"I'll make it fifty an hour—only working one hour a night—how's that?" asked Journegan. "Work one hour and do as you're told and you get fifty—get the money in advance—what?"
"Yo' make me tired, Stormy. I knows yo' fo' a good business man, I seen dat at de Cayo Huesso, but don't come abo'd heah an' begin fool talk. Cap'n Smart heah is my partner, jest now,—he wouldn't let me work fo' dat price." And the big mate rose as though to go below.
Smart looked at Journegan with a cold eye. He knew the fellow, but he knew also that they were both dead broke, that their money from the salved cargo was no nearer than it had been the day they arrived in port. It might be a month or two before they received anything on their diving. The ammunition had to be tested and there was no use hurrying matters. That it would be good, there was not the least doubt, but it had been in the hold of the brig completely submerged for some time, so long in fact that it had been abandoned by the first wrecking crew, composed of the Sea-Horse men and the steam tug from Key West. Yes, fifty dollars an hour might get something to eat while they waited the leisure of the agents of the ammunition house buying the stuff. Fifty dollars was good pay, and he knew he could not afford to let the mate pass it for any personal matter that might exist between himself and Journegan. He watched the pair steadily and when Bahama Bill showed signs of giving it up he spoke out.
"Better take it on, Bill," he said, as the giant stretched himself at the companionway. "I know you're worth more'n that to Mr. Journegan, but I think you might take it on for a few days."
"De hell yo' do," quoth the mate, glaring at him.
"I'll make it seventy-five," said Journegan, "that's as high as I'll go."
"Well, so long as Cap'n Smart say do it, I'll jest take it on dat figure," said the mate. "What's de lay?"
"The process of extracting gold from sea-water is a secret one, my dear Bill," said Mr. Journegan. "I really don't quite know the manner of doing it myself. You will come up to the hotel in about an hour and a half, or before sundown, and Mr. Smithe, the chemist, the brains of the plant, will give you your instructions. You had better come alone, and before you make the deal I want you, of course, to promise that you will not tell of anything—not a thing you see in the plant—understand. The process is patented, but if every one knew it there would be no reason in the world why anybody couldn't get money the same way."
"Dat seems fair enough," assented Bill. "Ob co'se I kin see somethings dere, but I promise not toe tell de neighbours—yep, it goes at dat—I'll be up toe de swell shack befo' dark—so-long."
Mr. Journegan stepped into the small boat and a moment later was walking leisurely up the road to his rooms at the hotel. He could count on the success of Mr. Smithe's scheme to a certainty and the knowledge gave him much pleasure. It had been quite easy, only that shark of the reef, Bahama Bill, had robbed him. He cursed the avaricious mate, cursed him freely and fluently for his greed, but in the end he laughed, for was not the gold plant to be a great success. Bah, a few hundred dollars one way or the other was not to be considered. He and his partner had enough for a few days yet, and by then they would be rich men. He made his way to the rooms of Mr. Smithe, knocked at the door and was confronted with a six-shooter held in that brainy gentleman's hand.