“Our scheme’s this, sir. We want you to carry the brig to Amsterdam Island, where we mean to heave the brig to, weather allowing, land the silver, bury it, and sail away for New Holland.” “Out with it all, Tom,” said Travers. “There’s a party as is settled at Port Jackson,” continued Teach. “He’s a relation of mine. He’ll do for us men what Mr. Tulp did for Captain Greaves; if this brig’s to be given up, he’ll find us a schooner or some such craft. We’ll fetch the silver in her, and he’ll receive it, and divide it among us, making a share for himself. His share’ll be what our’n is, no more nor less. That’ll be right. We find him the money and he finds us the vessel, and it’s share and share alike. I am for fair dealing. Straight was straight with me afore I went to sea; I wor straight as a little ’un; straight’s the word still; and I han’t kinked yet. What are we doing? Robbing any man of his rights?” cried he, looking around into the faces of the others. “I say no. The captain’s dead. If he were alive his rights ’ud carry the brig home, barring events. But he’s dead; his money falls into shares for us men to take up--for us men and you, sir. As for Mr. Tulp--look here. Suppose he never hears again of the brig? Is this a-going to break any man’s heart? How is he to know that we’ve got the silver? How is he to know Captain Greaves’ yarn warn’t a lie? What’s his venture? Just the cost of the hiring of this brig. Well, by our not turning up we save him in wages. That’s wrote off, and that means pounds in good money. The brig don’t turn up, and what then; she’s gone to the bottom; she’s been taken. It’ll hentertain Mr. Tulp when he aint hard at work making money, to guess what’s become of us; and how’ll our mysterious disappearance leave him? Vy, one of the richest gents in the city o’ Amsterdam.” Every eye was fastened upon my face while Teach addressed me. The fellows’ looks were eloquent with expectation that I should be instantly convinced, satisfied, impressed, eager to execute their wishes. Jimmy was staring at us out of the door of the caboose and I called to him: “Fetch me the bag of charts and a pair of compasses.” He brought the things. I found a chart of the world--a track chart. “Spread this on the skylight,” said I, giving it to Teach. He and Travers held it open on the skylight. “Do you know the situation of the brig at this moment?” said I. The men drew shouldering round me to look; Yan Bol stooped his huge form and ran his wide and heavy face over the chart, his nose within an inch of it as though he hunted for a flea. Not a man could point to, nay, not a man had the least idea of, the place of the brig on the chart. “Here’s where we are now,” said I, “and here’s Amsterdam Island.” They huddled yet closer in a hairy, warm, hard-breathing group to look at the island. “There it is, and here are we. Can you collect sea distances by looking on a chart?” “No.”