The moment they entered the American's house, Burrowes sat down on the table and the German on a gin case.
“Wal, Dutchy,” said Burrowes, looking keenly at his companion, “I reckon you know who the almighty swell in the brass-bound suit is, hey?”
“Yaw,” replied Schwartzkoff, “it is Bilker, und I thought he was in brison for ten years mit.”
“Wal, that's true enough that he did get ten years. But that's six years ago, an' I reckon they've let him out. Public feelin' in Australia agin nigger catchin' ain't very strong; an' I reckon he's got out after doin' five or six years.”
“Dot is so,” asserted the German; and then he leaned forward, “but vat vas he doing here in dis fine, swell schooner mit?”
“That's jest what you and me is goin' to find out, Dutchy. An' I guess that you an' me can find out darned easy. Bilker ain't going to fool me; if he's on to anything good, I guess I'm going to have a cut in.”
“Veil, ve see by und by, ven he comes ashore. Von ding, I dells you, mine friend. Dot fine shentleman don't know vat you und me knows about Captain Bilker.”
The American gave an affirmative wink, and then going to a rude cupboard he took out a bottle of gin and a couple of tin mugs.
“Look hyar, Peter, I guess you and me's goin' to do some business together over this schooner, so let's make friends.”
“I vas agreeable,” said the German with alacrity, rising from his seat and accepting the peace-offering. He nodded to Burrowes and tossed it off.