“There’s no doubt about the situation of the island, I suppose?” said Reuben.
“No.”
“Let’s look at that there Spanish writing again.”
Christian produced the snuff-box and Reuben opened the paper.
“Are you cocksure,” said Reuben, fastening his eyes upon the dim scrawl, “that that there Pedro, as you call him, gave you the right meaning of this writing?”
“Yes; and there was my own ixpurrience to back his varsion.”
“I’m rather for having it made into English again, Christian,” said Reuben, thoughtfully. “Young Jones down at Consul Hammond’s office speaks Spanish. What d’yer say?”
“No; I’m not a-going to trust any man but yourself with the secret. See here: if we come back rich—as’ll follow—and you’ve bin meanwhile and shown that there paper to some one who understands it, what’ll be thought? The gaff’ll be blowed; the relaytives of that there Mary Ann’ll be getting wind of our haul, and’ll come upon us for the jewels.”
This and the like reasoning satisfied Reuben, who presently returned the paper to Christian, and, after drinking a final glass of grog, the two brothers went to bed.