“Too much for us, sir? Not it. You’ve only got to give the word, and there’s that in us now as’ll carry us through anything. Only you lead us, sir, and we’ll do all the work. Is that the right word, maties?”
“Yes,” came like a hiss from the whole party.
“There, sir. You hear. Don’t you be afraid as we won’t do our duty by you.”
“No, no, Tom Fillot, I’m not a bit afraid of that, but the venture seems too wild.”
“Not it, sir. Why, we’re all red hot to be let go; so now then, what about the plans?”
“I have none, and we had better give up the business.”
“You’re saying that to save us, sir, but we don’t want to be saved the trouble. We want to get that schooner back, and serve out the rough ’uns who half killed all on us. And what’s more, me and my mates liked the taste o’ the prize-money we had got to our mouths afore it were snatched away, so we want to get it back again. That’s so, ain’t it, lads?”
“Ay, ay,” was whispered so deeply that it hardly reached Mark’s ears; but there was a fierce earnestness in it that told how strong was the determination on the part of the men to try and wipe out the past night’s disgrace, while, just as he thought this, by a strange coincidence, Tom Fillot whispered,—
“We must take her, sir. You can’t go back and meet the skipper without the schooner.”
The most cunningly contrived advice could not have affected Mark more powerfully. His heart beat rapidly, and, carried away now by the contagious enthusiasm of the men, he said,—