The Hermit Hunter of the Wilds by Gordon Stables

The _'Liza Ann_ was about as strange-looking a craft as ever Tom had clapped eyes upon. He was not well enough yet to be hypercritical; but for all that he could not resist the temptation of making his boatman pull right round and round her at some distance away, so that he might see her from every point of the compass.

She lay like a duck on the water, there was no doubts about that; in fact she had about the same comparative breadth of beam that a duck possesses, the same lowness of free-board, and the same depth or rather absence of depth of hull. Her masts, two in all, were set in with a pretty, though rather old-fashioned rake. She was brig-rigged, though, considering her length, she might easily have been a barque. Her spars were not of great height, and her yards were very long. There was no mistake about it, she could take a good spread of canvas. Well, she was painted dark green all over; picked out as to ports with a lighter green, and her bulwarks inside were also light green.

Tom smiled to himself as he sized her up. Barnaby Blunt saw that smile. He was probably six hundred yards away at the time, and standing on the quarter-deck of his own ship; but he had eyes like a hawk, and "barnacles," as he called the lorgnettes that hung in a patent leather case by his side, to aid those eyes.

"That Britisher is a-sizing of my ship up," he said to Pebbles his mate. "Britishers don't know everything. I'll talk to him."

The Yankee was politeness itself to his passenger. He had a seat all ready for him on deck under a snow-white awning, a delightfully easy deck chair, in which one might sleep as comfortably as in a hammock, or dream without sleeping.

The mate hastened to assist Tom on board, but the captain was before him.

"With all due deference to you, Mr. Pebbles," he said, "I'm going to do everything for our guest with my own hands. If my wife was on board I'd turn him over to her. As she ain't, I does the honours. Take my arm, young man. You ain't so strong as you think. You're as shaky as an old chimney-pot."

"Thank you," said Tom; "you really are good."

"I'd do the same for a nigger, sirr, if he were as shaky as you; and if my wife were on board, she'd do more. Now, sit down there; I'm not going to pester you with any extra attentions. Whatever you needs you hollers for."

"I don't think," said Tom, "I'll have to holler for anything. This chair is delightful, and the awning is a happy thought."

"We don't sail before to-morrow morning, cause I've more stores to get off. And now, as we don't dine for an hour yet, suppose we have a drink. What shall it be -- wine, old rye, a cup o' coffee, or a cock-tail?"

"I'd prefer coffee, I think; but isn't it rather hot?"

"O, bless your innocence, we'll have it iced! Ginger Brandy, where are you?"

A bullet-headed nigger boy, dressed in white calico, with face and calves as black as pitch, rushed up.

"Heeh I is, sah," he said.

"Mr. Talisker, here's your slave. His name is Ginger Brandy. If he irritates you, don't hit him over the back with a capstan-bar, 'cause you'll break the bar. Don't heave a cocoa-nut at his head, 'cause you'll damage the cocoa-nut. Just get up and toe his shins. Now, Ginger Brandy, bring the ice, and the coffee, and the lemons, and my pipe, and a bundle of smokes. Skedaddle!"

Ginger skedaddled quickly, brought out a little table from the raised poop, spread a white cloth, and in two minutes more had placed thereon two cups of fragrant coffee, with lumps of clear ice floating in each. And when Tom lit his cigar after drinking half of the coffee, Ginger Brandy took his stand beside his chair with a huge fan, and our hero felt as happy and comfortable as ever he had done in his life.

The Yankee's pipe stood on deck, an immense hubble-bubble; the smoke, which passed through iced-water, being conducted to his lips by means of a tube that seemed yards in length. Sitting there in his rocker, with his long legs dangling over the bulwarks and his eyes half closed, Barnaby Blunt looked the quintessence of enjoyment.

"And what d'ye think o' my little yacht, sirr," he drawled at last. "Mind ye, I twigged you sizing her up. I see'd your smile; yes, sirr, I think I heard it."

"Well," said Tom, "to tell you the truth, I never saw so strange a craft before; and had I met her at sea, I shouldn't have been able to say what was her nationality."