“That’s so,” said Candon. “Well, I’ll tell you, right along till near the end he used to keep the stuff he got aboard his own hooker. You’re right, his lay was the Channel Islands. But finding he’d made the place too hot for himself all right along down the American seaboard, and expectin’ to be searched, he did a dive for the bay I told you of and there he cached the stuff, and I’m the only man beside himself that knows where the cache is.
“There, I’ve told you that much. I’m not going to say how I got so thick with him as to know his plans and dispositions. I just ask you to take B. C.’s word that the goods are according to the manifest.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Hank, “I don’t want to dig into your business, all I want’s the Dutchman, and to put my hand on his shoulder.”
“And so you shall,” said B. C., “’less he dies before we get there.”
They came up and, Candon taking the wheel, the two Chinamen who were holding the deck dived below. An hour later, the Chinks being called up, watches were picked, George falling to Hank, Champagne Charley to Candon.
Candon being the most knowledgeable man and the best sailor, it was agreed that he should work the ship.
“You can’t have two heads,” said Hank, “and I reckon yours is better than mine where navigating her is concerned.”