Glennie repeated this ultimatum, and the looks of the spokesman underwent a change. The sullen expression faded from his swarthy face and he began speaking volubly.
"He says," reported Glennie, "that he is very sorry if he and his companions have put us to any extra trouble. They will go ashore at Punta Arenas—for they would rather be captured and shot, although they are innocent men, than to inconvenience us. If it hadn't been for us, he says, they would all have been dead men, anyway."
"That's the spirit," approved Matt, "although I don't think, if they are really innocent, that any harm will happen to them."
Just then Speake came in with tin plates heaped with food, and with tin cups of steaming coffee. He had to make several trips below, but finally all were supplied and fell to eating.
The Chilians devoured their food more like famished animals than human beings, casting aside the knives and forks and using their fingers, and gulping down the hot coffee as though it had been ice water.
"They eat like cannibals," remarked Dick.
"Vat a safeageness!" exclaimed Carl. "Dey act like dey don'd haf nodding to eat for a mont'."
Even the injured Chilian used his left hand and went at his food with the frantic haste shown by his comrades.
"They'll do," rumbled Dick. "You couldn't kill 'em with a meat axe. That chap on the locker has forgot all about his broken arm."