“Little they know we can’t bite!” said he. While they were at this, however, and the two English ships running into the cove, Frontin fell suddenly to laughing and pointed to a man in the bows of the bark, which was the nearer craft. “There’s Bose--ha! Crawford has brought us the ships and men.” Oaths and sour curses changed to yells of mad delight, which were answered from the two ships; and these ran down and anchored a cable-length away. A boat put off from the ketch, with Crawford in her, and picked up Bose from the bark. When Vanderberg saw all his old men coming in the boat, and other men still aboard the bark, he swore with mad joy that Crawford should have an extra share of the gold, to which the other men joined their vote. But Frontin stood to one side, his glittering eyes hard and cold, and a saturnine smile just touching his thin lips. Crawford came over the rail, Bose and the men poured aboard, and there was pandemonium for a while, stories bawled forth, chests and gold to be stared at, rum to be swigged. Crawford looked at the loot and turned away with a cool shrug, exchanged a glance with Frontin, and found Vanderberg tugging at his sleeve and squinting at the two craft. “What men are those? Where did ye find ’em? The ketch is a prize,” he said. “Ay, a Bostonnais--a fur-pirate, blown out of her course by storm. When her cap’n and officers were pistoled, she gave in,” said Crawford. “Eleven men left alive aboard her who are glad enough to go pirating under Vanderberg or Crawford. On the bark I have eight Irishmen who care naught for Vanderberg but much for Crawford.” “Damme and sink me!” roared Vanderberg delightedly, and smote him between the shoulders. “Come down to the cabin and talk in peace.” They went below and settled about the table, leaving the eager men to smash the mahogany chests with axes. Frontin brought what was left of the Spanish wine, and a rare old drink it was; Crawford made his own tale brief, and listened to Vanderberg’s tale, and presently Bose came down to hear, fists full of gold and a wide grin on his face. The other men drifted down by ones and twos, until they were all crowded into the cabin and some with gold bars, others with coin found in one of the chests. Crawford sipped at the Spanish wine but refused to drink heavily. In his manner was a certain constraint, a cold and imperturbable air of waiting; as he listened to Vanderberg’s ranting about roaming the Indies with his squadron and mayhap taking aboard more men and sacking some Spanish town on the main, a smile tugged at his lips and his blue eyes glinted frostily. Presently this mien of his impinged upon Vanderberg’s perception, so that the captain turned to him with an oath. “What’s in you, Crawford? Hast no warmth in life? Come, down with the wine and we’ll go aboard the bark and take possession.” “Nay,” said Crawford. “Our ways part here.”