“I’m not botherin’ about myself so much as the gentleman,” said Bowers. “If he’s fixed on staying, well, there’s no more to be said, but supposin’ he took sick—and it isn’t as if his mind was as right as it might be—then there’s the kid.”
“I know—I know—” replied the other. “It’s crazy—but there’s some sense in it all the same. His mind is sick, but he’s happy here; if he went back to Frisco wouldn’t he always be troubling over these children? He doesn’t trouble here—I’ve lain awake half the night thinking it out. I can’t leave you, can’t run the old hooker without you, unless”—he paused for a moment and looked over the water—“unless none of the others will take the job on—which is the most likely of them, do you think?”
“Well, sir,” said the bo’sun, “they’re a tough lot, but there’s no harm among them. Jim’s the ablest and he’s took a fancy to the kid, but God help it if he ever had the handlin’ of it; wanted to give it a chunk of beef when you were off the ship yesterday—no sense in his head. But, whether or no, he wouldn’t stop, he’s a long sight too fond of his pleasures ashore.”
“Well, I’ll get the chaps aft and put it to them,” said Stanistreet. “Tell Jenkins to hurry along with the breakfast, and we’ll muster them then.”
An hour later, led by Bowers, they came trooping aft, a coloured crowd in striped shirts or plain, open at the chest, canvas breeches, and not a shoe amongst them. One fellow had a red handkerchief tied round his head, Spanish fashion, and several wore the big buckled belts seen now only in the pictures adorning pirate stories and in melodrama.
They shuffled along, halted, swayed uneasily and then stood whilst Bowers ran them over with his eye as if counting them.
The fellow by the starboard rail sent a squirt of tobacco juice overside and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand apologetically whilst Stanistreet, who had been standing talking to Lestrange, wheeled on them.
“Got them all here, Bowers?” said the captain of the Ranatonga. “Good. Now, you chaps, I’ve called you aft just to have a word with you. It’s soon said. Mr. Lestrange here is staying behind on the island for his health, him and the child. I’m taking the ship back to port, and I want a man to stick here with him till my return.
“I want a chap to sign up for a year on this job, double pay and fifty dollars bonus when the time’s up. That’s good pay, but I’m not deceiving you; there’ll be no drink or strikes for the fellow that takes the job on, but he’ll have a good time. You all know Mr. Lestrange, and you can see for yourself what the island is like, plenty of grub, fishing, and nothing to do. Now then, step aft, one of you.”
Dead silence, and eyes cast everywhere but at the after-guard.