"Aye—why!" cried Belvedere, gnashing his teeth. "Ask her—go ask Joanna, the curst jade."
"She be only a woman, when all's said, Cap'n—"
"Nay, Job," quoth Belvedere, shaking his head. "She's Joanna and behind her do lie Tressady and Sol and Rory and Abnegation Mings—and all the Fellowship. So if she says he lives, lives it is, to lie soft and feed dainty, curse him. Let me die if I don't wish I'd left her on the island to end him her own way—wi' steel or kindness—"
"Kindness!" said Diccon, with an ugly leer. "Why, there it is, Cap'n; she's off wi' the old and on wi' the new, like—"
"Not yet, by God!" snarled Belvedere 'twixt shut teeth and scowling down on me while his hand clawed at the pistol in his belt; then his gaze wandered from me towards the poop and back again. "Curse him!" said he, stamping in his impotent fury. "I'd give a handful o' gold pieces to see him dead and be damned!" And here he fell a-biting savagely at his thumb again.
"Why, then, here's a lad to earn 'em," quoth Job, "an' that's me. I've a score agin him for this lick o' the eye he give me ashore—nigh blinded me, 'e did, burn an' blast his bones!"
"Aye, but what o' Joanna, what o' that she-snake, ha?"
"'Tis no matter for her. I've a plan."
"What is't, Job lad? Speak fair and the money's good as yourn—"
"Aye, but it ain't mine yet, Cap'n, so mum it but I've a plan."