The man at the wheel let go the spokes and came forward and deposited a handful of money beside the rest. “There's mine. I wisht it was a million; it would go just as free.”
“Boys, I'd make a speech to you—but my throat is too full,” choked Mayo. “I know better, now, why something called me over to Hue and Cry last summer. Hard over with that wheel! Jockey her down toward the wreck!”
When they were within hailing distance of the lighter Mayo raised his megaphone. “Will you take fifteen hundred dollars—cash—now—for that wreck, as you leave her when you've loaded those lighters?” he shouted.
There was a long period of silence. Then the man in the fur coat replied, through his hollowed hands: “Yes—and blast the fools in Boston who are making me sell!”
XXVII ~ THE TEMPEST TURNS ITS CARD
And one thing which we have to crave,
Is that he may have a watery grave.
So well heave him down into some dark hole,
Where the sharks 'll have his body and the devil have his soul.
With a big bow wow!
Tow row row!
Pal de, rai de, ri do day!
—Boston.
After the man in the fur coat had placed a hastily executed bill of sale in Mayo's hands, he frankly declared that his interest in the fortune of the wrecked steamer had ceased.
“The Resolute reports that storm signals are displayed. I'll simply make sure of what I've got. I'll play the game as those quitters in Boston seem to want me to play it.”
The tugs, departing with their tows, squalled salutes to the little schooner hove to under the counter of the Conomo.