“I want a hundred pounds,” said the man. “That there cargo’s going to be worth two thousand pounds, and it’s coming in a fast large French schooner from Havre. I want a hundred pounds, or I don’t say a word.”
A cargo worth two thousand pounds, and a smart French schooner! That would be a prize indeed, and it made the lieutenant’s mouth water; but he still hesitated, for a hundred pounds was a good deal, perhaps more than his share would be. But still if he did not promise it they might miss the schooner altogether, for in spite of his vigilance he knew that cargoes were being run; so he gave way.
“Very well then, you shall have your hundred pounds.”
“Now, captain?”
“Not likely. Earn your wages first.”
“And then suppose you say you won’t pay me? What shall I do?”
“I give you my word of honour as a king’s officer, sir.”
The man shook his head.
“Write it down,” he said with all the low cunning of his class. The lieutenant was about to make an angry reply, but he wanted to take that prize, so he went below and wrote out and signed a memorandum to the effect that if, by the informer’s guidance, the French schooner was taken, he should be paid one hundred pounds.
Lipscombe returned on deck and handed the paper to the fisherman, who took it and held it upside down, studying it attentively.