Jimmy—[Eagerly.] I fix um, Captain, they no tell! [Bartlett doesn’t answer, but stares at the treasure. Horne makes violent motions to Jimmy to go. The Islander stares at his master’s face. Then, seeming to read the direct command there, he grunts with satisfaction, and pulling his knife from it’s sheath, he goes stealthily off left. Cates raises himself on his haunches to watch the Islander’s movements. Horne and Bartlett sit still in a strained immobility, their eyes on the chest.]
Cates—[In an excited whisper.] I see ’em! They’re sittin’ with their backs this way! [A slight pause.] There’s Jimmy. He’s crawlin’ on his hands behind ’em. They don’t notice—he’s right behind—almost atop o’ them. [A pause. Cates gives a fiendish grunt.] Ugh! [Butler’s muffled cry comes from the left.] Right in the middle of the back! The cook’s done! The boy’s runnin’! [There is a succession of quick screams from the boy, the padding of feet running toward them, the fall of a body, and the boy’s dying groan.]
Horne—[With satisfaction.] It’s done, sir!
Bartlett—[Slowly.] I spoke no word, remember that, Silas Horne!
Horne—[Cunningly.] Nor me neither, sir. Jimmy took it on himself. If blame there is—and who’d blame him for it?—it’s on him.
Bartlett—[Gloomily.] I spoke no word! [Jimmy returns noiselessly from the left.]
Jimmy—[Grinning with savage pride.] I fix um fella plenty, Captain. They no tell. They no open mouth plenty too much!
Cates—[Maudlinly.] You’re a man, Jimmy—a man with guts to him—even if you’re a—— [He babbles incoherently.]
Jimmy—[As the Captain does not look at him.] I go climb fella tree, Captain? I make look for schooner?
Bartlett—[Rousing himself with an effort.] Yes—go up. [The Islander climbs the tree.]