The buzz of strange voices instantly hummed louder with a startled note.
"Hallo!"--"Can't see a mortal thing"--"Well, what next?"--insisted a
voice--"I want to know what next?"
Lingard checked himself ready to open the door and waited absurdly for
the answer as though in the hope of some suggestion. "What's up with
you? Think yourself lucky," said somebody.--"It's all very well--for
to-night," began the voice.--"What are you fashing yourself for?"
remonstrated the other, reasonably, "we'll get home right enough."--"I
am not so sure; the second mate he says--" "Never mind what he says;
that 'ere man who has got this brig will see us through. The owner's
wife will talk to him--she will. Money can do a lot." The two voices
came nearer, and spoke more distinctly, close behind Lingard. "Suppose
them blooming savages set fire to the yacht. What's to prevent
them?"--"And suppose they do. This 'ere brig's good enough to get away
in. Ain't she? Guns and all. We'll get home yet all right. What do you
say, John?"
"I say nothing and care less," said a third voice, peaceful and faint.
"D'you mean to say, John, you would go to the bottom as soon as you
would go home? Come now!"--"To the bottom," repeated the wan voice,
composedly. "Aye! That's where we all are going to, in one way or
another.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253