"Any more?" he asked.
"Not of that size," replied Floyd. "Well, what do you think of them?"
"Think of them? They are a fortune in themselves."
He carefully rolled them up again and replaced them in the box.
Meanwhile Floyd had been unpacking other specimens, which Schumer examined in their turn. He seemed well pleased with the take since his absence, as well he might be.
"I will have the safe brought ashore to-morrow," said he. "Meanwhile they will be all right here. Put them all back and come on. We have to tackle these scamps now and bring them to their senses. I don't want any fighting, if possible, for that would mean killing more of them, and we want them all for the fishery."
"Do you mean to say you are going to trust them to work again?"
"Of course I am. Why, man, it is nothing when one is working fellows like these to have revolts and rows. You shouldn't have let them get so much out of hand. I don't blame you, mind, for you are new to the business, but in the first instance you should have dealt properly with Sru. You should have shot him after that business about the girl. Martial law is the only law by which you can hold your own in a case like this. Well, we will see. Take your gun and come along."
They went out, and Schumer ordered the whaleboat to be manned.
Floyd for the first time recognized that the crew of the whaleboat were the same Kanakas who had formed the original crew of the Southern Cross. Mountain Joe was one of them. He saluted Floyd when he was recognized, and then took his place as stroke oar. Each man had a rifle and seemed to know how to use it, and they had all the stamp of men reliant and trained to arms.