“How close vhas der island, Mr. Fielding?”
“Roughly, sixty leagues.”
“Den, she vhas here to-morrow?”
“That is as the wind wills,” said I.
He went forward by twenty or thirty paces, and putting his hand to the side of his mouth—not that his voice should carry the better, but to qualify the liberty he was taking by making an “aside” of it, so to speak, to the eye—he called to Galen, Meehan, and two others who were on forecastle:
“Poys, she vhas here to-morrow. Der distance vhas sixty leagues at dinner-time.”
Galen accepted the news with a heavy Dutch flourish of his hand. Yan Bol returned to me. In the minute or two of his going forward I had been thinking, and with the swiftness of thought had concluded to ask him certain questions.
“Do you mean to bury the silver?”
“Dot vhas der scheme.”
“You will need to dig wide and deep if your pit is to contain all those cases.”