"S—south America?"
"South America I said! They buy men for ten pounds apiece, to work 'em in the copper-mines. Think of it, hey! Workin' there year in, year out, and never see this place any more! Lovely prospect, ain't it? Like the idea?"
"N—no," said Redisham, to whom the idea did not appeal in the remotest way.
"Gr-r-rr! Of course you don't! But if your old man don't pay up, well—we'll have to get our tenner from you. Won't we, Snyder?"
"Sure," said Snyder. "But we'd only get eight for this goat—he's all flabby, no muscle, no chest, no nothink! Jest skin an' bone, that's all he is! Feel him!"
He did so, with his boot.
"That's so," agreed the chief. "He's just the spit of that bloke we shipped last summer—the bloke that pegged out on the voyage. Remember?"
"You bet," answered Snyder tersely. "They had to sling him overboard, and the sharks got the captain's tenner-worth! Just as well we got the money first, hey, mates?"
The mates all responded with a low, sinister laugh that made Redisham's blood run cold.
"See here," he pleaded. "Let me g-go!"