An' wot aba't us?' Friar snapped. 'Do they fink we're goin' ter sit on the ruddy stuff till it's all blown over. I'm for dumpin' it into the sea.'
'You tell that to the Captain,' Slim said with a hard laugh.
'Well, I reckon it's aba't time we packed it in. We're runnin' our bleedin' necks into a noose.'
Slim peered at him down his nose and there was a look of contempt in his eyes. 'Maybe,' he said. 'But suppose we do pack it in? Then we're on the run again. Stay and the whole thing may blow over.'
'That's all right for you,' Friar answered. 'You only got a two year stretch ahead o' you if you're caught. I ain't only a deserter. I got about three other charges against me, includin' resistin' arrest an' woundin' a copper. I don't want ter get caught.' His voice was almost a whine. 'I'd get five years at least. Five years is a hell of a long time.'
'You'd better talk to Manack about it.'
'Not ruddy likely. If I clear a't it'll be quiet like an' in my own time. An' don't you tell the Capting wot I bin sayin'. He'd be sore as hell if 'e thort I were runnin' a't on 'im.'
'Yes,' Slim smiled. 'He's not the sort who takes kindly to rats'
Friar was on his feet in an instant, his red cheeks mottled with anger. "Ere, 'oo you callin' a rat?'
'All right, all right.' A car roared into the yard.