“I’ll pink ’em, anyhow,” said he, as he loaded 295 his long gun. “I’ll makes holes for earrings, ecod!”
Yes, sir; the skipper would show the Jolly Harbour folk how near a venturesome man could come to letting daylight into a Jolly Harbour hull without making a hopeless leak. Jus’ t’ keep ’em busy calking, ecod! How much of this was mere loud and saucy words––with how much real meaning the skipper spoke––even the skipper himself did not know. But, yes, sir; he’d show ’em in the morning. It was night, now, however––though near morning. Nobody would put out from shore before daybreak. They had been frightened off once. Skipper Bill’s wrath could simmer to the boiling point. But a watch must be kept. No chances must be taken with the Spot Cash, and––
“Ahoy, Billy!” a pleasant voice called from the water.
The crew of the Spot Cash rushed on deck.
“Oh, ho!” another voice laughed. “Skipper’s back, too, eh?”
“With a long––perfeckly trustworthy––loaded––gun,” Skipper Bill solemnly replied.
The men in the punts laughed heartily.
“Sheer off!” Skipper Bill roared. 296
But in the protecting shadows of the night the punts came closer. And there was another laugh.