Caleb Wetherbee closed the captain’s eyes tenderly, wrapped him in the bit of sailcloth which had served as his bed, and fastened his lifeless body so that no unexpected roll of the raft would precipitate it into the water. Then he took the scant share of food left of the captain’s hoard, and religiously divided it into two equal portions.
“Jim!” he said, when this was done, allowing himself but a moment to gloat over the pitifully meager supply which he laid on the chest lid.
“Aye, aye, sir!” responded the sailor gruffly, cautiously raising his head from behind his fortification.
“Captain Tarr is dead, Jim, and I have divided his share o’ the grub. Put down your weapons and come forward to the chest and take your part. Remember, no slippery business or I’ll bore a hole in ye! Step out now.”
Suddenly the sailor arose, his ungainly, dwarfish proportions being more manifest now that he was on his feet, and approached his officer, stepping over the body of Paulo without a glance at it.
His fierce eyes lighted eagerly as he saw the little supply of food (he had already consumed all his own), and he seized it at once. While he did so he looked at the wooden legged sailor with a crafty smile.
“Wot was it the old man give ye, Caleb?” he asked familiarly.
The mate scowled fiercely at him, and did not reply.
“Oh, ye needn’t act so onery,” went on Leroyd. “I knowed there was somethin’—money I bet—that was given to the old man at the Cape. He’s acted like a new man ever since, and if there’s anything in it, I’m goin’ ter hev my share, jest like this share o’ the grub, now I tell ye!”
“You take that food and git back to your place!” roared Caleb, pointing the huge “bull dog,” which had a bore like a rifle, at the fellow’s head. “An’ let me tell you that I shall be on the watch, I shall, an’ it’ll be a long say afore you catch Caleb Wetherbee asleep. Ef I ain’t saved, you won’t be, let me tell you, for ef I feel myself a-goin’ to Davy Jones, you’ll go along with me!”