“You have chosen me captain,” said I.
“The brig saved your life,” exclaimed Street; “you owes us a good turn.”
“Captain you are and captain we wishes you to remain,” said Teach.
“Dere vhas one ting dot vhas proper you should recollect, Mr. Fielding,” said Bol. “How about der wars dot vhas on? If we carries der treasure oop der Atlantic ve stands to lose her. Down here dere vhas peace und comfort.”
“Are not our heels a match for anything that’s afloat?” said I.
“Yaw,” answered Bol, “and vhilst ve roon a shoe comes off; den vhere vhas ve? Look at our gompany. Look at our goons.”
“What’s your scheme?” I exclaimed.
“Is it for me to speak?” said Teach.
“Shpeak, Thomas,” cried Bol.
“Our scheme’s this, sir. We want you to carry the brig to Amsterdam Island, where we mean to heave the brig to, weather allowing, land the silver, bury it, and sail away for New Holland.”