"No."

"Windjammer?"

"Yes."

Leonard nodded at his painting. "Fishing smack, I'll bet."

The cross-questioning was interrupted by a raucous voice overhead, and
both boys looked up to see the mate's thick torso hanging over the rail.
He was shaking his fist at the tall Englishman.

"W'ot you think we brought you along for?" he bawled savagely. "To give
lectures? If you don't paint and quit blowin', you win' bag, I'll ship
you at Penzance!"

Caradoc's face went white, leaving threadlike purple veins showing on
nose and cheeks. "I'm willing to do my duty," he said with a quiver in
his tone. He glanced at his empty paint bucket. "If I'm to work, bring
me paint--I'm out!"

Caradoc seemed to be able to make the mate madder and do it quicker than
anyone else.

"Paint! Bring you paint!" roared Malone, apoplectic. "Git out an' git
your paint, or I'll put a longer, uglier head than that on your
shoulders."

Caradoc gave a shrug, stooped for the bucket, then began composedly