"A Skipper!" exclaimed the children.

"Yes, they calls me a Skipper," said he, "because I skips."

"But I thought a Skipper was a kind of Captain or something," said Marjorie.

"Quite right, my little dear; I'm Captain of the tidiest craft ye ever set eyes on. She's lying out yonder. Will ye come and have a look at her?"

"Oh, yes, please," said d.i.c.k, delightedly; "and perhaps you can tell us the way to get to England?"

"To be sure I can," said the Skipper. "There are my men," he said, proudly, as they came to an open s.p.a.ce, where a dozen or more sailors, of all ages, sat at spinning wheels, working industriously.

"Whatever are they doing?" inquired Marjorie, curiously.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Each sailor was spinning a yarn."]

"Spinning yarns," explained the Skipper; "each sailor is spinning a yarn--they always do that in their spare time, you know. Here, Bill," he called out to one of the sailors, who answered, "Aye, aye, Sir," and touched his forelock. "Bring some of your yarn here, and show this young lady."

The man said, "Aye, aye, Sir," again, and came forward with some coa.r.s.e brown worsted.

"This," said the Skipper, "is the toughest yarn you will find anywhere.

We are celebrated for it here."

CHAPTER XII.

THE ARCHaeOPTERYX.

"But we always thought----" began Marjorie--

"That when people spoke of a sailor 'spinning a yarn,' they meant telling a story," finished d.i.c.k.

"Oh! oh! how _could_ you think such a thing," said the sailors, indignantly. "Sailors always tell the truth; don't they, Skipper?"

The Skipper winked at d.i.c.k with one eye, and answered, guardedly, "Ahem!

I _have_ heard a sailor speak the truth, certainly, but----"

"Let's change the subject," said the sailors, getting up from their wheels. "Isn't it nearly time for us to be starting on another voyage?"

"When we get some pa.s.sengers, it will be," responded the Skipper, gruffly. "By-the-bye," he added, turning to the children; "_you_ want to go somewhere or another, don't you?"

"Yes, to England," said d.i.c.k, eagerly. "Do you go there, please?"

"H'm! Never heard of the place as I knows of," said the Skipper, scratching his head. "We might cruise about till we come across it, if you like, though."

"Never heard of England!" exclaimed d.i.c.k.

"No," said the Skipper, unconcernedly. "I never had no time to study goggerfy, I didn't, so there's lots of places I don't know, no more than the Man in the Moon."

"But don't you find it very awkward?" cried the children; "however do you know how to go from one place to another?"

"We don't know," said the Skipper, laughing; "that's just the fun of the thing. We get into our ship, and just go on and on till we come to somewhere or another, and then we land, you know. It's much the best way, and saves such a lot of bother."

"I am afraid we should be a long while reaching England that way,"

remarked d.i.c.k, dubiously.

"Oh, I don't know," said the Skipper, "we might drop across it the first time, you know. You see, it's not much use knowing in which direction it lies, because, once you get out to sea, there are no roads and things, so one way is as good as another."

"But don't you use a compa.s.s?" asked Marjorie.

"What's that, Miss?" asked the Skipper.

"Why, a little thing that always points to the North," said Marjorie.

"Blessed if I know, Miss," said the Skipper, good-naturedly. "Here, Bill," he called to one of the sailors, "do we use a little thing that always points to the North?"

"Not as I knows on," answered the man, sulkily. "We ain't got none of them newfangled things, and don't want 'em."

"Dear me, what a very odd ship yours must be," said d.i.c.k. "Is it a steamer, or a sailing vessel, please?"

"Oh, it's partly a sailing vessel and partly a rowing boat," said the Skipper. "She's a very fine ship," he added, proudly, "come and have a look at her."

The children followed him to a kind of rough harbor, where a most extraordinary craft was moored. She looked very like a picture which all the children remembered having seen in an old book at home, and although there was a small sail, a number of gaily-painted paddles sticking through the side of the huge boat, showed that, as the Skipper had said, rowing played a very important part in moving it along.

"What a dear old-fashioned thing," exclaimed Marjorie, directly she saw it.

The Skipper looked rather hurt. "It isn't more than a thousand years old," he remarked.

"Well, that's an awful long time for a ship to last, isn't it?" said Marjorie, pleasantly.

"Our family is much older than that," chimed in the Dodo, consequentially. "We date back to----"

"Oh, please don't go into ancient history," said the Skipper, "I can't bear it; it reminds me so of my younger days, when I was first learning to skip."

"What _do_ you mean?" asked the children.

"Why, when I was a little boy, you know," explained the Skipper, "I used to skip all the dry parts of a book--and the pages and pages I used to skip of my ancient history you'd never believe. It was that which decided my parents upon making me a Skipper. 'He'll never do for anything else,' they used to say?"

"Well, are you going aboard or not?" he added, "because, if so, we ought to be starting."

"Oh, yes, let's go," pleaded Marjorie, "we might just as well be on board as at this place, you know, and we shall, at any rate, be going somewhere, and perhaps we shall find some one who knows the way to England on the sea."

So the children and the Dodo went aboard, and the Skipper blew a little whistle, which he wore tied around his neck by a white cord, and the sailors all came running up, bringing their spinning wheels, which they packed away at the bow of the vessel, and then settled themselves down at the oars. At the other end was a cosy little cabin, and above it a small deck, upon which the little pa.s.sengers made themselves quite comfortable, and the Captain ordered the scales to be brought up from below.

"What are they for?" asked d.i.c.k, who, boy-like, always wanted to know the reason for everything.