“And now we're alone and can talk,” said he. “What's this thing about? It's been advertised like Barnum's museum; that poster of yours has set the Front talking; that's an objection in itself, for I'm laying a little dark just now; and anyway, before I take the ship, I require to know what I'm going after.” Thereupon Pinkerton gave him the whole tale, beginning with a businesslike precision, and working himself up, as he went on, to the boiling-point of narrative enthusiasm. Nares sat and smoked, hat still on head, and acknowledged each fresh feature of the story with a frowning nod. But his pale blue eyes betrayed him, and lighted visibly. “Now you see for yourself,” Pinkerton concluded: “there's every last chance that Trent has skipped to Honolulu, and it won't take much of that fifty thousand dollars to charter a smart schooner down to Midway. Here's where I want a man!” cried Jim, with contagious energy. “That wreck's mine; I've paid for it, money down; and if it's got to be fought for, I want to see it fought for lively. If you're not back in ninety days, I tell you plainly, I'll make one of the biggest busts ever seen upon this coast; it's life or death for Mr. Dodd and me. As like as not, it'll come to grapples on the island; and when I heard your name last night--and a blame' sight more this morning when I saw the eye you've got in your head--I said, 'Nares is good enough for me!'” “I guess,” observed Nares, studying the ash of his cigar, “the sooner I get that schooner outside the Farallones, the better you'll be pleased.” “You're the man I dreamed of!” cried Jim, bouncing on the bed. “There's not five per cent of fraud in all your carcase.” “Just hold on,” said Nares. “There's another point. I heard some talk about a supercargo.” “That's Mr. Dodd, here, my partner,” said Jim. “I don't see it,” returned the captain drily. “One captain's enough for any ship that ever I was aboard.” “Now don't you start disappointing me,” said Pinkerton; “for you're talking without thought. I'm not going to give you the run of the books of this firm, am I? I guess not. Well, this is not only a cruise; it's a business operation; and that's in the hands of my partner. You sail that ship, you see to breaking up that wreck and keeping the men upon the jump, and you'll find your hands about full. Only, no mistake about one thing: it has to be done to Mr. Dodd's satisfaction; for it's Mr. Dodd that's paying.” “I'm accustomed to give satisfaction,” said Mr. Nares, with a dark flush. “And so you will here!” cried Pinkerton. “I understand you. You're prickly to handle, but you're straight all through.” “The position's got to be understood, though,” returned Nares, perhaps a trifle mollified. “My position, I mean. I'm not going to ship sailing-master; it's enough out of my way already, to set a foot on this mosquito schooner.”