“How vhas she to be?” cried Bol, looking round the sea.
“How was she to be?” I exclaimed. “Why, heave to under topsails and a topgallant sail.”
“Suppose she cooms on to blow und ve vhas still ashore?”
“Well?”
“Veil, der vetter obliges you to roon, und you lost sight of der island und us. How vhas dot, mit noting to eat ashore, und der vetter tick und beastly for dree veeks, say?”
“Look here, Bol,” said I, speaking loudly, “you are wasting valuable time in talking damned nonsense. You’re all for supposing. I choose to suppose because I am to be left in charge of this brig, frightfully short-handed, and don’t mean to depend upon her ground tackle. D’ye understand me?” He gave one of his immensely heavy nods. “But you—there are always chances and risks in a job of this sort, and recollect ’tis your own bringing about—‘twas you and Teach yonder who contrived it.”
“Vell?” he thundered impatiently.
“Get your boat over as smartly as may be when the time arrives. Load her with as much silver as you may think proper to take for the first jaunt. Stow a piece or two of beef and some barrels of bread—you say there is fresh water ashore?”
“Blenty,” said the Dutchman.
“You can bring off the victuals when your job’s ended,” said I.