"I'll lay ye a castellano there was a whole watch awake on her the night long," said the first speaker.
A whistle shrilled, and the gruff voice of Saunders reached us quite distinctly ordering the topmen aloft.
"There they go, Jemmy," returned the second man. "We'll be free o' the swabs in another glass."
"And good riddance, says I," declared Jemmy, spitting into the scuppers.
I saw where they were then, leaning against the starboard poop-ladder and peering overside at the vague hull of the James. Peter's little eyes had identified them, too, and his fingers sank into the flesh of my arm, signaling me to stay where I was. He glided past me on to the deck, his body ghostly in the gloom.
"I'm —— if I can see as why we has to keep our peepers open," growled the second man.
"'Tain't long now till morning," replied Jemmy. "What d'ye s'y to a dash o' rum, matey?"
He half-turned, and saw Peter's enormous white bulk hovering over him, and his teeth gleamed as he opened his mouth involuntarily to scream.
"I don't care if—" the second man said.
The Dutchman leaped, and his two arms whipped out. Jemmy's scream died in a guttural cough. Peter grappled the throat of each. He held them poised for a moment, then brought their heads together with an odd hollow smack like the cracking of egg-shells. They collapsed inert on the deck.