"Oh, Jacko, you devil!" cried Taberman. "I wouldn't have believed you had it in you! Do you really think we can do it?"
"Do it! Of course we'll do it. Didn't I tell you I'd got my crew already? Ten strappers, not counting Gonzague."
"Did Gonzague kick?"
"Gonzague? Did you ever consider, Tab, those eyes of his, with that nose and mouth?"
"No," Jerry responded, "I've never given his features any especial critical overhauling."
"Saracen!" Jack said, lowering his voice. "When you see that combination in a Spaniard or a Provençalese, it spells Moorish marauder every time. He doesn't know it, I fancy; but there's good old ripe Moorish pirate blood in him, and it came sizzling to the top the moment I broached the scheme. Besides, Gonzague would have his throat cut for me any time."
"That's so, but he's as honest an old soul as there is above ground."
"Of course I told him, and I told the crew, that it was a lark. You know I've knocked about Penobscot Bay ever since I got out of the nursery. Everybody knows me, and at Isle au Haut I've been so much that I'm almost like one of their own pals to the natives. I got hold of my men pretty easily. Of course they look on me as the same as the President's son; and they were willing enough to leave the fishing for better wages than they could earn anywhere else. They all like me, and so of course they all take advantage of me in the way of wages."
"I confess I don't see where your economy comes in, Jacky," observed Taberman, giving a poke to the wasting fire. "I don't know much about expenses, but I should think it would cost as much to hire a crew as to go without one."
Castleport grew grave and moved a little impatiently.