While the pretended invalid was talking to them, Sailor Bill had been watching him, apparently with eager interest.
“Beg pardon for ’aving a small taste o’ differences wid you in the mather ov your age,” said the sailor, as soon as the man had ceased speaking; “but I’ll never belave you’ve been about ’ere for forty years. It can’t be so long as that.”
The two men, after staring at each other for a moment, uttered the words, “Jim!”
“Bill!” and then, springing forward, each grasped the hand of the other. Two brothers had met!
The three mids remembered that Bill had told them of a brother, who, when last heard from was a slave somewhere in the Saara, and they needed no explanation of the scene now presented to them.
The two brothers were left alone; and after the others had gone out of the tent they returned to the Krooman; who had just succeeded in convincing the sheik that the stones being fished out of the sunken ship were, at that time and place, of no value whatever.
All attempts on the part of the old sheik to convince the wreckers as he had been convinced himself, proved fruitless.
The arguments he used to them were repeated to the sailor, Bill’s brother; and by him were easily upset with a few words.
“Of course they will try to make you believe the cargo is no good,” retorted Jim. “They wish you to leave it, so that they can have it all to themselves. Does not common sense tell you that they are liars?”
This was conclusive; and the wreckers continued their toil, extracting stone after stone out of the hold of the submerged ship.