Part 43 (1/2)

”Maybe, jest as well ye didn't, Master Blew. Me an' Bill Davis tried that dodge; we went all the way to the was.h.i.+n's on Feather River; but foun' no gold, only plenty o' hard work, wi' precious little to eat, an'

less in the way o' drink. Neyther o' us likin' the life, we put back for the port.”

For all his frankness in confessing to the cat-o'-nine tails on board a wars.h.i.+p, Striker says nothing about a rope of a different kind he and his chum Davis were very near getting around their necks on the banks of that same Feather River, and from which they escaped by a timely retreat upon ”'Frisco.”

”Well,” rejoins Blew, in a tone of resignation; ”as you say, maybe I've did the wisest thing after all, in not goin' that way. I might 'a come back empty-handed, same as yerself an' Davis. Ye say liquor war scarce up there. That 'ud never 'a done for me. I must have my reg'lar allowance, or--. Well, no use sayin' what. As an old man-o'-war's man you can can understan' me, Striker. An' as the same, I suppose you won't object to a tot now?”

”Two, for that matter,” promptly responds Striker, like all his sort-- drouthy.

”Well; here's a drop o' rum--the best Santa Cruz. Help yourself!”

Blew presents a black-jack bottle to the helmsman, who, detaching one hand from the spokes, takes hold of the bottle. Then, raising it to his lips, and keeping it there for a prolonged spell, returns it to its owner, who, for the sake of sociability, takes a pull himself. All this done, the dialogue is renewed, and progresses in even a more friendly way than before; the Santa Cruz having opened the heart of the Sydney Duck to a degree of familiarity; while, on his side, the mate, throwing aside all reserve, lets himself down to a level with the foremast-man.

It ends in their establis.h.i.+ng a confidence, mutual and complete, of that character known as ”thickness between thieves.”

Blew first strikes the chord that puts their spirits _en rapport_, by saying:

”Ye tell me, Striker, that ye've had hard times an' some severe punishment. So's had Harry Blew. An' ye say ye don't care about that.

No more cares he. In that we're both o' us in the same boat. An' now we're in the same s.h.i.+p--you a sailor afore the mast, I first officer-- but for all the difference in our rank, we can work thegether. An'

there's a way we can both o' us do better. Do you want me to tell it ye?”

”Ay, ay; tell it. Jack Striker's ears are allus open to 'ear 'ow he can better his sittivation in life. I'm a listener.”

”All right. I've observed you're a good hand at the helm. Would ye be as good to go in for a job that'll put a pile o' money in your pocket?”

”That depends. Not on what sort o' job; I don't mean that. But what's the figger--the 'mount o' the money--how much?”

”Puttin' it in gold, as much as you can carry; ay, enough to make you stagger under it.”

”An' you ask if I'm good for a job like that? Funny question to ask--it are; 'specially puttin' it to ole Jack Striker. He's good for't--wi'

the gallows starin' him full in the face. Danged if he an't!”

”Well; I thought you wouldn't be the one to show basket-faced 'bout it.

It's a big thing I hev on hand, an' there'll be a fortin' for all who go in for it.”

”Show Jack Striker the chance o' goin' in, an' he'll show you a man as knows no backin' out.”

”Enough, s.h.i.+pmate. The chance is close to hand; aboard o' this s.h.i.+p.

Below, in her cabin-lockers, there's stowed somethin' like half a ton o'

glitterin' gold-dust. It belongs to the old Spaniard that's pa.s.senger.

What's to hinder us to lay hands on it? If we can only get enough o'

the crew to say _yes_, there needs be no difficulty. Them as won't 'll have to stan' aside. Though, from what I see o' them, it's like they'll all come in. Divided square round, there'd be atween twenty an' thirty thousand dollars apiece. Do that tempt ye. Striker?”

”Rayther. Wi' thirty thousand dollars I'd ne'er do another stroke o'

work.”

”You needn't then. You can have all o' that, by joinin' in, an' helpin'