But, we met with but sorry sympathy from him.
“You vas mooch bettaire off,” he said stolidly—“mooch bettaire off mitout ze accursed stoof! It vas bringt harm to Cap’en Shackzon, and ze crew of ze schgooners dat I vas in; and, markt mine vorts, it vas bringt harms to Cap’en Schnaggs, as zertain as I vas here and dere!”
“I’m durned, though, if I don’t make him suffer fur it, if he don’t shell out!” cried Hiram hotly, as we all resumed the path back to the shore, much more quickly than we had gone up to the cave. “I’ll give him goss!”
“He vill meet his vate vrom elsevere,” said Jan Steenbock solemnly, hurrying after us, for Hiram and Tom seemed all eagerness to tackle the skipper at once, and I trotted close after them. “Ze sbirrit ob ze dreazure vill hoont him, and poonish him in ze end!”
And, incredible as my story may seem, quite unwittingly, Jan became a true prophet, as what occurred subsequently will show.
When we got to the shore, we found that the ship had her boats hoisted in, and her anchor weighed; while the topsails were cast loose, showing that she was ready to sail at a moment’s notice.
What concerned us most, though, was that we could see no means for getting on board; for the dinghy by which we had landed was towing astern by its painter, and thus all communication was cut off with the shore.
“Denver City, ahoy!” shouted out Hiram, putting his hands to his mouth as an improvised speaking trumpet. “Send a boat to take us off!”
Captain Snaggs at once jumped up on the taffrail on our hailing her.
“Not one o’ ye durned cusses comes aboard my shep agen, if I knows it!” he yelled back loudly. “Ye went ashore o’ yer own accord, an’ thaar ye shell stop, by thunder!”