"Bosh!" ejaculated Noah, angrily. "Strip your old tub down to a flying
balloon-jib and a marline-spike, and ballast the Ark with elephants until
every inch of her reeked with ivory and peanuts, and she'd outfoot you on
every leg, in a cyclone or a zephyr. Give me the Ark and a breeze, and
your House-boat wouldn't be within hailing distance of her five minutes
after the start if she had 40,000 square yards of canvas spread before a
gale."

"This discussion is waxing very unprofitable," observed Confucius. "If
these gentlemen cannot be made to confine themselves to the subject that
is agitating this body, I move we call in the authorities and have them
confined in the bottomless pit."

"I did not precipitate the quarrel," said Noah. "I was merely trying to
assist our friend on the string-piece. I was going to say that as the Ark
was probably a hundred times faster than Sir Christopher Wren's--tub,
which he himself says can take care of all the wash of the excursion
boats, thereby becoming on his own admission a wash-tub--"

"Order! order!" cried Sir Christopher.

"I was going to say that this wash-tub could be overhauled by a launch or
any other craft with a speed of thirty knots a month," continued Noah,
ignoring the interruption.

"Took him forty days to get to Mount Ararat!" sneered Sir Christopher.

"Well, your boat would have got there two weeks sooner, I'll admit,"
retorted Noah, "if she'd sprung a leak at the right time."