“I want to see them skelentons,” said Jude.
“Tell you they ain’t wuth lookin’ at!”
“I want to see them—”
“Oh, well then, tumble into the boat, tumble into the boat, and I’ll row you over.”
Ratcliffe watched while the dinghy passed over to the reef. He saw Jude on the wreck, kneeling and poring over the cargo, held, evidently, by the fascination that lies for youth in the horrible.
Then they returned, and Satan ordered the dinghy to be taken on board.
“Are you going to put out now?” asked Ratcliffe.
“Put out!” said Satan, with a grin. “Why, I’ve asked those fellers to come aboard gettin’ on for sundown, and whether or no if I raised a foot of chain they’d be on me with the first click of the windlass. I tell you we’re in a tight place! Cleary said nothin’, you noticed that, but he’s goin’ to have his forty dollars back if he knows how, and Sellers is the same,—he wants his thousand. We’re held for one thousand and forty dollars, and we’re not strong enough to fight them.”
“Well, see here,” said the peacemaker. “Pay them. I’ll stand the racket. It’s only a little over two hundred pounds, and I’ll give you a check.”
“You don’t get me,” said Satan. “It’s not the dollars I’m thinkin’ of so much as the game. Cark played me a low-down trick lightin’ out for here to scoop the boodle, and Cleary laughed at me with his old cod boat outsailin’ us. They’ve got to pay. B’sides, if I was to hand over that money, I’d never be able to show my nose again in Havana.”