“He vas keep ze mans all day hunting for ze orchilla veeds up ze montane dere,” replied Jan; “and den, ven ze night vas coom, he vas tell me to shtop on ze vatch, and den he vas go ashore to look for ze cave mit himselfs.”
“He didn’t spot it at once agen then?”
“Nein. He vas look in vain vor dree nights, and vas near give oop ze hoont in despair; but on ze ozer night he vas come back to ze schgooners in goot sbirrits, and zays to me, zays he, ‘I vas vind ze cave at last.’ He vas zo glat he vas laf mit joy and I vas laf, too!”
“I guess ye hed sunthin’ to snigger over, hey?”
“Yase, joost zo! I vas laf mit him; and den, he vas bring oot dat Madonna dere, dat he vas hab stow avay in his shirt, and vas show it to me, and ze vigure vas shin in ze moonlight. Ah, dat vas bat; vor, von of ze Sbaniards of ze crew vas zee it shin in ze light and show ze golt, and he vas tell ze ozers—a pack of raskels—and ze whole game was oop vor us and ze dreazure!”
“How’s thet, mister?” inquired the skipper, as Jan paused again here, his voice dropping. “Did the varmint spile ye?”
“Humph!” growled the other. “Dey vas spile zemselves! In ze mittle of ze night ze raskels go down into ze cabin vere Cap’en Shackzon vas ashleep and shtab him mit dere knifes. Den, zey shtole ze golt Madonna and brings it oop on ze deck; and den, zey get vighting vor ze vigure, and shtab von ze ozers, and dey vas vake me oop mit ze row, vor I vas tiret and vas ashleep in ze boate over ze taffrail.”
“An’ how did ye come off with a hull skin?” asked Captain Snaggs. “I guess ye wer in a durned tight corner.”
“Zee goot Gott vatch overs me!” replied Jan Steenbock gravely, raising his eyes reverently upward as he uttered the word, “vor, in ze mittle of ze row, ven ze raskels vas all of zem murtering each ozers and ze deck vas rolling in bloot, a sudden gale vas spring oop; and ze schgooner vas dash on ze rocks dere to port, and she vas go down in ze deep vater, mit ze crew still vighting on ze deck to ze last. One—doo—dree—vore—mens vas already kil’t, besides Cap’en Schackzon—ze lifing and ze det going down zogeder into de zee, mit ze golt Madonna dat you vas now vind!”
“An’ how did ye scrape through, hey?”