In the midst of the gale we transferred our prisoners to their old quarters in the steerage, tied them as before, and placed a guard over them. Captain Farraday said nothing, and seemed to be mourning the loss of his rum. Waterford was sullen and silent; and I thought he had abandoned all hope of escaping his fate, which was nothing less than the penitentiary for a long term. The two Spanish gentlemen seemed to take their lot more hardly than the others. They offered money, and everything else they had to offer, if we would land them at one of the West India or the Madeira Islands.
At noon the next day the gale broke, and after the storm came a calm. We were glad of the quiet which followed, and within the next twenty-four hours there was a great deal of heavy sleeping done on board of the Michigan. We released the five Spanish and Portuguese sailors, though without much regard to the solemn promises they made us; for with the rum had gone their power to do mischief on board of the vessel. We watched them closely, but we made them work.
"I ought to have let you leave the bark, Phil, when you wanted to do so," said Waterford, as I called down to see the prisoners after the gale.
"That was your blunder; and I have made more out of it than you have," I replied.
"I suppose you have divided the money before this time."
"No; we mean to be honest men; and we shall hand everything over to the government officers."
"That don't include your fifteen hundred dollars—does it?"
"No; what is mine belongs to me, and the government officers have nothing to do with my money, any more than they have with my clothes," I answered.
"There is gold in my trunk to the amount of about eight thousand dollars," he continued.
"I know there is. Where did you get that gold, Waterford?"