“Knew what?” asked George.
“’Bout B. C. being Vanderdecken.”
“Oh, she’d ten to one like him all the better,” said George. “It’s his watch and I wish he’d quit fooling and look after the ship.”
“The ship’s all right,” said Hank.
“What do you mean?”
“You couldn’t hurt her or break her on a rock, not till she’s done with us; you couldn’t rip the masts out of her or put her ashore, not till she’s finished with us; she’s a mug trap and we’re the mugs. I believe Jake put a spell on her. What’s to be the end of it? I tell you it makes me crawl down the back when I think of that junk. What made that blue-eyed squatteroo of a B. C. ram her like that for?”
“Well, if he hadn’t, she’d have boarded us.”
“Boarded us, be hanged! If he’d blame well stuck ashore at ’Frisco, we wouldn’t have landed at San Nicolas.”
“Well, there’s no use whining,” said George. “We’re in the soup—question is how to get out. We’ve got to collar that boodle first so’s to have something to show.”
“Something to show—Lord! We’ll be shows enough.”