"Say, don't I know this Sulu game? I tell you, if he does find his atoll

there won't be any shell. Not a chance in a hundred! Somebody's been

giving him a song and dance. As I get the dope, some pearl-hunting friend

of his croaks and leaves him this chart. Old stuff! I bet a million boobs

have croaked trying to locate the red cross on a chart."

"Why the devil did you sign on, then?"

"I wanted a little fun, and I'm going to have it. There's champagne and

Napoleon brandy in the dry-stores. Wouldn't hurt us to have a little of

it. If we've got to go to jail we might as well go lit up."

"Flint, you talk too much," said a voice from the doorway. It was

Cunningham's. He leaned carelessly against the jamb. The crew fell silent

and motionless. "Boys, you've heard Hennessy. Play it my way and you'll

wear diamonds; mess it up and you'll all wear hemp. The world will forgive

us when it finds out we've only made it laugh." Cunningham strolled over

to Flint, who rose to his feet. "Flint, I want that crimp-house whisky

you've been swigging on the sly. No back talk! Hand it over!"

"And if I don't?" said Flint, his jaw jutting.




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