“Terms?”
“Bonuses and wages?”
“We’ll leave that to our noble friend.”
Mike gulped and spat to the mud flat.
“Last time Ah left that,” he said, “Ah had nothing coming to me when Ah went ashore.”
The Russian drew himself erect.
“The scale of wages,” he declared, “shall be, for you three officers, one thousand rubles a week—paid at Victoria.”
“How much is a ruble?” asked Mike.
“Two shillin’,” hissed the cockney skipper.
“Twa shillin’? That make a hundred pun a week! Ah hae noo doot it’ll be well earned before the end of the passage.”