The captain turned sharply round upon him.
“Look here, Wat,” he said; “do you believe that I have murdered Abel Churr?”
“Lord, no, lad, not murdered; that be too terrifying a word. Pooked him—executed him for a spy—pooked him; and quite right too.”
“Once for all,” cried the captain, “let it be fully understood by you, and you can tell the men, that I caught Abel Churr in the store, and, after frightening him, I let him go, making him swear that he would never approach the place or divulge its position to a soul.”
“Do you want me to tell the lads that?” said Wat.
“Yes, of course.”
“Nay, then I’m a mutineer. I’m not going to help ’em to such words as that.”
“Why not?”
“Why not, skipper? Because it would lower you in the eyes of every man of the crew. What! after the oath we swore, and after the way the boys have kept it, for you, our captain, to go and let loose a varmin who had broken in and was robbing you, perhaps hunting out the savings and trade every man has got stored up here? Nay, captain, it would be degrading you in the eyes of all.”
“What would you have done, then?”