‘You now have what the captain explained to me,’ said I; ‘but he was a madman, men; and I take God to witness that though this island may be real, the money is the coinage of a diseased mind.’ ‘Yet ye would not stir till you had made him agree to give you a share,’ said the carpenter. ‘Boys, back to your places whilst I delivers the resolution we have all of us made up our minds to.’ The sailors hurriedly resumed their seats. The carpenter gazed slowly round, then addressed me with his eyes in the corner of their sockets whilst his face pointed straight down the table. ‘We’re here without a capt’n,’ he began, ‘and though this barque ain’t ourn, we mean to use her. We don’t intend no act of piracy. When we’ve got the gold, we’ll deliver up the ship and her cargo, which we shan’t meddle with. We’re all of us working men, and the money in that there island fairly distributed’ll make all hands of us independent for life. There’s no more inwolved than the job of fetching it, and that’s to be easily managed.’ The men nodded emphatically. ‘You’re a navigator, Mr. Dugdale, and we can’t do without ye. There’s no good in talking of shipping another man in your place, because, d’ ye see, that ‘ud oblige us either to communicate with a passing vessel or to put into some port, neither of which is to be hentertained, seeing the nature of the secret which is ourn, and which we mean to keep ourn. We’re agreeable to con-sider any tarms ye may think proper to propose. As has bin said, the share ye name is the share ye’ll have. Ye shall be capt’n, and treated as capt’n. You and the lady shall live in this here part of the ship without mollystation, as the saying is; and ye’ll find us a perlite and willing crew, who’ll stick to our side of the compact as _you_ stick to yourn. The money ye’ll get by this job, gent as ye are, will repay both you and the lady for loss o’ time and for work done. This here barque knows how to sail, and neither me nor you’ll spare her; for we’re now in a hurry and this voyage can’t end too quickly to please us all. Them’s our tarms, which ye can put into writing if you please, and we’ll write our marks agin it. There must be no communicating with ships; and _ye’ve got to be honest_!’ He said this with a sudden frown, looking full at me. ‘Is that your mind, men?’ There was a hurricane response of ‘Ay, ay! That’s right; that’s right.’ ‘Give me a little while to consider,’ said I, observing that the carpenter had come to an end. ‘By when will we have your answer?’ he demanded. ‘By noon.’ ‘Agreed,’ he exclaimed. ‘Here’s your two documents. I’ll take charge of this here chart.’ A few minutes later I was alone. CHAPTER XXXIV I ASSENT