“I wonder what sort of people they are,” said Phil. “Along some of these shores they don’t bear the best of characters. Some of the fishing population are given to wrecking.”
“I don’t believe a word of that,” said Bruce, “and I never did. I dare say if a ship breaks up they appropriate what they can in a quiet way, and when the owners appear, they may be rather loath to surrender their spoil; but wrecking, in its bad sense, is not known here on these shores. Wrecking, as I understand it, means decoying vessels ashore, and sometimes murdering the shipwrecked crews. And I never heard of a case of that kind about these waters.”
“Perhaps,” suggested Bart, “they won’t feel inclined to recognize our ownership. I confess I don’t feel myself a very strong confidence in our claim.”
“Why not?” said Bruce.
“O, I don’t know. The claim don’t seem to be a just one; for instance, now, if the owners were to appear in a steam-tug and hitch on, would you order them off?”
“Yes, I would,” said Bruce, firmly; “of course I would. I would hire them to tow our ship and cargo into port, and pay them liberally, of course; but as to recognizing them as being owners, so long as we, the salvors, were on board, I would do nothing of the kind. The moment the captain and crew deserted the Petrel, that moment they lost all claims to her, on their own account and on account of their employers. The owners after that must look to the insurance companies, while we gain the benefits of good fortune and our own boldness.”
Bruce spoke all this in the most cool and confident manner in the world, and in the same tone as though the Petrel was lying in some safe harbor, and he and the boys were contemplating her, and considering her from a cosy nook on the wharf. Yet all the time the ship was pitching, and tossing, and straining, and the waves boiled around, and the seas rolled in foam over her deck.
The conversation was at length interrupted by Solomon.
His head and shoulders were projecting from the skylight. He was standing on the cabin table.
“Ise ben a tryin, chilen,” said he, “an a deav-orin to git up some kine ob a fire down heah, but I ben an made it six or seben times, an ebery time de water hab stinguished it. Don know dat dar’s any sort o’ use in tryin to kin’l it agin, specially as all de kinlin wood’s used up, an de res ob it is soaked through an through. Pears to me we’ll hab to do widout de tea an coffee, an drink cole water dis time, unless we can manage to hist dis yer stove on deck. Only, if we do, it might turn out to be a leetle mite tottlish.”