"No more ain't I," cried the Bo's'n, with vigor. "I'd give the cove a chance, Bill."
"How?" said Bill.
"I'd lash the beggar to a tree and leave him to snuff out for hisself."
Engelhardt laughed aloud in mock gratitude.
"Oh, I ain't partickler as to ways," said Bill. "One way's as good as another for me. There's no bloomin' 'urry, any'ow. The moon ain't up yet, and before we go this beggar's got to tell us things. He heard what we was saying, mates. I seen it in his eye. Didn't you, you swine?"
Engelhardt took no kind of notice.
"Didn't you—you son of a mangy bandicoot?"
Still Engelhardt would have held his tongue; but Bill started kicking him on one side, and Simons on the other; and the pain evoked an answer in a note of shrill defiance.
"I did!" he cried. "I heard every word."