"Captain, you said?" asked Scott. "Er—not a ship-captain, you mean?"
"Ay, I'm a ship-captain right enough," was the answer; "and in my day——"
Scott interrupted excitedly. "See here," he said. "I've got a boat, and I want a man to sail her to Delagoa Bay. I'll pay; I'll pay you a level hundred to start by nine in the morning, cash down on the deck the minute you're outside the bar. What d'you say to it?"
The sheeted man seemed to stare at him before he answered. "You're on the run, then?" he mumbled at last. "You're dodging the plague, eh?"
"Yes," said Scott. "A level hundred, an' you can have the boat as well."
"Man, you must be badly scared," said the other. "What's frightened you? Are you feared you'll die?"
"Go to blazes," retorted Scott. "Will you come or won't you?"
The man laughed again, the same short cackle of mirth.
"Listen," urged Scott, wiping his forehead. "I've got a—er—I've got a girl. You say I'm scared. Well, I am scared; every time I think of her in this plague-rotten place, I go cold to the bone. Is it more money you want? You can have it. But there's no time to lose; I'm not the only one that knows about the boat."
"A girl." The other repeated the word, and then stood silent.