“Then I have none here; but I have in my pocket a Chinese dollar. It is worth shillings. You get many glasses of rack-ponch. You take it?” and as he spoke he thrust his hand into his pocket and drew out in the darkness a broad piece.
“It won’t do,” said Smithers. “You will be only getting me into more trouble, mister.”
“You will not take it?”
“Not me.”
“Then I shall keep it and spend it myself.” With a good deal of gesticulation the speaker thrust the coin back into his pocket, and gave it a heavy slap. “Now, you say to me that my boat is gone, and you say that my men could not see me if I hold up my hand?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Very well. You are very clever, but I know also two or three things. I shall go down to the pier, and call out to my men, ‘Ahoy!’ and then go into the water and swim till they pick me up and put me in a dry place in the boat. Now, what do you say to that?”
“Only this, mister. What do you think your men, if they come, will pick up?”
“Me—myself, sir, with my butterfly moths and my little lanterrne.”
“Ho!” said Smithers dryly. “And what about the crocs?”