“The ship gets half,” continued Greaves. “I as commander get two-thirds of the remainder.” “How much is that?” “Thirty-six thousand pounds.” I whistled low and long. “The mate,” proceeded he, “not Van Laar, but the mate--” he paused and looked at me with an expression of significant attention; “the mate gets one-third of the remainder--thirty thousand five hundred and fifty-six dollars, or six thousand one hundred and eleven pounds.” He read these figures from his little book. “A good haul for the mate,” said I. “The balance of sixty-one odd thousand dollars,” he went on, “goes to the men according to their rating. This they will receive over and above their wages, which average from three to six pounds a month.” “I think Mr. Tulp’s division into shares very fair,” said I. “Now,” said he, “why do I tell you all this? Why am I revealing to you what not a living soul on board knows or even suspects?” I regarded him in silence. “Cannot you anticipate the proposal I intend to make? Will you take Van Laar’s place on board my brig, and act as my mate?” I started from my chair. Not for an instant had I suspected that his motive in telling me his story was to enable him to make this offer. I started with so much vehemence that Galloon growled, stirred, and elevated his ears. “It is a magnificent proposal,” said I. “It is an offer of six thousand pounds.” “More,” he interrupted. “Your wages will be ten pounds a month.” “I do not like the idea,” said I after a pause, “of taking Van Laar’s place.” “From him, do you mean?” “From him, of course. The post is another thing.” “It is I,” said he, “not you, who take it from him. Now, pray, distinctly understand this, Fielding, that, whether you accept or not, Van Laar will shortly cease to be my mate. If you refuse then Yan Bol comes aft, and Laar either takes his place or goes home in the first ship we meet.” He spoke with a hard face and some severity of voice. It was quite clear that his mind was resolved, so far as Van Laar’s relations with the brig was concerned. “It is a fine offer,” said I. “You will give me time to think it over, I hope?” “What time do you require?” I again looked at the little clock. “I shall be able to see my way in a few hours, I hope.” “That is not sailor fashion,” said he, stepping to a quadrant case and taking the instrument up out of it. “A sailor jumps; he never deliberates.” “I have no clothes save what I am wearing,” said I. “We are well stocked with slops,” he exclaimed. “Dutch-made, to be sure, but they are good togs.” “I am without nautical instruments,” said I, looking at the quadrant which he held. “I have three of these,” he answered, “and one is at your service.” I rose and took a turn, full of thought, wishing to say “Yes” but wishing to consider, too.