The bushy-whiskered fellow appeared to be the chief speaker, and he said, just as the boys drew near:
“There are only five, counting the skipper and mate. The cook and the cubs don’t amount to anything. This yacht is a clipper, and, with her, we could soon find a market for what has been left on the key.”
“Don’t you think we’ve done enough already?” a voice asked.
“Yes, if all hands have turned cowards. We shall not get any deeper in the mud by taking what has come to us, and, with a craft like this, everything is possible. I wouldn’t want a better berth than to sail such a schooner around the keys, stopping whenever we wanted two or three days ashore, and going wherever we took a fancy.”
“You know what that means,” the same voice said.
“Supposin’ I do, haven’t we done the same thing already? We can go ashore at Nassau, and then it may be a good many months before we dare take what we’ve earned. I’m for making the most of a good chance.”
“But how can it be fixed?”
“Come nearer an’ I’ll tell you; there’s no need of yelling when there are so many to hear.”
The doubter moved across the deck, and Gil pressed his companion’s arm in token that they should retire.
“There’s no need of listening to anything more,” Gil said, when they were so near the wheel that there was no danger the words would be overheard. “Those fellows are plotting mutiny, and it is necessary father should know it.”