The men clambered aboard, Bahama Bill leading, and in less than five minutes they had the two worthies triced up in a shipshape and seamanlike manner, lying upon the after-deck.
The giant mate gave a grunt of approval as he glanced at Smart.
"Yo' suah did de right thing, cap—I reckoned yo' might—but dat was a bad place toe jump a man, out dere in de water; it was dat, fer a fact. Now, yo' Dutchman, yo' Sam, git de grub from de box ob dat invalid, I'm mighty hungry, I kin suah eat a tid-bit—then we'll see how long it takes us toe git in behind Floridy Cape. I s'pose yo' wouldn't mind a bite ob dat good grub yo' brought abo'd, hey, perfesser?" he asked, addressing the reclining invalid.
"Don't rub it in, cap'n; don't rub it in," said the thin-faced man from his place upon the planks. "You take my advice and let that box alone. It'll take a stick of dynamite to bust it, being as it is made of steel under the outside wood cover. It's a very good safe, and strong. Better let that Dutchman get us a few pounds of that salt pig you have aboard, and some boiled corn. I'll risk the indigestion—and let it go at that."
Before daylight they had landed their prisoners and the safe upon the dock at Miami, and Sam had gone up-town to notify the authorities that the marshal was taking a cruise for his health to the Great Bahama Bank.
"If the vessel had been any good," muttered the thin-faced, as he was led away, "we'd have made good easily enough. She was a bum ship, mighty poor, and that was what caused the trouble."
"I still has a lot ob faith in her," said Bahama Bill.