"All buncombe. You been readin' too many Manila newspapers."
"Yes, and I see a few things on deck, too, that ain't got nothin' to do with newspapers. Petrak, Buckrow, and the long lime-juicer was all pretty thick when no one was lookin' at 'em. And they don't let on to know each other, neither. Askin' one another their names when I was standin' by, and soon as my back was turned thick as flies at a molasses-barrel, sneakin' round and whisperin'.
"'Who's the red chap?' asks Long Jim from Buckrow, when he knows I can hear.
"'Says he's out of a collier,' says Buckrow, speakin' loud a purpose so I can hear.
"The next I know, cap'n, Reddy was tellin' Long Jim that Buckrow never paid him that two bob for a round of drinks in the Flagship Bar before the cuttin'. Don't that sound funny? Then when Petrak takes the wheel I asks him if he knows Long Jim, and he says not afore he come aboard, and Buckrow says the same.
"They all lied; and ye remember how Buckrow helped Petrak with a knife when he was in a tight jam thar at the door. I put two and two together, and I'm here, Ezra Harris, your mate, to tell ye that they make four, and ye can't git away from it—and what's more, this Trenjum is in with the parson and the other three. Devil's Admiral or no, it don't look nice to me."
"Do you think Buckrow and the other two know about this, Mr. Harris?"
"It ain't clear to me, so far as that goes, but Trenjum and the parson do. I looks at it this way—they knowed ye didn't know, and that Trego might tell ye; so they ups and lets a knife into him before he can tell, and then we're up in the air. If I hadn't found it they'd keep us guessin' until they was ready to get in some more fancy work, the Lord knows what.
"That Trenjum is a slick customer—I don't believe he ever writ anything for a newspaper, anyway—he's too tall and strong-lookin' to make his livin' with a pencil. This Trenjum and the parson is in together for all of their lettin' on they don't like one another. What business has a writin' chap with his breeches full of pistols like he had in the saloon? Ye can't tell me writin' chaps eats their meals with guns enough in their clothes to arm a landin'-party, no, sir!"
"A pretty pickle! Sally Ann, but I've got a nice mess aboard me, and I'm hanged if I know what it's all going to come to! I've half a mind to throw the whole lot in irons and work the ship with the chinks."