More went to this document than I need trouble you with. I watched him while he wrote. There was an expression of enthusiasm in his face, as though he found a sort of joy in writing freely about thousands of dollars. “Should it prove a dream,” thought I, stooping to caress Galloon, who lay at my feet, “what will the jolly Dutch and English hearts of this brig say when we arrive at the island--if such an island exists!--and find not only no ship, but not even a cave?” But the vision of Tulp came to the rescue again. A specter, formed mainly of a leering eye, a sleek and wary grin, and a velvet cap, seemed to gaze at me from behind Greaves; and I pocketed the document with a feeling that almost rose to conviction after I had read it, at my friend’s request, and thanked him very warmly for his kindness and for his friendly and particular interest in me. We sat talking over what had passed between him and the crew. “One point,” said he, “I believe I have scored: I have made them understand that the fewer they are the richer they will be. I hope this notion may not lead to some of them chucking the others overboard. They’ll all stick to the ship till the island is reached and the dollars are stowed. _Afterward_ will be my anxious time. But the adventure must be gone through, and it remains also to be seen whether the brig is not to be navigated during the homeward run by fewer men than we now carry. The fewer the better. I should wish to see six men forward--no more--and three of us aft, for Jimmy is to be reckoned as a cabin hand, and, saving Bol and Wirtz, there’s not a man, in my humble opinion, whose spine that knock-kneed, shambling, slobbered Cockney lad--a creature you would set down as a funeral-and-wedding idiot merely--has not the strength to snap.” Soon afterward we went to supper, for at sea the last meal is so called, and in the cabin we supped at half-past five; at six I relieved Yan Bol. The men seemed to be waiting for him to come off duty. They were smoking and talking round about their favorite haunt--the caboose. Some of them were so hairy and some of them so flat of countenance that it was impossible to gather what was in their minds from the looks of them. Bol went into the caboose, whence presently issued a quantity of tobacco smoke in a procession of puffs. I heard his voice rumbling; it was like the groaning of a distant tempest. I was too far aft to hear what he said, and there was likewise much noise of wind in the rigging, and a shrill lashing of brine alongside.