Then the quarrel began.
"If you hadn't held us pokin' over them old sacks on the rocks there
we'd maybe have had a chance of over-haulin' her," said Ginnell.
"Sacks," cried Blood, "what are you talking about; it was you who let
them go, shouting good day to them and telling them we'd got the
boodle!"
"Boodle, b'g-d!" cried Ginnell. "You're a nice chap to talk about
boodle. You did me in an' collared me boat, and now you're let down
proper, and serve you right."
Blood was about to reply in kind, when the dispute was cut short by a
loud yell from the engine-room hatch.
Harman, having satisfied himself with a glance that all was up with the
junk, had gone poking about and entered the engine-room hatchway. He
now appeared, shouting like a maniac.
"The dollars," he cried, "two dead Chinkies an' the dollars."
He vanished again with a shout, they rushed to the hatch, and there, on
the steel grating leading to the ladder, curled together like two cats
that had died in battle, lay the Chinamen, Harman kneeling beside them,
his hands at work on the neck of a tied sack that chinked as he shook
it with the glorious rich, mellow sound that gold in bulk and gold in
specie alone can give.
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