“Do you think I’m fool enough to drink anything in this house?” inquired Flint, in a low whisper. “Didn’t you hear that fellow tell the mate that he’d never ship a crew till he got the sharks to help him.”
“Yes, but I don’t know what he means.”
“You never saw a two-legged shark, did you?”
“No, I never did.”
“Well, there’s one,” said Flint, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bar.
“Who? Where? You don’t mean the landlord?”
“Don’t I, though? I don’t mean nobody else. I can tell one of them fellows as far as I can see him. He’ll have a crew for the Santa Maria before many hours, now you see if he don’t. That’s what he’s up to, and that’s why I don’t drink the stuff in that glass. Them fellows playing cards are all fools. They’ll be out of sight of land some fine morning, now you see if they don’t—to-morrow may be.”
Flint settled back in his chair, nursed his right leg, and winked knowingly at Guy.
“I don’t understand,” said the boy. “They won’t ship aboard the Santa Maria, will they?”
“Yes, they will.”