"Depends on the frigate, man," answered Flint equably. "A Spanisher I'd fight. A King's ship I'd run from. A Frenchy—I don't know."
"The ship's foul. We couldn't run," said Allardyce. "No, mates, I say we ha' eight hundred thousand pounds, and we'd better be satisfied wi' that. 'Tis a couple o' thousand pounds apiece."
"Aye, aye," came from a number of men. "Disband while the luck's wi' us."
"Disband wi' eight hundred thousand pounds more as good as in our pockets!" exclaimed Flint. "I never heard crazier talk."
"Better live wi' eight hundred thousand pounds than lose a third o' us to win twice that," insisted Allardyce doggedly.
"Not while I ha' aught to say about it!" roared Flint. "Gut me if I'll lose riches we all ha' worked and fought for just to please a handful o' swabs as haven't got the courage to risk a bit more."
There were expressions of opinion both ways upon this; the company was fairly well divided. And Allardyce proceeded to press his advantage.
"If ye talk about losin' riches, cap'n, 'tis you are willing to risk losing the eight hundred thousand pounds we have in hand. Ye'd go for the other treasure and most likely lose what we already have."
Flint squinted reflectively at the yellow-haired man.
"Now that might be a good argyment, Allardyce, if 'twas true," he remarked. "But it ain't. The truth is, I am all for makin' the treasure we have safe before we go cruisin' to the Dead Man's Chest. Treasure is a poison on shipboard if ye ain't got a sure use for it. That's why I had ye leave ashore the lot Murray moved to the blockhouse. It's out o' the ship."