Morrell twisted free, half angry. “I—overheard it, sir. Is it true?”
“No,” said Joel. “We’re a whaler, and we stick to our trade.”
Dick lifted both hands, in a gesture almost pleading. “But it would be so simple, sir....”
“Keep the whole matter quiet, Morrell,” Joel told him. “I do not wish the men to know of it. And if you hear any further talk, report it to me.”
Morrell’s eyes were sulky. He said slowly: “Yes, sir.” The set of his shoulders, as he stalked forward, seemed to Joel defiant....
Within the week, the whole ship knew the story. Old Aaron Burnham, repairing a bunk in the fo’c’s’le, heard the men whispering the thing among themselves. “Tongues hissing like little serpents, sir,” he told Joel, in the cabin that night. “All of pearls, and women, and the like.... And a shine in their eyes....”
“Thanks, Aaron,” Joel said. “I’m sorry the men know....”
“Aye, they know. Be sure of that,” Aaron repeated, with bobbing head. “And they’re roused by what they know. Some say you’re going after the pearls, and aim to fraud them of their lay. And some say you’re a mad fool that will not go....”
Joel’s fist, on the table, softly clenched. “What else?” he asked.
Aaron watched him sidewise. “There was a whisper that you might be made to go....”