“On board the West Wind?” echoed Humphrey amazed. “I give you my word that it is not here.”
“The tree is on this ship,” insisted the other steadily. “The Chinaman heard somehow of our coming and departed, treasure and all; he was seen fleeing through the town; he was seen making his way to this vessel. And the Pasha of Tripoli desires the little pine tree!”
There was a pause, but Humphrey said nothing. The dusky visitor shrugged his shoulders and slipped one sleek hand within his satin robe.
“The American Captain wishes further persuasion,” he said with a sly grin. “I have something here for himself alone, which will perhaps make him more generous.”
He drew out a handful of gold coins and laid them upon the table, looked at Humphrey narrowly and, seeing no signs of yielding, sighed deeply and drew out another and another. He piled them up in little shining heaps and stood gazing, with an expectant smile across at the American. But, since Humphrey did not put out a hand to take them he broke forth petulantly—
“In the name of the Prophet, is not that enough? You grasping Yankees would have everything! These are not African coins, man, but good English sovereigns, French louis d’or, Spanish doubloons such as you can spend like water anywhere you go. And all in exchange for one small thing upon which my master has set his heart. Come, you drive a hard bargain.”
“I drive no bargain for what does not belong to me, to be paid for in stolen coin,” Humphrey answered hotly. “Do you think that I do not know that your pirate vessels have brought in this gold; that, for each of those heaps of coin, there has probably been a good ship sent to the bottom, English, French or Spanish? Have you not learned once what America thinks of piracy?”
The fat man shrugged his shoulders again.
“America is a forgetful land, and far away,” he commented drily. “News carries thither slowly and judgment comes even slower back again. It is twenty years since your country fought with mine; we believe America is ceasing to watch us. The Atlantic is a broad and windy sea!”
“You do not know,” the young officer replied slowly, “that there is a wise man in my country, my comrade and dear friend, who has learned how to make the Atlantic a thousand miles less broad. He built this ship with which we have shortened the voyage by four days and will, when we set sail again, lessen it by more than that. Your pirate craft are swift but Yankee wits are swifter and presently your vessels will bring back a tale—for every sea-coast will ring with it—that Jonathan Adams’ ship the West Wind has crossed the ocean in eighteen days.”