“Oh, yes, of course we must place a limit; say ten times the value of the ship. Make as good a bargain as you can. Part of the arrangement must be that Sparling & Bilge write a letter to the captain, telling him that they have sold the boat, that it belongs to me, and that they have transferred to me whatever contract they made with him, the officers and the crew; that I will be responsible hereafter for the pay of the same. Then find out what can be done toward changing the name of the steamer. I wish to paint out the word _Rajah_ and substitute, out of compliment to you, the name _Blue Peter_. Blue Peter means the flag of that color with a white square which is run up to the masthead when the ship is about to sail, and I doubt not the Blue Peter was flying over Peter Mackeller as he lay in the hold. Please learn if we can change the name legally, and if we cannot, why, we’ll see what can be done when the ship is in our possession. I am not going to indulge in any amateur piracy, so I expect you to look sharply after the legal points of the transfer. Get the assistance of the best marine lawyer there is in Southampton. Do you understand what I mean?” “Yes, my lord, and I will carry out your instructions to the letter. I think I see what you intend to do.” “I am the most transparent of men, Mackeller. There’s no subtlety about me, so you can gain little credit by fathoming my plans. We will suppose that two days are required to put me in possession of the _Rajah_. Return then to London, pack your trunk, bid good-by to all your friends, and say nothing to them of what you have done, or what you intend to do, what you guess, or what you know, not even to your father, whom I have made president of the company, because I dislike unnecessary publicity, and desire to keep my name in the shade of that modest obscurity which has always enveloped it. Buy anything you think you may require for the voyage, and ship your dunnage to Plymouth, addressed, care of the yacht, _The Woman in White_. Then engage a berth in the sleeping car on the 9.50 Penzance express, Great Western Railway, first-class fare, and five shillings extra for your stateroom, and don’t forget to charge it to me. At the unholy hour of 6.49 in the morning, you will arrive at Redruth in Cornwall, where you can indulge in an early breakfast, which you seem to delight in. In the environs of that village you will find a little property which is owned by me, and on that bit of land is an abandoned copper mine with a smelting furnace. I think the smelting apparatus is in reasonably good order, but I doubt if any of the other appurtenances of the mine are of much value. Now, having gone into the mining business, I intend to work this property for all it’s worth, and I propose that you spend a day or two getting a suitable manager, rigging up windlasses, and that sort of thing, so that we will see whether there is more money in copper to-day than was the case when the mine