“There's something wrong!” exclaimed Moran; “she's settling for'ard.” Hoang hailed the schooner a second time.
“We're still settling,” called Wilbur from the bows, “what's the matter?”
“Matter that she's taking water,” answered Moran wrathfully. “She's started something below, what with all that lifting and dancing and tricing up.”
Wilbur ran back to the quarterdeck.
“This is a bad fix,” he said to Moran. “Those chaps are coming aboard again. They're on to something, and, of course, at just this moment she begins to leak.”
“They are after that ambergris,” said Moran between her teeth. “Smelled it, of course—the swine!”
“Ambergris?”
“The stuff we found in the whale. That's ambergris.”
“Well?”
“Well!” shouted Moran, exasperated. “Do you know that we have found a lump that will weigh close to 250 pounds, and do you know that ambergris is selling in San Francisco at $40 an ounce? Do you know that we have picked up nearly $150,000 right out here in the ocean and are in a fair way to lose it all?”