“Not a bit of it! We’ll simply maroon him, with plenty of grub, and trust to chance for the rest. We’ll make Spider Key for the first land, and once he is there I’ll guarantee he stays.”
“But I don’t fancy the idea of such a thing as that,” Mr. Stout replied thoughtfully. “It is different, this scuttlin’ a vessel for the purpose of doin’ the insurance companies, while to maroon a boy is very much the same as puttin’ a knife into him, and perhaps more cruel.”
“Look here, Stout, it is too late for you to be squeamish. He has heard the plan and knows you agreed to it. Once his story has been told on shore, even if we back out now and put the brig into port, the cargo can be examined, and it’s good-by for you and I. Death wouldn’t be half so bad in my eyes as ten or fifteen years in jail, and that’ll be the size of it if he’s allowed to run around with our secret.”
“I s’pose you’re right,” the mate replied with a sigh; “but it’s mighty tough for the poor little fellow, all the same.”
“Not so much so as it would be for us. I’ll see to it that he has enough in the way of grub and weapons to keep him going for a year, and at the end of that time it won’t do much harm if he should tell the yarn.”
One would have said from the expression on the captain’s face that he felt certain Ned would not be alive at the end of a year; but the mate was willing to soothe his conscience with the thought that he might find some means of escaping from the key, and thus the matter was settled.
It only remained to decide upon the room which should answer for Ned’s prison until he could be sent ashore, and Mr. Stout said:
“I reckon we may as well leave him where he is, eh?”
“By no manner of means. Didn’t you say he could hear all that was said in the pantry?”
“Yes; but what of that? We needn’t go there to talk any more.”