"Not a bit—no, suh. Yo' goes wid me dis trip, sho."
Smart hesitated not a moment, but sprang overboard and struck out for the shore, calling loudly for help.
Bahama Bill sat gazing after him for a moment, swearing deeply. Then he carefully shipped the oars, stood up, and the next moment plunged over the side after him. In a few rapid strokes he came up to the sailor. With one mighty arm he circled the swimmer, holding his arms to his sides as easily as though he were a child. With his other hand he struck out lustily for the sloop and gained her side, where two heads peered over looking at him.
"Pass a line, quick," he called.
A line dropped instantly over the side and fell within reach. Smart was quickly trussed and hoisted aboard and the mate climbed up after him.
"Put de mains'l on her—heave her short—jump!" bellowed Bahama Bill, at the same time casting off the gaskets from the boom and throwing the beckets off the wheel.
A Dutchman, Heldron by name, and a Conch called Sam, sprang to obey. The sail went quickly up with a clucking of blocks and snapping of canvas. Then in came the anchor, the three men hauling line with a will. One man loosed the jib while another sent it up with a rush, and just as the sweeping strokes of a pursuing oar fell upon their ears the Sea-Horse stood out the nor'west passage and to sea.
"Where's Sanders?" asked the mate.
"Oh, de cap'n, he dun take de mon' he get an' go to Tampa on de steamer this night. He say he goin' to do somet'in' to dem big hotels Mr. Flagler builds—dem dat run de gamblin'-houses. Won't be back fer a week."
"Cap," said Bahama Bill, casting Smart adrift, "yo' kin go below an' put dat money in de co'ner of de right-han' locker—no use yo' tryin' to swim away wid it. Yo' an' me is goin' to the Bank fer a bit o' work—dat's it, Sam, hook de boat as we come past—pass de painter aft, an' let her tow."