“Who’s sworn? Not I. To perdition with your buccaneering articles! As for the bark beings yours—who took her? I did, and I mean to have her. But listen, all of ye! I’ll be fair. What’s my share of that gold up above?”
“One third to Frontin as discoverer,” said the Captain promptly. “The rest in shares. Five to me, two to each officer, one to each man. We voted you an extra share.”
“You are generous, and I thank you,” said Crawford drily. “But I’ll turn back my three shares and take the bark instead. How’s that, lads? Vote on it!”
There was a howl of dissent at this, and Vanderberg grinned nastily. He had viewed that bark with a seaman’s eye, as had they all, and had found her better than good. Then a sudden thought struck him.
“Why did ye not run with her when ye had her, Crawford?”
Crawford shrugged lightly.
“Why? What I want I take—I don’t steal. Bose, will ye go to the bay with me?”
“Nay, sink me if I will!” cried out the big ruffian swiftly. “To a land of ice where devils play all the Winter, and there’s but a week i’ the year a ship can pass the straits? Not me!”
Crawford looked at Frontin, but the latter made no sign. So he sent his gaze again to Vanderberg, and what he read in the latter’s face told him there was storm ahead.
“Take the ketch, Crawford,” said Vanderberg, grasping at this bright thought. “Ye could not work the bark with so few men, anyhow. Take the ketch, and what ye will of the stores. How’s that, lads?”