When they got aboard the king
went for me, and shook me by the collar, and says:
“Tryin’ to give us the
slip, was ye, you pup! Tired of our company,
hey?”
I says:
“No, your majesty, we warn’t—please
don’t, your majesty!”
“Quick, then, and tell us what
was your idea, or I’ll shake the insides
out o’ you!”
“Honest, I’ll tell you
everything just as it happened, your majesty.
The man that had a-holt of me was very good to me,
and kept saying he had a boy about as big as me that
died last year, and he was sorry to see a boy in such
a dangerous fix; and when they was all took by surprise
by finding the gold, and made a rush for the coffin,
he lets go of me and whispers, ‘Heel it now,
or they’ll hang ye, sure!’ and I lit out.
It didn’t seem no good for me to stay—I
couldn’t do nothing, and I didn’t want
to be hung if I could get away. So I never stopped
running till I found the canoe; and when I got here
I told Jim to hurry, or they’d catch me and
hang me yet, and said I was afeard you and the duke
wasn’t alive now, and I was awful sorry, and
so was Jim, and was awful glad when we see you coming;
you may ask Jim if I didn’t.”
Jim said it was so; and the king told
him to shut up, and said, “Oh, yes, it’s
mighty likely!” and shook me up again, and
said he reckoned he’d drownd me. But the
duke says:
“Leggo the boy, you old idiot!
Would you a done any different? Did you
inquire around for him when you got loose?
I don’t remember it.”
So the king let go of me, and begun
to cuss that town and everybody in it. But the
duke says:
“You better a blame’ sight
give yourself a good cussing, for you’re
the one that’s entitled to it most. You
hain’t done a thing from the start that had
any sense in it, except coming out so cool and cheeky
with that imaginary blue-arrow mark. That was
bright—it was right down bully; and it
was the thing that saved us. For if it hadn’t
been for that they’d a jailed us till them Englishmen’s
baggage come—and then—the penitentiary,
you bet! But that trick took ’em to the
graveyard, and the gold done us a still bigger kindness;
for if the excited fools hadn’t let go all holts
and made that rush to get a look we’d a slept
in our cravats to-night—cravats warranted
to wear, too—longer than we’d
need ’em.”
They was still a minute—thinking;
then the king says, kind of absent-minded like:
“Mf! And we reckoned the niggers
stole it!”
That made me squirm!
“Yes,” says the duke, kinder slow and
deliberate and sarcastic, “We did.”
After about a half a minute the king drawls out:
“Leastways, I did.”
The duke says, the same way:
“On the contrary, I did.”
The king kind of ruffles up, and says:
“Looky here, Bilgewater, what’r you referrin’
to?”
The duke says, pretty brisk:
“When it comes to that, maybe
you’ll let me ask, what was you referring
to?”
“Shucks!” says the king,
very sarcastic; “but I don’t know—maybe
you was asleep, and didn’t know what you was
about.”
The duke bristles up now, and says:
“Oh, let up on this cussed
nonsense; do you take me for a blame’ fool?
Don’t you reckon I know who hid that money in
that coffin?”
“Yes, sir! I know you do know,
because you done it yourself!”
“It’s a lie!”—and the
duke went for him. The king sings out:
“Take y’r hands off!—leggo
my throat!—I take it all back!”
The duke says:
“Well, you just own up, first,
that you did hide that money there, intending
to give me the slip one of these days, and come back
and dig it up, and have it all to yourself.”
“Wait jest a minute, duke—answer
me this one question, honest and fair; if you didn’t
put the money there, say it, and I’ll b’lieve
you, and take back everything I said.”
“You old scoundrel, I didn’t, and you
know I didn’t. There, now!”
“Well, then, I b’lieve
you. But answer me only jest this one more—now
don’t git mad; didn’t you have it
in your mind to hook the money and hide it?”
The duke never said nothing for a little bit; then
he says:
“Well, I don’t care if
I did, I didn’t do it, anyway.
But you not only had it in mind to do it, but you
done it.”
“I wisht I never die if I done
it, duke, and that’s honest. I won’t
say I warn’t goin’ to do it, because I
was; but you—I mean somebody—got
in ahead o’ me.”
“It’s a lie! You
done it, and you got to say you done it, or—”
The king began to gurgle, and then he gasps out:
“’Nough!—I own up!”
I was very glad to hear him say that;
it made me feel much more easier than what I was feeling
before. So the duke took his hands off and says:
“If you ever deny it again I’ll
drown you. It’s well for you to set
there and blubber like a baby—it’s
fitten for you, after the way you’ve acted.
I never see such an old ostrich for wanting to gobble
everything —and I a-trusting you all the
time, like you was my own father. You ought
to been ashamed of yourself to stand by and hear it
saddled on to a lot of poor niggers, and you never
say a word for ’em. It makes me feel ridiculous
to think I was soft enough to believe that rubbage.
Cuss you, I can see now why you was so anxious to
make up the deffisit—you wanted to get
what money I’d got out of the Nonesuch and one
thing or another, and scoop it all!”
The king says, timid, and still a-snuffling:
“Why, duke, it was you that said make up the
deffisit; it warn’t me.”
“Dry up! I don’t
want to hear no more out of you!” says the duke.
“And now you see what you got by
it. They’ve got all their own money back,
and all of ourn but a shekel or two besides.
G’long to bed, and don’t you deffersit
me no more deffersits, long ’s you
live!”
So the king sneaked into the wigwam
and took to his bottle for comfort, and before long
the duke tackled his bottle; and so in about a
half an hour they was as thick as thieves again, and
the tighter they got the lovinger they got, and went
off a-snoring in each other’s arms. They
both got powerful mellow, but I noticed the king didn’t
get mellow enough to forget to remember to not deny
about hiding the money-bag again. That made
me feel easy and satisfied. Of course when they
got to snoring we had a long gabble, and I told Jim
everything.