hat you had quite run out of tinned meats and nearly out of coffee."
"So I have; but I don't care about going on board for all that" Then looking the two men straight in the face, he drank off the gin, set the mug down on the table, and resumed, "I saw by my glass that that damned, cut-throat blackbirder, Bilker, is her skipper. That's enough for me. I heard that the infernal scoundrel got ten years in gaol. Sorry he wasn't hanged."
"Vy," said the German, whose face was considerably flushed by the liquor he had been drinking, "you vas in der plackpird drade yourselves von dime."
"So I was, Peter," said Blount quietly, "but we did the thing honestly, fairly and squarely. I, and those with me, when I was in the labour trade, never stole a nigger, nor killed one. This fellow Bilker was a disgrace to every white man in the trade. He is a notorious, cold-blooded murderer."
The conversation fell a bit flat after this, for Mr. Burrowes and Mr. Schwartzkoff began to feel uncomfort