"Chorus, you fellers—
For it's windy old weather,
Stormy bad weather,
And when the wind blow
We must all pull together!"
IX
At Robinson Crusoe's Island, which is now called Juan Fernandez, the Beaver put in for water, and there her consort the Nereid joined company, having been out of sight for a month.
Of course Bill wanted to go ashore with the watering party, so the old man clapped him in irons lest he attempt an escape. "Losing your day's work," said Silas, who came to him at dinner time in the 'tween-decks, and brought food for them both.
Bill yawned. "Sleep is good," said he. "I didn't intend to run—at least, not here."
They sat on the deck with the food between them, to share the salt meat and biscuit.
"You hadn't oughter run," answered Silas. "Them Chilian loafers ashore what thinks they're soldiers ain't worth encouraging. Set 'em to hunting you—why, they'd get swelled head mistaking themselves for white men. You want to wait until we makes little old North America, where there's more room."
"You been on this west coast?" said Bill.
"You betcher—droguing hides along them Mexican ports, from San Diego all the way up north to San Francisco. Yes, and when I was whaling, I been to Roosian America. We watered at New Archangel!"