“Well, but, my good fellow, don’t you see that we should be scuttling ourselves too?” cried Hilary.
“Oh! no, sir, I don’t mean scuttle ourselves. I only mean the cutter. She’d soon fill. We’d go off in the boats.”
“How?”
The boatswain did not seem to have taken this into consideration at all, but stood scratching his head till he scratched out a bright thought.
“Couldn’t we let them on deck know as we’re going to scuttle her, sir, and then they’d sheer off, and as soon as they’d sheered off we wouldn’t scuttle her, but only go up and take possession.”
“Now, Jack Brown, how can you be such a fool?” cried Hilary, impatiently. “They’re sharp smugglers who have seized the Kestrel, and not a pack of babies. Can’t you suggest something better than that?”
“Well, sir, let’s scuttle her, and let them know as she’s sinking, and as soon as they’ve sheered off stop the leaks.”
“Oh! you great bullet-head,” cried Hilary angrily. “How could we?”
“Very sorry, sir,” growled the man humbly; “I don’t know, sir. I can trim and bend on sails, and overhaul the rigging as well as most bo’suns, sir, but I never did have no head for figgers.”
“Figures!” cried Hilary, impatiently. “There, that’ll do. Hark! What are they doing on deck?”