“I’ll tell you wot it is,” was the reply: “you and me cut a pretty dicky figure.”
“That’s so,” said Davis, “a pretty measly figure, by God! And, by God, I want to see that man at my knees.”
“Ah!” said Huish. “’Ow to get him there?”
“That’s it!” cried Davis. “How to get hold of him! They’re four to two; though there’s only one man among them to count, and that’s Attwater. Get a bead on Attwater, and the others would cut and run and sing out like frightened poultry—and old man Herrick would come round with his hat for a share of the pearls. No, sir! it’s how to get hold of Attwater! And we daren’t even go ashore; he would shoot us in the boat like dogs.”
“Are you particular about having him dead or alive?” asked Huish.
“I want to see him dead,” said the captain.
“Ah, well!” said Huish, “then I believe I’ll do a bit of breakfast.”
And he turned into the house.
The captain doggedly followed him.
“What’s this?” he asked. “What’s your idea, anyway?”