailors. The search-light was still flaring away, and I was horrified to see that our formidable neighbour had crept up to within two or three hundred yards.
Captain Chubb made no reply, but stood with his cap in his left hand gazing aft, and then he moved his right arm two or three times, as if forming an imaginary line through the brig's hull. "Did you hear me, captain?" said Rodd eagerly. "Are you sure you have got the sail over the holes?" "No," granted the skipper. "Are you?" "No; but I thought "
I always confound your admirers, my dear are doing now. At least, so says that good Father Esteban." But with the exception of the Alcalde and Miss Chubb, Mrs. Brimmer's words fell on unheeding ears, and Miss Keene did not prejudice the triumph of her own superior attractions by seeming to notice Mrs. Brimmer's innuendo.
In the summer of the year 1894 we were in San Francisco, and rather at a loose end; Webster with a good deal of money in his possession, and spending it as usual in riotous living. We were intimate at this time with a man named Francis Chubb, an Australian by birth, an able seaman, and a very reckless, daring, and resolute character. To him it is owing that I have this tale to tell.
"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."
Chubb went with Sam, who had slipped on his overalls, to look at the new mules tied out behind the barn to long temporary stable poles. The Byrd I could not get from the company down by the spring. Later Mammy had to go down and extract him, fast asleep, from the midst of the largest Belgian family, where he was watched over tenderly by the fierce-eyed woman and the mother of the twins.
"Why, it would break uncle's heart, after all his preparations for the expedition," mused the boy; "and besides it would be so treacherous. But Captain Chubb would not give up, I am sure. I never thought of it before, but he must have thought a good deal more about an accident such as this happening when he was taking such pains to drill and train the men.
"Well, it aren't very," said the skipper; "but we come in the boat to make sure you weren't both drowned, and if you'll risk it I think I can get you round by keeping under the lee of two or three vessels." "What do you say, Rodd?" asked Uncle Paul. "Shall we risk it?" "Oh, I don't think that there'll be much risk, uncle, if Captain Chubb considers it safe. I don't mind going with him."
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