‘Why,’ said the carpenter with a short laugh, ‘what we’ve resolved on is to sail to that there island and get the money.’ ‘No good in leaving all that money to lie there for the savages to dig up,’ exclaimed one of the men. ‘Mr. Lush,’ said I, ‘I am a stranger in this ship, and have but one desire, and that is, to leave her along with the young lady who was my fellow-passenger aboard the Indiaman. You will of course do what you will with the vessel. The action of the crew can make no part of my business. All that I ask is that you will signal the first vessel we fall in with, let her be heading as she will, and tranship us.’ A growling ‘No!’ ran amongst the men. The carpenter echoed it with a blow of his fist upon the table. ‘No, sir! we can’t spare you. It’ll be _you_, Mr. Dugdale, that’ll carry us to that island.’ My consternation was too visible to be missed even by the ignorant eyes which were bent upon me. ‘You’ll be treated fairly, sir,’ said one of the men, with an air and tone of conciliation. ‘We’ve allowed for you being a gent as’ll be carried away from the parts he wants to git to, Mr. Lush and us men have talked it well over, and the share of the money ye choose to name is the share you shall have for the time and trouble this bit of navigation’ll cost you.’ A murmur of assent followed this speech, several heads nodding so vehemently that their hair danced about their eyes. ‘But, men,’ I cried, turning upon and addressing them in a body, ‘you are surely not going to persuade me that you _believe_ in this yarn of the captain?’ ‘Don’t you?’ inquired the carpenter with a sarcastic sneer. ‘It was the imagination of a madman,’ I continued—‘a crazy fancy, men! Surely there is no sailor here but knew that the captain was insane. Did not his actions, his talk, his very looks, prove him mad? And what more convincing proof of his insanity could you desire than the last act of his life?’ Two or three of the fellows grumbled out something, but I did not catch the words. ‘Mad, was he?’ exclaimed the carpenter in a voice of coarse, morose sarcasm; ‘ye didn’t think that when you stood out for a share.’ ‘How do you know,’ I cried, ‘that I stood out for a share?’ ‘By God, then,’ he roared, ‘we know everything! Did ye or did ye not sign an agreement for a share?’ ‘I did,’ I answered, ‘but merely to humour the man’s madness. I should have left the ship at Rio.’