"Because we should have to victual again before going round to the South Sea, and we want no one to get wind of our intent before we're ready to fly our colors. It would be folly to spoil the venture for the sake of a week or two. Besides, we know not how the men will take it."
"How do we stand for men?" asks Parsons, in his grumbling tone again.
"Why, there's Black, and Jarvis, and Kelly, and all those of our old crew who served with us before—they may be depended on."
"That's thirteen men, and we two make fifteen, all told."
"These men, though they pretend to believe that we are going up the Orinoco after a mare's next, are not such fools as to think that I design to end my days there."
"Ay!" says Parsons with a laugh, setting down his cup again. "Nor would they have been fools enough to engage on any such silly venture unless they felt sure something better was to come of it. Well, there's fifteen—go on."
"Of the rest there's a score as desperate follows as ever trod a deck, and ripe for any mischief."
"Would to Heaven we could have raked up more like them."
"The rest are fools; but sturdy, good seamen, for all that."
Here I was reminded of what I had previously remarked—viz., that there were two sorts of men in our crew and no third. One set were reckless, dare-devil, cursing rascals, and the other were as simple-minded as any children; but, as Rodrigues, said every one a hale, good seaman. And this was due to the cunning of Rodrigues, who, by reason of his knowing the parts to which we were bound, had been entrusted to choose a crew likely for the purpose.