“Yes, I have,” said a fresh voice. “I’m with you, Jemmy, my lad, and there’s my hand on it; but there’s some’at in the way.”
“What’s that?” growled Jem.
“What about the Yankee chap as found the gold, and Sir Humphrey and Master Brace?”
“What about ’em?” said Jem, while Brace’s ears tingled.
“On’y this, messmates. They’ve took the ‘Jason’ and paid for her for as long as they like. S’pose they say we shan’t stop gold-digging and tells us to go on?”
“We must tell ’em we won’t leave the gold, and that they must stop and dig and wash, and go shares with us.”
“Tchah! they won’t. Chaps like they, who can hire brigs and skippers and crews, are chock full o’ money. They’d on’y laugh at us, for they’d rather have a noo kind o’ butterfly than a handful o’ gold,” continued the speaker. “Suppose they says we shall go on?”
“Then we tells ’em we won’t, and there’s an end on it.”
“But the skipper won’t pay us for breaking our bargain.”
“Well, what’s a few months’ pay to men who’ve got their sea chesties chock full o’ gold?”