Horne—[Who is evidently waiting for the Captain to my something—after a pause, glancing at him uneasily.] I’d best be gettin’ back aboard the schooner, sir. [Receiving no answer he starts for the door on the left.]
Bartlett—[Rousing himself with an effort.] Wait. [After a pause.] The full tide’s at dawn tomorrow, ye said?
Horne—Yes, sir.
Bartlett—They know we’ll be sailin’ then, don’t they—Cates and Jimmy?
Horne—Yes, sir. They’re all ready. Oh, Cates and Jimmy’ll be glad o’ the word—and me, too, sir. [With a greedy grin.] It’s all we’ve been talkin’ of since ye brought us down here—diggin’ up the gold!
Bartlett—[Passionately.] Aye, the gold! We’ll have it before long, now, I reckon. That schooner—the way we’ve fitted her up—she’d take a man safe to the Pole and back! We’ll drop anchor here with the chest on board in six months, unless—— [Hesitates.]
Horne—[Uneasily.] What, sir?
Bartlett—[Brusquely.] The weather, ye fool! Can ye take count before o’ storms an’ calms?
Horne—We’ll trust to luck for that. [Glancing at the Captain curiously.] And speakin’ o’ luck, sir—the schooner ain’t been christened yet.
Bartlett—[Betraying a sudden, fierce determination.] She will be!