Mark laughed. “That may be,” he agreed. “But the men’s thoughts are already on the pearls. They’ve no mind for whaling, Joel. They’ve no mind for it.”
“I’m doubtful that what you say is true.”
His brother snapped angrily: “Do you call me liar?”
“No,” said Joel gently. “You were never one to lie, Mark.” And Priss, listening, winced at the thing that was like apology in his tone. She heard Mark laugh again, aloud; and she heard the fat chuckle of Jim Finch. Then Mark said:
“It’s well you remember that. So.... Will you go with us; or do we go without you?”
There was a long moment of silence before Joel answered. At last he said: “You’re making to spill blood on the Nathan Ross, Mark. I’ve no mind for that. I’ll not have it—if I can stop it. So ... I’ll consider this matter, to-night, and give you your answer in the morning.”
“You’ll answer now,” Varde said sullenly. “There’s too much words and words.... You’ll answer now.”
“I’ll answer in the morning,” Joel repeated, as though he had not heard Varde. “In the morning. And—for now—I’ll bid you good night, gentlemen.”
Mark chuckled. “There’s one matter, Joel. You’ve two rifles and a pair of revolvers in the lockfast by your cabin there. I’ll take them—to avoid that blood-spilling you mention.”
Priss held her breath, listening.... But Joel said readily: “Yes. Here is the key, Mark. And—I hold you responsible for the weapons.”