"Share——"
Shawn laughed, not musically but almost soundlessly, a thing Ben had not seen him do before. "Under restraint, Ben. Like all good vessels, Artemis, who must now be named Diana, carries irons for malefactors. I have had Chips staple a chain in the floor of the cabin for the leg irons. Unpleasant, but I'm obliged to question Mr. Jenks in certain particulars. Then no doubt he can be released."
"Released to go overside."
"Time, Ben, time. And so you will not serve me?"
"I will not."
"I like that stubborn will. Mother of God, what a power of strength it might be when you're a man!... Ben, those fellas back there, they are servants. Good men—chose 'em with much thought—but servants, cattle. You are not as they."
"If I did you any service aboard this vessel of Mr. Kenny's I'd be no better than they are."
But it seemed impossible for Ben to make Shawn angry. The man continued strangely gentle and reflective in all he said. "I grant I may have done Mr. Kenny some harm, but he's a wealthy man." About to protest that Mr. Kenny would be so no longer with Artemis lost, Ben held his peace. "I do regret it. If you will not serve me—as yet—perhaps you will serve the ketch? A vessel hath many needs, Mr. Cory. An idle or unskillful hand may do her much harm, come tempest or other misfortune. You cannot expect to share in any prizes——"
"Do you fancy I ever would?"
"Shall we hope to soften this Puritan virtue to some degree?"