“And how many trips do you consider you have made altogether?” asked Courtenay.
“Oh, well, let me see—not less than sixty, I should suppose,” was the answer.
“Sixty times two hundred gives twelve thousand. Twelve thousand doubloons—that is a goodly sum indeed,” murmured I.
“Yes,” answered Carera; “and to that you must add what the other traders have taken across, which will perhaps amount to at least as much more. And there is also the specie which he has captured, and which of course he has had no need to barter away.”
“Whew!” I involuntarily whistled, a great light suddenly bursting in upon my hitherto darkened understanding. Courtenay frowned a warning to me, and I hastened on to say: “That will be a big haul, certainly. Why, Carera, you will be able to retire from the sea altogether, and live like a gentleman for the rest of your days.”
“Yes,” he responded somewhat gloomily, “if the secret is well kept. If not—if it ever gets abroad that any of us on board here have been the means of—of—well, of betraying Giuseppe and his gang, our lives will not be worth a maravedi; for were all hands over there,”—nodding ahead—“to be taken, there would still be the traders to reckon with. We shall completely spoil their game, you know, señors, and where there is so much money to be made out of it they would never forgive us.”
“Pooh!” exclaimed Courtenay reassuringly, “have no fear about that; they will never get to know how the thing has happened. If you can only depend upon your own people keeping close you may rely upon our so managing affairs that no suspicion shall rest upon you.”
“I hope so—I fervently hope so!” murmured Carera anxiously. “Riches would be of little value if one had to go about in constant dread of the assassin’s knife.”
We gave a cordial affirmation to this sentiment, and then noticing that our worthy and most estimable skipper seemed somewhat indisposed for further conversation just then, Courtenay and I retired to the cabin to talk matters over, having at length extracted sufficient information to show us pretty nearly how the land lay.
On getting below Master Courtenay’s first act was to carefully select another cigar from the box on the table, cut off the point with mathematical regularity, light the weed, and then push the box over to me with the cheerful invitation: