“‘Why, where on airth could he run her to, I want to know?” said the cooper. “If her invoice were drugs and spices, now—or teas and silks, as in her old days, you might talk; but, as I take it, old head, it would be hard to find a market in any quarter of the world, barrin’ Europe and the States, for sich a cargo of sparm ile as we’ve under hatches.’ “‘So you think, my lad,’ retorted the carpenter, coolly, ‘’cause, old as you are, you ar’n’t up to half the deviltry afloat now-a-days.’ “‘Mayhap, now, you ha’n’t forgot that old nob, with the powdered head and the long cue, which were as thick as three in a berth, with the skipper, at Pernambuke?’ “‘Lord love you, no, Charley,’ answered his crony. ‘I remembers him well enough, by reason of the half-doubloon which he give the boat’s crew for pickin’ up three of his niggers, when wild Frank capsized their canoe in the harbor.’ “‘Well, then,’ continued Charley, ‘Don Josey Maria were his name, and the richest senor he were, they said, between the _Recife_ and the Rio.’ “‘Well, Chips, what then?’ asked the cooper. “‘Why,’ answered the other, as coolly as before, ‘it’s my belief, growin’ in me, the whull v’y’ge, out of things as has turned up, one arter another, that ship and cargo were as good as sold to that aire old Portagee, afore we left the bloody Brazil coast behind.’ “‘Why, Charley, man,’ said the cooper, in a startled voice, ‘sure, you don’t mean to say that _now_, and you niver broached a thought of it afore.’ “‘Why, you see, my hearties, I were watchin’ all along to see how the cat jumped, seein’ that the skipper be nyther one to be skeared out of his course by a trifle, nor fathomed with a bit o’ dry yarn like a pump-well. I’m cock-sure of it now—but, hark’e in your ears—one word from me, when we gits up with the Cape, will block his game, deep as he is, and sot that aire manhandlin’, pirate-huntin’ Mister Miller—as he calls hisself—at t’other one’s throat like a Bingal tiger. “‘Hows’iver, jist travel aft, Bungs, an’ strike the bell, whiles the doctor hands out the grog and the prog—I reckon by that aire screechin’, which aire none o’ the pleasantest, that the cholery’s set his claws on more o’ the heathen.’ “I kept my seat while the man went aft and struck the bell, the dismal echoes of the rocks drowning, for a moment, the faint cries to which the carpenter had alluded. Just as the man came back three or four heads were thrust in succession up the forecastle ladder, and as many of the larboard watch clustered round the opposite door of the galley. The fellow who had broken into the cabin was among them, and recognizing the others as old hands, I sat close for a few moments longer, although almost despairing now of learning the magical word by which old Charley was to set the captain and I by the ears.