“I’ll look after my crew,” Cammock said.
“Not with Captain Tucket and Captain Pain here,” said Stukeley, grinning. “You see. If you cut up nasty, Cammock. Why. You’ve a very good ship, and a lot of useful weapons in your hold. Long eighteens. Eh? Carry a mile and a quarter. What’s to stop us putting you ashore. Eh?”
“That’s what we did to the Frenchman,” Cammock said. “D’you remember, Pete?”
“At the Isla Vache,” said Pain, looking down modestly. “I remember.”
He spoke with such a strange inflection that none there could guess his meaning, though all looked at him curiously. He turned to Stukeley with attention, as though expecting something more.
“So,” Stukeley continued, “your humble servants of the ’tween-decks ask that you will give them a brush. Or——”
“Or what?”
“They’ll ask Captain Pain here to find them hammock-space.”
Captain Pain seemed to search Stukeley’s face for something further.
“You seem determined to put me in a queer position, mister,” he said. “But come now, Mr. Margaret. What’s wrong with having a go at Tolu? We’ve a hundred and ninety men. Why not?”