“Yet you are ready to take my place?”
“I have given you my reasons.”
“They do you honor; but you would fail where I might succeed. You are not a sailor. Brave as I know you to be, you are not physically fitted for the rough work which may be needed. I think, too, you exaggerate the risk. The Alaculofs are broken by last night’s failure. They will not dare to face us.”
“At least spare me an argument which does not convince yourself; otherwise you would depute me instantly for the service.”
“Well, you force plain speaking. While I command the Kansas I am responsible for the well-being of the ship, her crew, and her passengers. I could never forgive myself if I left those men to the mercy of the Indians. I cannot permit either you or Tollemache to take a risk which I shirk. Boyle and Walker must remain on board—lest I fail. Now, Christobal, don’t make my duty harder. Shake hands! I am proud to claim you as a friend.”
“Huh!” said Boyle, strolling towards them. “What is it? A bet?”
“Yes,” laughed Courtenay, from whose face all doubt had vanished; “a bet, indeed, and you hold the stakes. Have you seen the smoke signal yonder?” and he pointed across the bay.
“Yes. Tollemache found it again, twenty minutes since.”
“It means that eleven of our men are there, expecting us to save them. Hoist the ship’s answering pennant from the main yard swung out to starboard. Build a small fire on the poop and throw some oil and lampblack on it. If they don’t recognize the pennant they will understand the smoke. Get some food and water stowed in the life-boat, and offer five pounds a head to six men who will volunteer for a trip ashore.”
“I go in charge, of course, sir?” said Boyle.