“If anything happens to the Grampus,” said Bob, “you’ll be held responsible.”
“We’re willin’. We went into this with our eyes wide open. First thing we did was to shut both doors of that room and lock ’em; then we heaved up the anchors as quiet as we could, and you and Dick were so sound asleep you didn’t hear a thing. It’s two in the morning now, and we’re well down the coast—so far down that we might as well see this thing through as to put back. Don’t you think so?”
“It doesn’t appear to make much difference what I think,” said Bob grimly.
“Well, not a terrible sight,” went on Gaines, “only, as I said, we’d rather have your good will than your bad.”
“How did you work this? How did the don get back?”
“He stood off and on in the sailboat. As soon as you were asleep, Clackett and I dickered with him, and he came aboard.”
“I haven’t much of an opinion of Don Ramon Ortega!” exclaimed Bob. “Any man who will hire a crew to disobey orders has a crooked strain in him somewhere.”
“We’re doin’ this for humanity,” asserted Gaines, in a highly virtuous tone.
“Bosh,” scoffed Bob. “You’re doing it for five thousand two hundred and fifty dollars—which you won’t get.”