"Men," he cried in his thin, windy voice, "yonder's the moon."
The moon indeed was there. There was no reason to gainsay him. He stood with it over his left shoulder and extended his arms before him, one pointing somewhat to the right, the other to the left. "The right hand is the right way," he cried, "but the left we'll never leave."
We stared at the man and wondered if he were mad.
"No," he said, smiling at our puzzled glances, "we'll never leave the left."
"Belay that talk," said one of the men sharply. "Ye'll have to steer a clearer course than that if you want us to follow you."
Blodgett smiled. "The course is clear," he replied. "Yonder"—he waved his right hand—"is Singapore and the Chinese Sea and Whampoa. It's the right course. Our orders is for that course. Our cargo is for that course. It's the course that will make money for the owners. It's the right—you understand?—my right hand and the right course according to orders. But yonder"—this time he waved his left hand—"is the course that won't be left. And yet it's the left you know—my left hand."
He explained his feeble little joke with an air of pride.
"Why won't it be left?" the gruff seaman demanded.
"Because," said Blodgett, "we ain't going to leave it. There's gold there and no end of treasure. Do you suppose Captain Falk is going to leave it all for some one else to get? He's going to sail through Malacca Strait and across the Bay of Bengal to Calcutta. That's what he's going to do. I've been in India myself and seen the heaps of gold lying on the ground by the money-changer's door and no body watching it but a sleepy Gentoo."
"But what's this treasure you're talking about," some one asked.