“Thou art right,” repeated the captain, with another sober nod.
“Now,” said I—“but let me ask your name?”
“Jonas Horsley,” he answered.
“Captain Horsley, this is my proposal: I want help; I want three or four men to enable me to carry this brig home. I also want to hand my prisoners over to you—the three of them, able-bodied fellows, as good as the best of your own hands, I daresay. Further, I want as much fresh water as you can spare. In return I’ll give you the clew to the burial-place in Amsterdam Island. If you sail promptly you’ll arrive before the fellows depart. They’re bound to wait awhile for a ship before taking their chance, six of them, in an open boat, every man ignorant which way to head for land, even if they had a compass. Furthermore, that you may make sure of my gratitude, you shall take a case of the dollars in the lazarette.”
The señorita’s eyes sparkled. She vehemently nodded approval. Captain Horsley viewed me steadily, with an expressionless countenance.
“Friend,” said he, after a short pause, “might the chests in thy lazarette be all of a size?”
“They slightly vary.”
“And the biggest might contain——?”
“About four thousand dollars,” said I.
He continued to regard me expressionlessly; his composure raised my anxiety into torment. My lady’s face worked with half a dozen emotions at every heart-beat.