"That man, Journegan, surely was a fellow of ability," he said. "He has cleared—gone clean away on the ship for Nassau—but I don't think he will ever come back."
"'Tain't likely," grunted Bahama Bill. "No, it won't do for him toe come along dis way agin—if yo' don't mind, cap, I'll git yo' toe write me a letter to my wife—fightin' Jule—I reckon I better be gittin' some ob dishear money down toe her, or she'll be a-coming along up heah fo' toe take a look at things.—I see dat Mr. Smithe has been let go—no one to prosecute him—toe bad, toe bad."
Shanghaing the Tong
Captain Smart sat upon the deck of the wrecking-sloop Sea-Horse, and read a letter from the agents of the cartridge company which had furnished the ammunition to the Bulldog, brig, wrecked some time before upon the Great Bahama Bank. It caused him some uneasiness, for he scowled and wrinkled his brow, read and re-read it until the giant black mate, Bahama Bill, could keep back his curiosity no longer.
"What is it, cap? What dat guy say? No use keepin' bad news back. I kin stan' it, I reckon. Let's have his lay—ain't dat cartridge case no good?"
"He says," began Smart, "that the samples are good, that the cases are all right, and he will take the ten tons, about three hundred thousand rounds, at a cent and a half, the cartridges retailing at three cents, or thirty dollars per thousand. That nets us four thousand five hundred, or a little over two thousand dollars apiece for our day's work——"
"Well, dat ain't so bad—no, dat's all toe de good, hey?"