"Should not we have been imbeciles to sacrifice these beauties?" he cried, viewing the watch and snuff-box with a rapturous grin.
"They were hard to come at, I expect?"
"No," he answered, pocketing them and turning to a piece of beef in the oven. "I knocked away the ice and after a little wrenching got at the pockets. But poor Trentanove! d'ye know, his nose came away with the mask of ice! He is no longer lovely to the sight!" He broke into a guffaw, then stuffed his mouth full and talked in the intervals of chewing. "There was nothing worth taking on Barros. They are both overboard."
"Overboard!" I cried.
"Why, yes," said he. "They are no good on deck. I stood them against the rail, then tipped them over."
This was an illustration of his strength I did not much relish.
"I doubt if I could have lifted Barros," said I.
"Not you!" he exclaimed, running his eye over me. "A dead Dutchman would have the weight of a fairy alongside Barros."
"Well, Mr. Tassard," said I, "since you are so strong, you will be very useful to our scheme. There is much to be done."
"Give me a sketch of your plans, that I may understand you," he exclaimed, continuing to eat very heartily.