Bahama Bill, Mate of the Wrecking Sloop Sea-Horse

by T. Jenkins Hains

"Oh, yes, we make a few thousand dollars a day at that gold plant. 'Tain't much, but it goes," said he.

"Don't suppose you'd chin with such fellers as me no more," said Bill, squirting a stream of tobacco into the sea with a vehemence that told of his opinion of those who became stuck up at success, "but I ain't forgot that last deal you played. I'm glad we got clear with our coin, not as you meant we should, but it goes dat way," and Bahama Bill looked thoughtfully into the distance. He had not forgotten the game at Stormalong's bar at the Cayo Huesso when Captain Smart had been fleeced by the gang of Havana crooks, of which "Skinny Ike" had been the leader. He had reason to remember that night, for it had made it necessary for both him and Smart to get to sea without delay, he himself getting a sore shoulder from the six-shooter of the head crook for his interference. But he had cleaned up the entire crowd, with Smart to help, and the memory was evidently pleasant, for he smiled as he looked into the distance.

"Come abo'd, Stormy, if you don't mind yo' good clothes. Yo' shuah is gittin' toe be a dude—how you come by dem duds, hey?" he said still smiling. "I don't need toe make yo' acquainted with Cap Smart—yo' remember him—what?"

Journegan remembered Smart very well indeed. He looked at him a moment askance, for he had set out to do up the captain that night in Key West, and would have succeeded but for the interference of the giant mate. He, however, saw the point at once and never alluded to the past, but grasped Smart's hand with vigour and assured him that of all people in the world he was most glad to see the captain doing so well. Smart eyed him coldly, but waited for events to shape themselves, knowing full well that the Conch was not there for idle pastime, but had some ultimate purpose in view which was probably of importance.

Journegan was not long in getting down to business. He had plenty of time, but the anxiety of his accomplice caused him to hurry matters and settle the affair at once.

"I want to get a good diver, Bill," said he, finally. "I want a man who will work for twenty dollars an hour in shallow water. Yes, I want a man who can work at a little depth of six or seven feet and do what he's told without asking questions—do you know of any one?"

"Yep, there's Sam—he kin work at that depth, an' I reckon he'll do it for twenty an hour, an' not squeal," said the mate of the Sea-Horse, his ugly face wrinkling into a strange smile and his rheumy eyes turning slowly upon Journegan, fixing him with a curious squinting look which seemed to go clear through him.

"Don't you think you could do the trick for me?" asked Journegan pointedly.

"Nix, not fo' dat little money. Why, man, we're just waitin' fo' a few thousand dollars on some ammunition we salved from the wreck ob de Bulldog, brig—out on de Bank two weeks ago. No, if yo' kin pay a man's wages I might get toe work fo' yo', but don't come around heah, Mr. Journegan, with them clothes on an' ask me, me, Bahama Bill, toe work fo' nothin'—Nix, I say nix—don't keep up de conversation—I don't want toe hear no mo'."

The mate of the Sea-Horse had received a lesson in regard to pay only a short time before from Smart when they had been chartered by a stranger. He was not slow to learn, and he knew that if Journegan would pay twenty dollars an hour he would pay a hundred—if he had it. There must be some necessity for urgent work—some work perhaps upon the gold plant down the bay which needed repair at once, or there might be a corresponding loss of metal. He had heard of the outfit, and had laughed when he found out it was Stormalong Journegan who was mixed up in it. The name of the chemist was unknown to him, but he thought it might well be that the Northerner had really found something worth working.