“That’s him, capen,” said Oakum, showing his yellow teeth. “Say, I think it ought to be another hundred bars, capen, for this.”
“Wait and see, my man. If it turns out as well as the last, I may behave handsomely to you; at any rate, if you serve me well, I shall not be shabby—handsome—shabby, that is what you say, is it not?”
“I say handsome,” said Oakum quietly, “never mind the shabby.”
That afternoon the schooner was comfortably moored over where the sunken vessel lay, and this time there was no difficulty in finding the place, for about six fathoms below the surface the black timbers could be seen, and the Cuban rubbed his hands with glee, telling Oakum that this would be the richest find, as it was here he had himself dived and obtained the ingots.
“And was the tother one of the places you knowed of?” said Sam.
“Yes,” replied the Cuban; “and I know of far more yet.”
“Didn’t you dive down at t’other place?”
“No,” said the Cuban, lighting a cigar. “I sent down a black, who was a splendid swimmer—one of my slaves.”
“Suppose he goes and clears off the silver unbeknownst to you?” said Sam, grinning.
“He will not do that,” said the Cuban, quietly exhaling a cloud of smoke.