"Well, Billy!" the carpenter exclaimed, "for a big man, you have about the smallest heart of any man I ever met."
Thus did the conspirators settle the affairs of the Buccaneer's nation. But now another and most unmistakable sound saluted their ears. A cock crowed loud and long. It is a well-known fact that neither spirits nor conspirators can stand this sort of thing. "Ah!" cried the carpenter, "there goes the shrill herald of the morn." Conspirators generally speak in this florid manner. "The day has returned too soon. You have much to answer for, Billy; for by your incessant interruptions you have squandered our precious time. But no matter. My lads, one little thing before we part. We shall want money. We cannot get on without the needful. It is money that makes the old mare go."
"I have a scheme here," cried the cook, "of raising the necessary wind."
"Quick, Pepper, my man, where is that lamp of yours you are so fond of flaunting before the eyes of people in the broad light of day. The torch of Truth you call it."
"Ah! Master Chips, the light of that lamp is only shed on other people's business. It would never do here."
It could never for a moment be supposed that these conspirators had not their dark lanterns; and presently one was produced from the ample folds of somebody's cloak, and they all stooped down as the cook unrolled his plan and the light from the dark lantern fell upon the eager faces of Billy Cheeks, the carpenter, his mate, and the cook.
"Time, mates, is short, so I come to the point. This is a bill of sale."
"So, so, a bill of sale," they all said in a low tone as they eyed the piece of paper.
"We will have an auction," said the cook; "our foreign relations we have decided to let go; for we get more kicks than half-pence from them; but our colonies we will sell."
"Ha, ha!" laughed the butcher, hoarsely; "mind they don't sell you."