it were, for their mutual amusement. "Why shouldn't ye hanker
arter seein' the gold agen, mister? I guess ye didn't hev too much on
it afore; an', I'm durned if ye hev got much of a pile now, ez fur ez I
ken see!"

Jan Steenbock's answer, however, completely staggered him, banishing all
his merriment and facetiousness in an instant.

"It vas curst," said the Dane solemnly. "Ze golt and ze islandt and
everyting vas shtink mit ze black man's bloot!"

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

WE DISCOVER THE CAVE.

"What d'ye mean?" Captain Snaggs managed to stammer out after a bit,
his long face perceptibly longer and his rubicund complexion turned to
an ashy grey. He was conscience-stricken and thoroughly frightened at
the second-mate thus bringing up again, as he thought, his cruel murder
of the negro cook; for, Jan Steenbock spoke in the same tone of voice,
and pointed his finger at him like an accusing judge, in almost the same
precise way he had done on that eventful day when we were off Scilly,
three months before. "What in thunder d'ye mean, man?--what d'ye mean?"

"I vas mean vat I zays," answered the other calmly: "ze dreazure of ze
boocaneer vas shtain mit ze bloot of von schlave."

"Oh," exclaimed the skipper, somewhat relieved by his not mentioning
again Sam Jedfoot's name, as he and all of us believed the second-mate
intended doing, imagining his remark to refer to none other than the
poor darkey. "I don't kinder foller ye, mister, nohow, an it strikes
me, it dew, ez if ye air gettin' sorter mixed up, same ez jest now!
What d'ye mean a-talkin' o' durned nigger slaves an' sichlike? Thaar
ain't none now, I reckon, under the Stars and Stripes this side, nor yit
fur thet matter in the hull o' the land, from Maine to Californy, sin'
the war busted up the great southern `institooshun,' ez they call'd it
in Virginny. Thaar ain't no slaves, sirree, now, I guess, on this hyar
free an' almighty continent! What d'yer mean, hey?"

The men gave out another loud hooray at this stump speech, which the
skipper, quite relieved of his fears anent any allusion to Sam Jedfoot,
delivered with much unction, as if he were holding forth from a platform
at election time, his billy-goat beard wagging while he threw his arms
about in the excitement of his oratory.

Jan Steenbock, for the moment, seemed puzzled how to reply; for, he
stood silently facing the other in the pause that ensued after he had
finished his harangue.

At lengt