“That’s the best I’ve got, Mas’r Harry,” said Tom. “I never was a good one that way. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it. And as for sticking to you—There, Mas’r Landell, sir, haven’t I stuck to Mas’r Harry through thick and thin?”
“Most faithfully, Tom.”
“Thanky, sir, thanky,” cried Tom.
“Yes, yes, Tom, we know all about that,” I said. “No one doubts your fidelity, but it is not the question. We want to know what to do about getting the treasure home safely.”
“Oh! Ah! Yes, I see,” said Tom, as if he had not understood before, and it made me so vexed, what with being hot and nervous and bothered, that I felt as if I should have liked to kick Master Tom.
“I have it,” I exclaimed suddenly, and I gave the table a thump.
“He’s got it,” cried Tom, rubbing his hands. “Mas’r Harry’s got it, Mas’r Landell, sir. He’s a wunner at hitting out things, he is.”
“What is your idea, Harry?”
“It is rather a risky one, sir,” I replied; “but it seems to me the only likely one. We must put up with some inconvenience to get our treasure safe. Once we are at a good British port, of course we need not mind, and can do as we please.”
“Well,” he said, “what do you propose doing?”