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He and Mac had played and won like gamblers; the mingled gold and silver lay by their places in the heap. Amalu and Hemstead had each more than held their own, but Tommy was cruel far to leeward, and the captain was reduced to perhaps fifty pounds. "I say, let's knock off," said Carthew.
This, with the three pound fourteen already in the heel, made a total of seven pounds one shilling. "I'll tell you," said Wicks. "Let Carthew and Tommy and me take one pound apiece, and Hemstead and Amalu split the other four, and toss up for the odd bob." "O, rot!" said Carthew. "Tommy and I are bursting already. We can take half a sov. each, and let the other three have forty shillings."
Amalu and Mac, both ingrained sailor-men, had chests which were the headquarters of their lives; two more chests with handbags, oilskins, and blankets supplied the others; Hadden, amid general applause, added the last case of the brown sherry; the captain brought the log, instruments, and chronometer; nor did Hemstead forget the banjo or a pinned handkerchief of Butaritari shells.
Here are the names on the register; perhaps you would care to look at them while I go and see about the baggage?" Amalu. "Pinkerton," said I, suddenly, "have you that Occidental in your pocket?" "Never left me," said Pinkerton, producing the paper. I turned to the account of the wreck. "Here," said I; "here's the name. 'Elias Goddedaal, mate. Why do we never come across Elias Goddedaal?"
Amalu passed him a box, and he went aft and down the companion and into the cabin, stumbling upon bodies. Then he struck a match, and his looks fell upon two living eyes. "Well?" asked Mac, for it was he who still survived in that shambles of a cabin. "It's done; they're all dead," answered Carthew. "Christ!" said the Irishman, and fainted.
If that's a man-of-war, she'll be in a tearing hurry; all these ships are what don't do nothing and have their expenses paid. That's our chance; for we'll go with them, and they won't take the time to look twice or to ask a question. I'm Captain Trent; Carthew, you're Goddedaal; Tommy, you're Hardy; Mac's Brown; Amalu Hold hard! we can't make a Chinaman of him!
Amalu passed him a box, and he went aft and down the companion and into the cabin, stumbling upon bodies. Then he struck a match, and his looks fell upon two living eyes. "Well?" asked Mac, for it was he who still survived in that shambles of a cabin. "It's done; they're all dead," answered Carthew. "Christ!" said the Irishman, and fainted.
All this time they had been drinking undiluted gin like water; three bottles stood broached in different quarters; and none passed without a gulp. Tommy collapsed against the mainmast; Wicks fell on his face on the poop ladder and moved no more; Amalu had vanished unobserved.
Of these Tommy could claim five hundred and ten, Carthew one hundred and seventy, Wicks one hundred and forty, and Hemstead and Amalu ten apiece: eight hundred and forty "lays" in all. What was the value of a lay? This was at first debated in the air, and chiefly by the strength of Tommy's lungs.
Plainly, then, the cook had been a Chinaman; and, if so, who was Jos. Amalu? Or had Jos. stolen the chest before he proceeded to ship under a false name and domicile? It was possible, as anything was possible in such a welter; but, regarded as a solution, it only led and left me deeper in the bog.
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