“Oh, I do not forget myself. Do you take charge of the landing and burial of the money?”
“Yaw, me himself. I likes to know vhere she lies.”
“You will pull around the island and reconnoiter first, I suppose, before you land?”
“Vhat vhas dot?”
“Before landing the silver you will take care to make sure there is nobody upon the island? That’s what I mean. Risk your own share, if you like, but my two tons must lie till I fetch them.”
“She vhas an uninhabited island mitout house or foodt. Dot vhas certain sure. But we foorst takes a look, Mr. Fielding. Oh, yaw, by Cott, we foorst takes a look.”
“You have come a thundering long way to hide this money.” He nodded. “And there’s the devil’s own trouble to be taken afterward. First the voyage from here to Sydney; then the trusting of Teach’s friend, Max Lampton, with this big, rich secret; then supposing that to prove all right, the return to Amsterdam Island—this fine brig, meanwhile, having been cast away—in some crazy little schooner, with the risks of a trip to New Holland in a bottom that may drop out under the weight of fifteen tons of silver.”
“Ve vhas not all dom’d fools,” said he, with a slow smile; “dere vhas no grazy bottoms mit us. Dis brig vhas fine, yaw,” said he, with a leisurely look round the deck, “but she must go.”
“It’s the maddest scheme that even sailors ever lighted upon,” said I, “but let’s have the rest of it. Having dug your pit you come back for the cargo?”
“Yaw.”