“Why, ay,” he answered, staring at me without a wink from the full, knock-kneed, muscular stature of him; for he stood before me as a soldier—as he used to stand before Greaves when he received a lesson on the difference of dishes.
“What’s going to happen to this brig?”
“Why, master, they’re going to unload the silver and hide it in Amsterdam Island; and then we’re a-going to sail away for the coast of New Holland, where you’re to wreck us; and then we comes back for the money.”
“After?”
“Dunno what’s going to happen after.”
“What’s to be your share of the dollars?”
“There’s been nary word said about my share, master.”
“D’ye know why?”
“’Cos they don’t mean to give me none.”
“That’s so. There’s ne’er a dollar meant for you, Jimmy. Don’t you think that’s hard?”