"He's main bad, Flint is."
Silver thrust a thumb over his shoulder.
"Won't hardly last till mornin', Bill says."
"Oh, poor soul!" exclaimed Moira. "And him with so much wickedness to answer for! I am thinking he will have a great need of prayers, so if you will be after taking me below, Bob——"
"Bide a moment, mistress," interrupted Silver. "Ha' ye seen aught o' the map, Master Ormerod?"
"No," I answered briefly. "And I'll not be involved in your quarrels aboard this hell-ship."
"Easy, easy," he admonished me. "Rough words won't further ye, my gentleman. Here's me as will be glad to stand your friend, and you know best whether you need a friend. Figger it out for yourselves. Flint's as good as dead. Who comes a'ter him—me or Bill Bones? Which o' us would ye plump for? Bill, he's a desp'rate villain—and has his fish-eyes on the maid here.
"Long John, he wants treasure and a clean path home. I'm none o' your rum-swiggers and tavern-brawlers, gentlemen. I ha' had eddication, and I aims to get more. Give me a million and a half pounds to divvy, and I'll sack the old Walrus and ride to Parlyment in my coach, I will."
"What has that to do with us?" I demanded.
He winked.