Part 25 (2/2)
”_There's_ the steamer--_out there_!” exclaimed Rock Cod. ”A man'd think----”
But he was cut short.
”You saw Mr. Crookenden put the bags aboard. He's the contractor--I'm only acting under his instructions. Do you wish to remain fishermen all your lives, or would you rather die rich?”
”We know the value of dollars, you may bet that,” answered Rock Cod.
”Then lend a hand and get these bags ash.o.r.e. And you, Macaroni, collect driftwood for a fire.”
When the mail-bags were all landed, Benjamin took a lantern from the boat, lit it, and walked up the beach to where the fishermen stood, nonplussed and wondering.
”Your feet must be wet, Macaroni.”
”_Si, signor._”
”Wet feet are bad, not to say dangerous. Go down to the boat, and you'll find a bottle of rum and a pannikin. Bring them here, and we'll have a dram all round.”
Tresco placed the lantern on the sand, and waited.
”You see, Rock Cod, there are some things in this world that cut both ways. To do a great good we must do a little wrong--that's not quite my own phrase, though it expresses my sentiments--but in anything you do, never do it by halves.”
”I ain't 'ad no schoolin' meself,” answered the fisherman. ”I don't take much account of books; but when there's a drop o' rum handy, I'm with you.”
The Italian came up the beach with the liquor.
”Here's what'll put us all in good nick,” said Tresco, as he drew the cork of the bottle, and poured some of the spirit into the pannikin.
”Here's luck,” and he drank his dram at a draught.
He generously replenished the cup, and handed it to Rock Cod.
”Well, cap'n,” said that puzzled barnacle, ”there's things I don't understand, but here's fun.” He took his liquor at a gulp, and pa.s.sed the pannikin to his mate.
It took the Italian no time to catch the drift that matters were taking.
”You expecta make me drunk, eh, signor? You steala ze mail an' carry him away, eh? Alla right, you try.”
”Now, look here,” said Tresco; ”it's this way. These bags want re-sorting--and I'm going to do it. If in the sorting I come across anything of importance, that's _my_ business. If, on the other hand, you happen across anything that you require, but which seems thrown away on other folks, that's _your_ business. If you don't like the bargain, you can both go and sit in the boat.”
Neither man moved. It was evident that Crookenden had chosen his tools circ.u.mspectly.
”Very good,” said Tresco, ”you have the run of your fingers over this mail when I have re-sorted it, provided you keep your heads shut when you get back to town. Is it a bargain?”
He held out his hand.
Rock Cod was the first to take it. He said:--
”It's a bargain, boss.”
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