"I tell you," said Rawlings, in a cold, sneering tone, as he leant over the table with his chin resting on his hands, and looking at Barradas--"I tell you that it will have to be done before we can take this ship into port again."
"Mother of God!" said Barradas passionately, "he is a good fellow, and I won't do it. No more such bloody work for me, Rawlings."
Rawlings picked up his half-smoked cigar from the table, and puffed at it in silence for a few seconds. Then he laid it down again, and his black eyes gleamed with suppressed fury as he looked at the Spaniard. But he spoke calmly.
"And I tell you again that no one of us will ever be safe. If he lives, something will come out some day--it always does, my brave and tender-hearted Manuel. You and I have been lucky so far in smaller mat
