"Tell me, what people hath the ship yonder, besides the ten Spanish knaves of whom you spoke?"
"Why, sir, as a true man I answer, a black cook—no maroon, but a swart fat knave from the Guinea coast; and three maroons, who fell sick, or rather were well-nigh beat to death, in an island over against the continent yonder we visited on the same errand."
"And they are gyved, as you were?"
"All but the cook. He goes free, but, my heart! 'tis little he gains by it. He is every man's football and whipping-boy."
"Why then do the Spaniards remain aboard the ship when there are so few slaves to guard?"
"'Tis first because they be idle knaves, who would never do a hand's turn save by necessity. Item, because they be but poor seamen, and need a dozen to handle a craft, only forty ton burden, that three true-born Englishmen could sail into the devil's jaws. Item, because the spot where she lies at anchor is ill-protected; 'tis rather an open roadstead than a bay, and if a squall should come up sudden, as 'tis nature in this meridian, they'd need all the lubbers' work to get a fair offing."
"So three true-born Englishmen are a match for a dozen base cullies of Spain? Is that your thought, Amos?"
"Ay, at musket, pike, or quarter-staff; there's never a doubt on it."
"Think you two, then, are a match for ten? The balance turns a little in favour of the Spaniards; by right proportion it should be two to eight; but mayhap four maroons on t'other scale would even the odds."
Turnpenny desisted from his work, and a shadow of his former fear came upon his face. Dennis did not allow time for the fit to lay hold of him.