“ Yes,” said one, “that's Flint, sure enough. J. F., and a score below, with a clove hitch to it; so he done ever.”
“ Mighty pretty,” said George. “But how are we to get away with it, and us no ship.”
Silver suddenly sprang up, and supporting himself with a hand against the wall: “Now I give you warning, George,” he cried. “One more word of your sauce, and I'll call you down and fight you. How? Why, how do I know? You had ought to tell me that—you and the rest, that lost me my schooner, with your interference, burn you! But not you, you can't; you hain't got the invention of a cockroach. But civil you can speak, and shall, George Merry, you may lay to that.”
“ That's fair enow,” said the old man Morgan.
“ Fair! I reckon so,” said the sea-cook. “You lost the ship; I found the treasu
