“I mean I don’t care,” cried Bostock. “It ain’t any of my interests. I haven’t underwrote your life. Only I’m blest if I’m not sorry for the cannibal as tries to eat your head. And what I recommend is a cheap, smart coffin and a good undertaker. See if you can find a house to give you credit for a coffin! Look at your friend there: he’s got some sense; he’s laughing at you so as he can’t stand.”
The exact degree of ill-feeling in Mr. Bostock’s mind was difficult to gauge; perhaps there was not much, perhaps he regarded his remarks as a form of courtly badinage. But there is little doubt that Hadden resented them. He had even risen from his place, and the conference was on the point of breaking up when a new voice joined suddenly in the conversation.
The cabman sat with his back turned upon the party, smoking a meerschaum pipe. Not a word of Tommy’s eloquence had missed him, and he now faced suddenly about with these amazing words—
“Excuse me, gentlemen; if you’ll buy me the ship I want, I’ll get you the trade on credit.”
There was a pause.
“Well, what do you mean?” gasped Tommy.
“Better tell ’em who I am, Billy,” said the cabman.
“Think it safe, Joe?” inquired Mr. Bostock.
“I’ll take my risk of it,” returned the cabman.
“Gentlemen,” said Bostock, rising suddenly, “let me make you acquainted with Captain Wicks of the Grace Darling.”