Bert raised his head: "How do you mean, then, Skipper?"
"Well, all we got to do is help ourselves, ain't it?"
"Help ourselves? It ain't quite so simple as that, I don't reckon. What about when he comes round and finds they ain't in his pocket?"
Dukey was puzzled: "What can he do about it, then? You ain't scared of him, are you? We're three to one, after all."
"What can he do?" said Bert. "Well, I'll tell you what I'd do in his place. I'd say: 'You chaps hand them jools back, or I'll blow the gaff on you to the Customs.' That's what I'd say."
" 'Ow the devil can he say that," said Dukey irritably, 'when we can say we found 'em in his pocket?"
Bert shook his head patiently: "You don't see half of it, Dukey. Don't forget, he's an officer. What's to stop him saying that he found these jools somewhere, and was just looking after 'em for the Company. I lay these Customs chavvies'd sooner believe an officer than what they would us. See what I mean, now?"
Dukey was more subdued now: "Ah, see what you mean, Bert. Well, we'll have to work together, then. Get him to share."
Anderson looked up at the approaching smacks, now only a mile away. "That's all very well, Skipper, but we gotter work fast. We don't want that lot to see him. Let's get him down our after-cabin. You get aboard, and me and Shiner'll lower him away. Git him out of sight. I got a better idea than sharing, only it'll have to wait a bit."
Luckily for them the smacks were running down towards the port side of the Sardis, and no one saw the limp form lowered overside and dragged below into the cramped after-cabin of the Maud.
Leaving Shiner to keep an eye on the captive, the two men had ample time to regain the deck of the hulk before the first Essex smack bumped alongside. Soon they were arriving in twos and threes, until a dozen were tied up. Bustling helpfully about, Dukey and his mate gave cheerful welcomes which puzzled their old rivals; they caught heaving-lines and hauled in mooring-warps, exchanging greetings with hard-bitten acquaintances, who had been with them at the gutting of many fine ships.
One of the Rowhedge men, looking suspiciously round the deck of the Sardis, peered beneath his brows at the smiling Anderson and said: "You lot have bin here pretty nigh two hours; you mean to tell me you ain't done nothing but tip over a keg of nails?'
"Bin having a bit of dinner, mate. Gotter look after the inner man, eh? Anyhow, we didn't want to touch nothing till you got here. Share and share alike's the rule, ain't it ? Fair's fair, after all."
There was a savage outcry aft when the broken safe was discovered, and there was a hasty and violent committee meeting held round its remains, but it was finally decided by the experts that the Kent crew would not have had time to locate the safe, cut it open, dispose of the loot, and still be on deck ten minutes before the first of the Essex craft arrived.
After this the salvagers spent little time in talking, for time on a wreck was precious. At any moment she might turn over or break up further, or the wind might freshen and force them to cast off or be battered to pieces. No time was wasted on sentiment either; like butchers at the body of a steer, they gave no thought to the beauty and pride of a brand-new ship, nor to the pitiful fate of the passengers and seamen whose gear they were rifling. Impassively they put their axes through the splendid mahogany panelling of the cabins, and shook out the threadbare, carefully-mended clothes of the poor. Times were hard, and it was their winter trade.
All the hours of daylight they laboured on the wreck, attacking first the upper decks, then penetrating farther down as the tide flowed out of the ship's carcass. As the tide fell, their own craft sank farther and farther down until they too were aground on the sand. They cared nothing about this, for their smacks were the splendid products of local craftsmen, designed especially to take the ground safely. It did mean, however, that they had to rig rough derricks from the wreckage of the foremast to lower away their heavier prizes. Great bundles of fine woodwork ripped from the cabins were made up into slings and went swaying down into the holds of the smacks, together with chairs, tables, bunks, mattresses, and even the very doors.
The rigging was dotted with busy figures, too. Since Sardis was a new ship belonging to rich, careful owners, all her spars, sails and running rigging were brand-new and of the very best. So all her miles of hemp rope, so cunningly spread by the Clyde riggers, was cast off and unrove through the squealing blocks to be tied in great gleaming brown hanks and tossed into the gaping holds of the smacks. Then the blocks themselves were tied in bunches and sent to follow them. A rich harvest was coming to all the ships-chandlers for fifty miles around.
Some of the more enterprising and skilful of the Rowhedge men were coolly at work one hundred and eighty feet up on the mainmast, swaying down the royal and upper top-gallant yards, from which height they may have looked down a little scornfully at the wiry figure of Bert Anderson poking and prying round about the fore-top. Bert, on the other hand, was hardly able to contain his laughter at the sight of these men toiling and taking risks for shillings' worth of wood and hemp, when such prizes lay below in the Maud. "And," he said to himself, "that'll pay me to have a good old scout round here, 'cause this is where he was, if he wanted to hide anythink else." More to evade suspicion than to secure so cumbersome a prize as the huge foresail, he was idly sawing through the gaskets that held the furled sail to the yard, when he came upon the smaller of Ernie Jordan's moneybags, still rammed firmly into the heavy canvas folds. He did not need to examine its contents; he merely glanced casually round to see if anyone had seen his discovery. But the salvagers were all too busy at their grisly work, and no one noticed him descending to the deck and thence to the Maud's cabin. Even Dukey was too occupied coiling down a hawser, and was startled out of his wits when the small wily face was thrust close to his: "Found another bag, Dukey! 'Undred and fifty lovely quid!"
"You ain't!" said Dukey in a hoarse whisper, his eyes gleaming wildly.
"Sshh! You'll give the blinking game away, Skipper. Same as they say — never rains but what it pours!"
The Skipper's berth of a Thames Estuary smack was a curious contraption. It was like an ordinary bunk, built fore-and-aft against the ship's side, except that it could be totally enclosed by sliding wooden doors, so that the Skipper could sleep, if he wished, in a kind of cupboard, dark and stuffy, but at least private.
Jim Robbins had been laid in the Skipper's berth in the Maud, for the salvagers bore him no ill-will, and had indeed put themselves out to make him comfortable. The sliding door at the head of the berth had been left a few inches open to give him fresh air — or what passed for fresh air in a smack's cabin.
Thus the first impression that came to Jim's awakening mind was of inky darkness, pierced by a narrow band of yellow light, from beyond which came the murmur of voices and the sounds of occasional movements of heavy boots. Full consciousness came slowly, however, and it was long before the low buzz of talk resolved itself into words.