“Humph! I hadn’t thought of that, but it might be worth considering,” answered the captain of the Hildegarde, pulling meditatively at his moustache.
“It would be a dead easy thing to do,” continued Ferguson. “We could sail the schooner over to one o’ those little islands where nobody lives and git ’em to sign letters askin’ their folks to pay up to have ’em released. Why, say, Cap’n, we might make thousands of dollars out of it—a good deal more’n we ever made out o’ the liquor business.”
“Yes, but think of the risk we’d be running. It’s a big crime to kidnap people like that.”
“Well, look at the risk we run gettin’ liquor into the States. Some day those revenue cutters will open fire on us and maybe blow us to pieces.”
“Let’s find out a little more about the boys,” said Captain Gilsen, after a moment’s thought. “If their folks are real well off, it might pay to do as you say. I think the crew will stand for it all right enough, and I know Letts would be all right—he’s been mixed up in half-a-dozen shady transactions.”
“Why, say! just look at what we might make out of it,” cried Ferguson, his eyes glistening greedily. “If we got only ten thousand dollars for the safe delivery of each boy, that would amount to seventy thousand dollars!”
“Humph! If their folks are really wealthy, perhaps we can get two or three times that amount out of ’em, Bill,” returned the captain, tugging on his moustache more fiercely than ever. “If we go into this at all, we might as well do it right. Of course, we’d run a big risk, but a hundred thousand dollars—or maybe two hundred thousand—isn’t to be sneezed at.”