“We’ll drop aboard,” said Sellers.
Cleary said nothing.
After his outburst of laughter he had remained dumb.
“Well, I’m off,” said Satan. “I want a drink and that’s the truth. The smell of them skelentons’s enough to start a Baptis’ minister on the booze.” Then he turned to Carquinez. “What did I tell you, sittin’ in your cabin? Told you I didn’t bank on this business, maybe you’ll remember that. Blast treasure liftin’! Leavin’ salvage aside, have you ever seen an ounce of gold raised in all these years? There was a hundred million lyin’ off Dry Tortugas—did they ever get it? How many ships has been down to Trinidad huntin’ for the pirates’ gold? Knight was the last man there—a lot he made of it! It’s only the chaps that sell locations to mugs that make money over this business, it’s my b’lief. Well, see you aboard later on.”
Off he went, Ratcliffe following.
As they came alongside the Sarah, Jude was hanging over the rail.
“What’s the luck?” cried Jude as they came aboard.
“Skelentons,” said Satan, “shipload of skulls an’ cross-bones. Slaver, that’s what she was; dead men’s bones, that’s your treasure.”
“Lord! And I’ve never seen them!”
“Well, there’s nothin’ much to see,” said Satan, with the irritating nonchalance of the one who has seen the show; “ain’t worth the trouble of lookin’.”