They had not shaved for days, nor washed for years. The stink of them blew off the clean sea towards him. It seemed to his imagination that the water curdled with disgust as the brutes slushed through it. A phrase of his laughing mother's occurred to him--_no soap, no soul_. True too. He would have given all he had for a look at one clean-fleshed, clear- eyed Englishman, smelling of earth and honest tobacco. "Listen to im!" grumbled Red Beard. "Might be Cock o the Gang the way he carries on." The fat man tossed back his locks. "All mighty fine!" he shrilled. "But if you'd follow'd me, where'd you be now?--why back in Boulon. And cause you didn't, where are you?--why hung up on a dead foul leeshore: Diamond dead, lugger gone, the hue- and-cry up after you--" "And our only ope in eaven," chimed in Bandy of the chirpy voice. "And how'd stickin the Gentleman elp us?" grumbled the brutal Toadie. "I'd stuck him fast enough if I'd twigged that!" Fat George leaned forward. "What's the reward out agin him?--Thousand guineas, ain't it?" "Go on!--We'd never ha took him alive. You know his hackle." "Ah!" interposed the fat man, "but what d'ye think his corpse'd ha been worth to the British Government? him _and_ the papers on him, to say nothin o pickins for pore men, what nobody needn't know nothin about--them rings, that pin, and the bundle o notes in his tail-pocket." He combed his fingers through his locks. "What'd that ha been worth? I'll tell you." He wagged a fat finger. "A free pardon to h'every man h'all round, a free pass back to Boulon--" "And the thanks o Parlyment for what we done to the crew o the _Curlew_!" piped Bandy. "It's God's truth, I'm talkin!" screamed the fat man. "And there's the man what stood between you and it!" He flung a fat hand at Red Beard. The giant turned. "What, sell him!" he drawled. "Sell the man that made you; that trusted you; that never turned his back on a rat yet--much less a pal." He spat into the sea curling at his feet. "What was it old Diamond says?--'We're all--traitors,' says he, poor old horse; 'but we are men, only Fat George. And he's a--sow without a soul." A murmur of approval ran round. "You're right, Red Beard." "The Genelman were a genelman." "That he were!" came a chorus from the maingy crew. "Gentleman!" put in Bandy. "He were better. He were a--lord. I ought to know seein I rode for one--afore my misfortune." The boat had drifted sea-ward, the fat man giving an occasional sly dig. Suddenly he flung back into the oars. "Ave it your own way," he sang out. "Ole George ain't good enough for you, I see. I'll say good-day." The giant jerked his musket to his shoulder. "Come in!" he thundered. "Or I'll plug a hole through that great paunch o your'n." The fat man saw himself covered. He paddled back, grinning ghastly. "Avast there, Red Beard!" he tittered. "You're that asty. Can't you take a little joke?"