“What’s that? Another harpoon?” cried Kett. “Did we use two, boys?” and he turned to the group of his men.
“No, only one,” somebody answered.
“This has a brand on it too,” went on Bob’s father. He held the lantern nearer. “The Flying Fish” he read as he saw the burned letters. “Guess that was in some time before your iron, Lowden, for it’s pretty well worn by sea water. There’s a prior claim to this whale, and as long as no one is here from the Flying Fish this prize belongs to the boys that towed it in. If you don’t agree with that jest say so, an’ we’ll go to law about it. But I know my rights, and these boys will get theirs.”
“That’s right!” cried several in the crowd.
“The whale belongs to the boys.”
Jack Kett and Bill Lowden looked at each other. This was something for which they had not bargained. There was a murmur among their men.
“We—we didn’t know the whale had been struck before,” admitted Bill.
“That’s right,” chimed in his partner. “We only want what’s fair,” he went on, in more conciliatory tone than at first.
“That’s the way to talk,” commented Captain Trent. “I admit you have some claim on the whale, for your iron helped to kill it. The law gives you a tenth part, after other parties have landed the prize, and I’ll see that you get it. Now if it’s settled you fellows can go, and I’ll notify you when the money’s ready.”
“All right,” assented Bill, after a conference with his partner and men. “I guess it’s the best we can get out of it. But it’s hard to lose a prize when you think you’re got it. I’m not blaming you boys,” he added quickly, “for I guess you had a hard pull with it. Come on, men, we’ll leave our case with Captain Trent.”