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Updated: June 22, 2025
"I don't give a tinker's hang what Thirkle says!" cried Buckrow, throwing down his end of the sack. "I'm here to say gold will rust if it's kept wet, and that's an end of it. Gold do rust, Thirkle or no Thirkle, and I say it." "All right," agreed Reddy. "Lay on, Bucky, and let's get this job over and done with!" "White-livered little fool!" I heard Thirkle mutter. "He doesn't dare do it!"
"Stow that gab, or I'll let a knife into yer hide!" snarled Buckrow, and he went over to the pile of sacks and began kicking the brown canvas nervously. Thirkle began to chuckle quietly, swaying his shoulders from side to side in his simulated hilarity. Petrak, who was standing close to him, looked at him in surprise.
Likely he has an agreement with the black gang to stick to the fireroom; but whatever it is he won't keep his word. It's death for every man Jack of 'em when he has finished with 'em." Long Jim was plying the needle again, and Buckrow and Thirkle were holding a conference at the wheel and studying a chart.
"Soon enough ye'll find out what I mean, Thirkle; that's what. If the two of ye think yer going to side together ag'in' me, well and good; but look out for Bad Buckrow, I say. I'll make my meanin' blasted clear, too. Mind that." "My jaw's broke!" cried Petrak, struggling to his feet, breathing hard.
The brush on the top of the cliff overlapped the crevice, so that it was quite dark a few feet from the entrance. The walls were slippery with a thick, funguslike moss, from which cool water dripped. "That gold will rust in here sure as a nigger's black," grumbled Buckrow, as he felt his way out. "I don't like this place at all." "Best place on the island," whispered Thirkle.
The stuff's no good here the job's not done yet, but I'll get ye all clear now if ye mind me and keep sober in port. Shake, old mate, and let's be friends again." He held out his hand to Buckrow, who took it, but awkwardly. I could see that he feared Thirkle, even unarmed, and knew him for his master.
"He wanted to do for ye, Thirkle," said Petrak, flattered by his master and unable to see the sly sarcasm of Thirkle in his joy at being assured of his position, and of getting his share of the gold. "I never give him the chance, Thirkle. Now if it was some say Buckrow or Long Jim, they might give him a gun, but not Petrak.
The tangle of ropes which Buckrow had put on my ankles caught in loose stones and chafed the flesh until the blood came; and my wrists, pulled down with tight knots, which I had to strain against to keep my balance, throbbed and pained and tingled, my arms being numbed by the blood in the bound arteries.
Buckrow, I mean every word I say," declared Thirkle, and he meant it, for the shrewd rascal was talking for his life. "There's gold enough here for all of us, and we'll divide it now, and each take his share and split it to the dollar. Leave it to me and I'll get it off for you, safe and easy; but try to go it alone and the two of ye'll hang. Hang! Understand that, Reddy?
We're all good chaps, and Thirkle's A No. 1, and we got the gold to stow." "Don't come no bos'n manners to me," retorted Buckrow savagely. "I ain't goin' to stand for none such from ye, Red. Yer sidin' with Thirkle, and I know that, and I'm as good a man as Thirkle; and I'm boss here, even or no even. I'm boss! Understand that?
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