“You’ll hang at the yard-arm at sunrise.”
“Dear me! At sunrise, too—quite poetical, ain’t it?” said Dawkins; but for all his bold front, he was visibly shaken. “But just a moment, commander, just one little question. What would you gain, now, by hanging poor old Dawkins—at sunrise?”
“Well, you see, it’s not so much what I should gain as what you would lose, Mr Dawkins,” says Pomfrett.
“Ah, I reckon you’re too clever for me, too deep altogether,” retorted Dawkins. “But I ain’t scared, not me, so don’t think it. I’ve lived cheek by jowl with goodman death for a matter of fifty year, you see. What do I lose, says you? Why now, I’ll tell you. I’ll lose a little cottage by the water-side, with a bit of a flagstaff in the garden, and flowers and a seat in it, and what not. I’ll lose a few quiet years of steady rations, which enables a man to fix his attention on repentance, ready for kingdom come, with a Holy Joe a-taking his Sunday tea in the parlour, very likely. Not much by the sound of it, is it? But it’s all poor old Dawkins has in store, for fifty year of hard service—just enough to make the difference of hell on the one side of the great gulf, and a golden crown and harps and such on t’other, for a poor old seaman.”
“Accept my terms, and I’ll give you a chance of the cottage and heaven and all,” said Brandon.
“Would you, now?” cried Dawkins, with a cunning leer. “Why, that’s mortal kind of you, commander, to be sure! You’re a man to be trusted—we all knows that—and I’ll take your word on it, Mr Pomfrett. I know when I’m beaten, I reckon. How much now, would you——”
“All in good time,” said Brandon. “We’ll have the dividend declared before the Blessed Endeavour sails.”
“Now that’s what I call talking!” says Dawkins. “The dividend declared—that’s real business. And then she sails for England, does she? That’s good news, too. And who’ll command the barky, cap’n, if I might ask?”
“I will,” said Brandon.
“Ho!” said Dawkins, with an appearance of deep thought. “Yes, of course. I might a knowed that much, says you. But now you and me is friends again, commander, you’ll not take a friendly hint amiss, I’m sure. The crew I got together, Mr Pomfrett, ain’t exactly Mary’s little lambs, as you might say—eh?”