We lay under the lee of the South Cape or New Britain for nearly a fortnight, during which time we effected all the necessary repairs to our own vessel, and fitted Yorke's cutter with a new rudder. So far he had not told us anything further of his intentions as regarded either the further prosecution of his trading voyage, or its abandonment. At breakfast one morning, Guest told him that he (Yorke) could have a couple of our native hands to help him work the cutter to Manila, or any other port in the China Seas, if he so desired.
He stroked his big, square jaw meditatively.
“That is very kind of you, Captain Guest,” he said; “but to tell you the exact truth, I don't know my own mind at this moment. I've a hazy sort of an idea that I'd like to keep the Fray Bentos company for a bit longer. I can outsail you in light winds—and I really don't care what I do now. And if you can spare me a couple of hands, I could jog along in company with you indefinitely. But, please understand me—I don't want to thrust myself and the Francesco into your company if you don't want me. As a matter of fact, I don't care a straw where I go—but I certainly would like to keep in company with you, if you don't object. Perhaps you would not mind telling me where you are bound?”
Guest looked at me interrogatively.
“Well, Captain Yorke,” I said, “one confidence begets another; your confidence in us is worth a heap of money to Guest and myself, and, to be perfectly frank and straightforward with you, the captain and myself intended to lay a proposition before you whereby we three might possibly go into this New Hanover venture on our own hook. But Guest and myself are bound to our present employers for another seven months.”
Yorke nodded. “That will be all right. I'm ready to go in with you, either at the end of seven months or at any other time which may suit you. You can count on me. I'm not a rich man, nor yet am I a poor man; in fact, there's a thousand pounds' worth of stuff under the Francesco's hatches now.”
“Well then, Captain Yorke,” I said, “as Guest here leaves me to do all the talking, I'll tell you why we are so far up to the northward, out of our usual beat. We heard in Samoa that a big ship, named the Sarawak had run ashore and been abandoned at Rook Island, in Dampier Straits, between the west end of New Britain and the east coast of New Guinea, and both Guest and myself know her to be one of the largest ships out of Liverpool; she left Sydney for Hongkong about six months ago with a general cargo. And 'there be pickings,' for she is almost a new vessel, and her gear and fittings alone, independent of her cargo, ought to be worth a thousand pounds. All we could learn at Samoa was that she had run up on a ledge of reef on Rook Island, and that the skipper, with three boats' crews, had started off for Thursday Island, in Torres Straits. Now, it is quite likely that, if she has not broken up, there may be a lot of money hanging to it.”
“For your owners!” said Yorke, with his slow, amused smile.
“Just so, Captain Yorke. 'For our owners,' as you say. But even our owners, who are rather 'sharp' people, are not a bad lot—they'll give Guest and myself a bonus of some sort if we do them good over this wrecked ship.”
“And if you don't 'do them good'?” he asked, with the same half-humorous, half-sarcastic smile.