“How much?” persisted Bob. “Would a ton of it be enough for you, boy?”
“Yes, indeed,” laughed I; “a ton of pure gold - why, what do you suppose that would be worth, Bob?”
“Hain’t much of a ’idee,” replied he.
“A ton of pure gold,” said I, “is worth over one hundred thousand pounds, Bob; I believe one hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds is nearer its value; though I cannot say for certain.”
“Then,” said Bob, “if we can manage to get, say, a couple of tons of it home, you will be satisfied—eh?”
“Perfectly,” I replied; “but how do you propose to accomplish this?” for I saw he had a scheme to bring forward.
“Nothing easier,” replied Bob. “Build a little craft big enough to accommodate the two of us; with room to stow away our grub and water, and the two tons of gold; and up anchor and away.”
“But,” said I, “you forget that this island is somewhere in the Pacific. Such a craft as you speak of would be totally unfit for the voyage we contemplate.”
“Why?” inquired Bob.
“Why?” repeated I, astonished at the question. “Simply because we should never get across the Bay of Biscay in her, to say nothing of the remainder of the voyage.”