"What the hell have I got into?"
"You'll find out, if you live long enough," Retch said. "Just behave yourself and do as you're told and maybe you'll stay alive." Again the wolfish grin showed on his face but under the grin, the words were harsh with meaning.
"Ho, Johnny!" the three men were drawing near the raft. "Ho, Johnny Retch! What kind of a flying ship is this that you have brought back with you?"
Retch turned to the three men. "Gotch! Peg-leg! Masterville!" Retch greeted them as old friends. The one he had called Gotch had spoken. All three of them stared at the raft and its occupants. Mercedes drew bold, appreciative stares. Parker got blank looks. Standing lightly and easily on the water, the three men surveyed the raft with doubtful contempt.
"Does this thing fly through the air like the Jez—" Gotch caught himself. "It looks to me as if it were more fit for sailing on a mill pond back in Devon."
"This is not the ship that flies through the air, that ship was wrecked. This is a rubber boat that it carried."
"Wrecked?" Gotch spoke. "But where does that leave us?"
"Everything has been taken care of," Retch spoke quickly. "You can always trust Johnny Retch to have two strings for his bow."
"Hmmmm. And who is this?" Gotch gestured toward Parker.
"The pilot of the flying ship that was wrecked," Retch answered.