Though it had been Yan Bol’s watch from twelve to eight, yet, while the captain and I remained aft, he had kept forward. Now that Greaves had gone below, and my watch would be coming round shortly, Yan Bol came along to the quarter-deck.
“She vhas an oneasy time, Mr. Fielding,” he exclaimed in his trembling, deep voice, that made one think of thunder heard in a vault.
“It was,” said I; “but the sea is clear, and there’s an end to the trouble.”
“We should hov fought, by Cott,” said he, “had der needt arose. Ve did not like dot dis voyage should be stopped by a bloydy pirate. It vhas strange, Mr. Fielding, dot der cock should cry out in English.”
“It sounded English,” said I.
“Oh, she vhas goodt English. I like,” said he, broadly grinning, “dot my English vhas always as goodt. She vhas an English cock, maype, though schipped at Amsterdam. Had she been Dutch she vouldt hov spoke my language.”
At this moment eight bells—midnight—were struck. I thought to see Yan Bol instantly trudge forward with the alacrity of a seaman whose watch below has come round, but he evinced a disposition to linger, as on a previous occasion.
“I likes to findt a ship in a cave full of dollars, Mr. Fielding,” said he.
“There is a very great deal that one would like,” said I.
“Sixty-von tousand dollar,” he continued, “vhas a goodt deal of money. Dot money us men vill take oop. Und how much vill she leave, I vonder?”