OF THE SOUTH SEAS 169 



"Steve," I said, "that squarehead of a skipper of 

 yours won't tell me anything about the El Dorado's 

 sinking and your great trip in the boat. He said he 's 

 going to write it up in the papers, and make speeches 

 about it in a museum. He wants to make money out 

 of it." 



"Vere do ve gat oop on dat?" asked the Hollander, 

 sorely. "Ve vas dere mit 'im, und vas ve in de museum, 

 py damage? Dot shkvarehet be'n't de only wrider?" 



I shuddered at the possible good fortune. I trans- 

 fixed him with a sharp eye. 



"Steve," I asked gently, "did you keep a log? Pour 

 yourself a considerable modicum of the Hollands and 

 smoke another cigar." 



"Veil," said the seaman, after obeying instructions, 

 "I yoost had vun hell of a time, und he make a long 

 rest in de land, I do py dammage ! I keep a leedle book 

 from off de day ve shtart ouid." 



I heard the measured pace of the brave "shkvarehet" 

 below as he racked his brains for words. I would have 

 loved to aid him, to do all I could to make widely knov/n 

 his and his crew's achievements and gain him fortune. 

 However, he would sow his ink and reap his gold har- 

 vest, and I must, by master or by man, hear and record 

 for myself the wonderful incidents of the El Dorado's 

 wreck. The insurance was doubtless long since paid 

 on her, and masses said for the repose of the soul of Alex 

 Simoneau. The world would not know of their being 

 saved, or her owners of the manner of her sinking, un- 

 til these three arrived in San Francisco, or until a few 

 days before, when the steamship wireless might inform 

 them. 



