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Sim Price observed old man John Duckett, in the excitement, shooting his rifle high over the heads of the Yankees. This was too much for Sim Price, and he said, "Good God, John Duckett, are you shooting at the moon?"
How did the crew know of the treasure?" "Chalk told you," responded the obedient Duckett. "And if he told you and he can't deny it why not them?" Captain Briskett nodded approval. "It's all right as far as I can see," he said, cautiously. "But mind. Leave the telling of it to me. You can just chip in with little bits here and there. Now let's get under way."
"Shipped four white men at Viti Levu and sailed for home," continued Mr. Duckett. "Could have had more, but wanted to save owners' pockets, and worked like A.B.'s ourselves to do so." "Let'em upset that if they can," said Brisket, with a confident smile. "The crew are scattered, and if they happened to get one of them it's only his word against ours. Wait a bit.
"Duckett sent it ashore," said Brisket. "Thinking that there was men's work ahead, and that the ladies might be in the way, he put it over the side and sent it back. And mind, believing what he did, I'm not saying he wasn't in the right." Mr. Chalk again professed his inability to make head or tail of the proceedings.
Stobell, ever willing for a free show, stared at the dismal man and groped in the recesses of his memory. The name seemed familiar. "The man who ate three dozen hard-boiled eggs in four minutes?" he asked, with a little excitement natural in the circumstances. Captain Brisket stared at him. "No; Peter Duckett, the finest mate that ever sailed," he said, with a flourish.
Because Sam Betts was standing by when you told me you'd made a mistake in your reckoning and said we'd better go ashore and tell them." "That's all right so far, I think," said Brisket, nodding. "We sailed about and tried island after island just to satisfy the men and seize our opportunity," continued Mr. Duckett, with a weary air.
Duckett raised his cap, and tugging at a small patch of reddish-brown hair strangely resembling a door-mat in texture, which grew at the base of his chin, cleared his throat and said it was a fine morning. "Not much of a talker is Peter," said the genial Brisket. "He's a doer; that's what he is-a doer. Now, if you're willing and I hope you are he'll come aboard with us and talk the matter over."
Chalk looked forward again and nearly dropped his rifle as he saw three or four tousled heads protruding from the galley. Instinctively he took a step towards Mr. Duckett, and instinctively that much-enduring man threw up his hands and cried to him not to shoot. Mr. Chalk, pale of face and trembling of limb, strove to reassure him.
Tredgold, Brisket, and Stobell dodged behind the galley, and Mr. Chalk was left to gaze in open-mouthed wonder at the shrinking figure of Mr. Duckett at the wheel. They regarded each other in silence, until a stealthy step behind Mr. Chalk made him turn round smartly. Mr. Stobell, who was stealing up to secure him, dodged hastily behind the mainmast. "Stobell!" cried Mr. Chalk, faintly.
There was a hurried confabulation between hostess and guest, the upshot of which was that Balzac, falling into the snare, came to the man, thinking that some generous friend had sent him the money; and he was immediately served with an arrest-warrant for debt. "I am caught," he cried; "but I will pillory Duckett for this. He shall go down to posterity with infamy attached to his name."
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