It'll take two men to get them
dollars on deck and down to the wather side. When you've done that,
the pair of you will walk into the ould man's cabin an' say your
prayers, thanking the saints you've got off so easy, whiles I puts the
bolt on you till the dollars are away. And remimber this, one word or
kick from you and I shoot--the Chinamen will never tell."
"See here," said Harman.
"One word!" shouted Ginnell, suddenly dropping the mask of urbanity and
levelling the pistol.
It was as though the tiger-cat in his grimy soul had suddenly burst
bonds and mastered him. His finger pressed on the trigger and the next
moment Harman's brains, or what he had of them, might have been
literally forenint him on the table, when suddenly, tremendous as the
last trumpet, paralysing as the inrush of a body of armed men, booing
and bellowing back from the cliffs in a hundred echoes came a
voice--the blast of a ship's syren.
"Huroop, Hirrip, Hurop, Haar--Haar--Haar!"
Ginnell's arm fell. Harman, forgetting everything, turned, dashed into
the cabin behind him, climbed on the upper bunk, and stuck his head
through the port-hole.
Then he dashed back into the saloon.
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