Silk breeches did it. With the last boatload of cargo went the Dutchman. He was made to feel right at home, Quelch seeing his value as a pilot, an interpreter and an extraordinarily cool hand.
The Charles and her tender put out to sea, leaving the little town of Grande Island provender for ten years’ wonder. The Dutch recruit had many talks with the men. And all the time he was thinking the new situation through.
He desired to come right down to a definite business basis. He appraised carefully the accumulated plunder and learned of the money holdings of the quartermaster. It would do very well; he too would have a pair of silk breeches. He put in his claim for a full share of everything, past, present and to come.
This demand became the talk of the ships. It grew and grew until it split the harmony of the floating community. At last in a deserted inlet, where the woods ran darkly down to a silver beach, the whole affair was threshed out.
All hands were trumpeted up by him of the ponderous antique titles. The Dutchman stolidly and unmistakably stated his terms. Some spoke in favor of them, others against; and at last a vote for and against was taken. The majority determined that the Dutchman was not entitled to a full share.
He turned a quid of tobacco about in his hairy cheek and gazed up at the sky. He had a trump card to play, and a very firm nerve to cast it. He said his conditions would be met or he would inform against them all. Just whom he would inform is not apparent; nor is it clear what damage an informer could do to people who robbed right under the guns of forts, and took ships from their anchor within a stone’s throw of town.
This Dutchman was either excessively stupid or a man of extraordinary courage. As a sailor he must have seen that the kind of folk he was dealing with were neither timid nor tender; never in all his sea-going years had he looked right in the eyes of just so hard an aggregation as he did then. Yet he stands there quite alone and backs up his claim not by prayer but by threat. It is one of the most curious incidents of the sea.
Of course, a chap like this must be put out of the way. Methods and means were discussed at this same meeting, and once again a vote was taken—this time as to what they should do with the Dutchman. The majority decreed that he should be marooned then and here.
Mr. Dutchman was ordered over the side and into the boat. [He was rowed ashore and left with a gun, some powder and shot.] He gazed stolidly at the departing boat, his hands deep in his canvas pockets, the twist of tobacco turning around in his cheek. Fair enough; if they couldn’t accept a business proposition, why, he couldn’t do business with them, and that was all there was to it.
Perhaps a lucky man at that. He didn’t get a pair of silk breeches, but neither did he get a hemp necktie.