He was no sailor himself, knew absolutely nothing about the navigation
of his yacht, though he sometimes pretended to sail her; and he had no
power to judge of his skipper's capacity or his men's seamanship. He had
engaged the captain wholly on the strength of the man's reputation,
guaranteed by certain certificates which seemed to mean a great deal.
But after all such certificates might mean very little--such a
reputation might be no real guarantee. The sailors had been engaged by
the captain, and their ruddy faces and thoroughly British appearence,
the exquisite cleanliness which they maintained in every detail of the
yacht, had seemed to Mr. Smithson the perfection of seamanship.
But it was not the less true that the cleanest of yachts, with deck of
spotless whiteness, sails of unsullied purity, brasses shining and
sparkling like gold fresh from the goldsmith's, might be spiked upon a
rock, or might founder on a sand-bank, or heel over under too much
canvas. Mr. Smithson was inclined to suspect any proposition of
Montesma's; yet he was not the less disturbed in mind by the assertion.
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