“Oxpect—say dot again. I likes to hear you shpeak,” said Wirtz, with an accent that made me figure him doubling his fist.
“Aren’t I a sailor on board this ship?” said Antonio.
“A sailor, d’ye call yourself?” cried Teach. “Well,” he snapped, “suppose y’ are, what then?”
“I have a right to a share.”
“And do you tink you get a share?”
“I have a right to a share,” repeated the Spaniard in a sullen note.
“Call her a shoke or I vill fight mit you,” said Wirtz.
“I will not fight,” said the Spaniard in a dogged voice. “I have a right to a share. The capitan will pay me and Jorge. We are sailors with you, and are helping to navigate this brig to your country. The dollars are Spanish; they are money of my own country. The capitan is a gentleman, and will not wrong me and Jorge, and we will receive our share as a part of the crew.”
This was followed by a Dutch oath, by a crash and a low cry.
“Hallo, there—hallo!” I called. “What are you men about there on t’other side the caboose?”