"What kind of pacificos are you?" Morin queried. His mouth had fallen open, his eyes protruded.
"I, too, am a poor man, but I'm willing to buy freedom for my little brothers and myself."
"How many coins like that have you?"
"Um—m—more than one; enough to pay you for several cargoes of coal."
"And I have given you fish to eat!" Morin rolled his eyes at Jacket. He pondered the marvel of what he had seen, he muttered something to himself.
"For the sake of Miguelito," Jacket urged. "CARAMBA! What a hard-hearted father begot that boy!"
"Hush!" The fisherman was scowling. To O'Reilly he said, "You do wrong to tempt a poor man."
"My brother Esteban is sick. He is a frail little lad with a crooked back. God will reward you."
"Perhaps! But how much will YOU pay?"
"Ten Spanish sovereigns like this—all that I have."