The smile had not altered on the lips of the Scotchman.
"With this money," said Hovey, forcing himself to remain calm, "you can retire from active work. You can get yourself a little place on the coast somewhere"—he had heard Campbell name some of his dreams—"and have a little cellar full of the right stuff, and have your friends run out to see you now an' then, an' talk over things that're goin' on at sea—where you ain't."
Here he placed a third bag of money on the table.
"You could do all that and more, chief—a lot more—with this money."
Hovey cut the lace which tied the mouth of one of the bags; he poured the gleaming contents across the table.
"Well?" he asked softly.
"Damn you!" whispered Campbell, and then, "You fool, am I not Scotch?"
"At least," went on the bos'n easily, "think it over, chief, and while you're thinkin', what d'you say to a drop of the real stuff?"
Campbell had not tasted either food or liquid since early the day before, and his eyes were moist as they stared at the two bottles.
"Set his hands free," said Hovey, "so that the chief can drink. We ain't half-bad fellers, Campbell; but we've got good cause for raisin' the hell you've seen on the Heron."