Jim kept his eye glued to the telescope.
"'Tain't worth it, cap'n. The salvage'll only be a pound or two, not but what an extry suvrin comes in useful, an' we might tie her up to the buoy on the off chance until the relief comes or we signal a smack. But what's the good o' talkin'? We've got no boat, an' nobody'd be such a fool as to swim to her."
"That is what I had in mind."
Jim lowered the glass.
"That's the fust time I've ever heard you say a d——d silly thing, Stephen Brand."
There was no wavering judgment in his voice now. He was angry, and slightly alarmed.
"Why is it so emphatically silly, Jim?" was the smiling query.
"How d'ye know what's aboard of her? What's them fowl after? What's under that sail? What's that lyin' crumpled up forrard? Dead men, mebbe. If they are, she's convoyed by sharks."
"Sharks! This is not the Red Sea. I am not afraid of any odd prowler. Once—Anyhow, I am going to ask Jones."
"Jones won't hear of it."