"What in thunder is he telling about?" demanded Mr. Job.
"Only this, sir," answered Captain Cornelisz, smiling very sweet, and pulling out his licence from his side-pocket, he read, "'And the said vessel has our protection while bearing any flag except the French, and notwithstanding the documents accompanying the said vessel and cargo may represent the same to be destined to any neutral or hostile port, or to whomsoever such property may appear to belong.' The wording you see, sir, is very particular, and under the circumstances I can't say less than six hundred pounds; but, of course, if you oblige me to take it to the courts, there's your papers to be considered, which may raise the question of piracy."
Just an hour later, when Mr. Job had returned to shore in the devil's own temper to call a hasty meeting of his shareholders—and Captain Hewitt along with him, with his tail between his Legs—Captain Cornelisz raised the trap of the lazarette.
"I'm thinking a little fresh air's no more than you deserve," said he.
"But where are we, in this world?" asked Jacka.
"So well as I can learn, 'tis a place called Polperro."
Jacka chuckled. "Seen anything of a party called Job?"
"He's to bring me six hundred pounds before morning," answered the
Dutchman, lighting his pipe. "And see here—I'm a fair-dealin' man, and
I own I owe you a good twenty of it. You shall have it when you leave
the ship, and I'll chance making it right with the owners."
"Very good of you, to be sure," allowed Jacka.
"But that isn't all. I owe you something on my own account, and if there's any small favour I can do you, in reason—"