"Wi' the crew all shoutin' for disbandment? Allardyce talkin' of goin' home tomorrow? I ha' seen ye handle some bad times, John Flint, but you're no Andrew Murray!"
The gibe annoyed Flint. His face turned blue, as it did when his temper was fanned or he was in liquor.
"Watch me," he snapped. "I'll learn 'em a few things yet. No Andrew Murray! Maybe not. But I ha' my own way, Bill. Aye, Flint's way! And it ain't so bad."
He suddenly remembered us.
"Keep your mouths shut, d'ye hear? No sneakin' up to John Silver or any one else. And as for you, my wench—" he frowned at Moira—"keep under cover, for your own sake as well as mine. This is a rough ship, a pirate ship, and——"
"Don't ye worry about Misthress O'Donnell," said Darby loyally. "I'll see to her."
"Oh, ye will!"
Flint laughed.
"You're beginning young, Darby. Gut me, what a lad! Well, you keep her out o' harm's way, and when we divide the treasure maybe there'll be an extry allowance for ye. How'd ye like to have her, eh?"
"She'll be better worth the havin' than all the treasure there is," flashed Darby. "And do ye be mindin' what I'm afther tellin' ye, Cap'n Flint. If harm comes to her, or sorrow into the heart of her, 'twill be the end o' your luck—aye, lucky ye'll be do ye come off wi' a neck ye can breathe through."