“No, there’s too many of us. The rest could not be kept under long enough for any such deal. You see that we don’t get too close to the river. We must take our chances with the little we have.”
“Do you mean to sink her?” I asked.
“No, burn her,” he said, “and do you think it would be best for all of this crowd to get ashore at once?”
I saw his hideous meaning. The fellow was making it pretty clear that I was never to get ashore at all. There was every prospect of the large majority of the convicts remaining aboard, for Benson certainly never meant that half a hundred men should be turned loose upon South America to tell of their happenings. Just how he intended to dispose of the mass was the question.
“We have six boats,” I said, “and they will hold every one aboard easily, if the weather isn’t too rough.”
“A ship will always sink after she is burned, don’t you think?” he asked.
“Yes, if she is burned deep enough,” I answered.
“Well, she will be burned deep enough and the weather will be very rough. We will need all the boats to carry what stuff we can pick up.”
“What do you mean to pick up?” I asked.
“Now, I say, Gore, you must know that men can’t live without money. The first sail we sight you will report to me. It’s probable that all vessels going this way carry something of value, isn’t it?”