“There’ll be no man wants to live aft,” exclaimed Street.
“I will live aft,” said Antonio.
“Yaw, towed in der vake, you beastly man,” thundered Bol. “Dot was aft for der likes of you.”
“I will live aft, señor,” said Antonio.
“Curse your impudence, I’ll aft ye. Now, look. There are four Dutchmen and seven Englishmen, not reckoning two Spaniards.”
“Don’t count them Johnnies, sir,” said Travers.
“It vhas oudt dey go mit dem soon, I allow,” said Hals, the cook.
Paying no attention to these interruptions, I continued:
“A Dutchman is already mate. If I choose another Dutchman you Englishmen mayn’t like it. Now then.”
“Choose, sir,” exclaimed Call.