“Ay!” roared up the sudden yell, but Crawford only smiled frostily at them.
“I take the bark,” said he quietly.
“Settle it as ye will,” said Frontin, laughing, and caught a mug from the table. “I’m up above for a dram.”
He worked his way through the crowd, none heeding him, and vanished up the ladder that led to the deck.
“Crawford, be reasonable!” growled Vanderberg, with a ponderous oath. “The bark ye shall not have—so say we all.”
“She has three guns trained on you,” said Crawford coolly. “Perhaps you noticed how she was moored? She’ll blow you all to hell and the gold with you, if I come not back.”
Now, at any other time this threat would have won the day, for none doubted that it would be carried out. As it happened, however, the men who had returned with Bose were drunk with exultation and hot raw rum and the touch of gold; and those with Vanderberg were worn to the quick with mad drinking and madder work, so that at a dare they would all of them have attacked the devil and his angels.
Too late, Crawford saw that his main petard had failed to explode. Ugly grins ran along the circle of black and bronzed and bearded faces, and an uglier murmur; hands went fumbling to knives, and men drew closer together before the companionway. Vanderberg showed his great yellow teeth in a grin of sneering anger.
“Ye think that bullies of the main are adread of a shotted gun or two? Ye poor simpleton!”
A wild outburst of laughter went up at this, and devilry was in the laughter. For a moment rang out scurrilous jests and oathy jibes; but as Crawford sat unmoving and quite cool, and as his frosty blue eyes swept them from man to man with a calm unconcern, they presently quieted. Not that they were abashed, however.