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“What you laughin’ at?” says Peter.

“I got a comical idea,” says Tom.

“Laughin’ at me, Tom?”

“Oh, I’m jus’ laughin’.”

“‘Tis neither time nor place, Tom,” says Peter, “t’ laugh at an old man.”

Tom roared. Ay, he slapped his knee, and he throwed back his head, and he roared. ‘Twas enough almost to swamp the boat.

“For shame!” says Peter. And more than Pinch-a-Penny thought so.

“Skipper Peter,” says Tom, “you’re rich, isn’t you?”

“I got money,” says Peter.

“Sittin’ out here, all alone,” says Tom, “you been thinkin’ a deal, you says?”

“Well,” says Peter, “I’ll not deny that I been havin’ a little spurt o’ sober thought.”

“You been thinkin’ that money wasn’t much, after all?”

“Ay.”

“An’ that all your money in a lump wouldn’t buy you passage ashore?”

“Oh, some few small thoughts on that order,” says Peter. “‘Tis perfectly natural.”

“Money talks,” says Tom.

“Tauntin’ me again, Tom?”

“No, I isn’t,” says Tom. “I means it. Money talks. What’ll you give for my seat in the boat?”

“‘Tis not for sale, Tom.”

The lads begun to grumble. It seemed just as if Long Tom Lane was making game of an old man in trouble. ‘Twas either that or lunacy. And there was no time for nonsense off the Gingerbread coast in a spring gale of wind.

“Hist!” Tom whispered to the lads. “I knows what I’m doin’.”

“A mad thing, Tom!”

“Oh, no!” says Tom. “‘Tis the cleverest thing ever I thought of. Well,” says he to Peter, “how much?”

“No man sells his life.”

“Life or no life, my place in this boat is for sale,” says Tom. “Money talks. Come, now. Speak up. Us can’t linger here with night comin’ down.”

“What’s the price, Tom?”

“How much you got, Peter?”

“Ah, well, I can afford a stiffish price, Tom. Anything you say in reason will suit me. You name the price, Tom. I’ll pay.”

“Ay, ye crab!” says Tom. “I’m namin’ prices now. Look out, Peter! You’re seventy-three. I’m fifty-three. Will you grant that I’d live t’ be as old as you?”

“I’ll grant it, Tom.”

“I’m not sayin’ I would,” says Tom. “You mark that.”

“Ah, well, I’ll grant it, anyhow.”

“I been an industrious man all my life, Skipper Peter. None knows it better than you. Will you grant that I’d earn a hundred and fifty dollars a year if I lived?”

“Ay, Tom.”

Down come a gust of wind. “Have done!” says one of the lads. “Here’s the gale come down with the dark. Us’ll all be cast away.”

“Rodney’s mine, isn’t she?” says Tom.

Well, she was. Nobody could say nothing to that. And nobody did.

“That’s three thousand dollars, Peter,” says Tom. “Three–thousand–dollars!”

“Ay,” says Peter, “she calculates that way. But you’ve forgot t’ deduct your livin’ from the total. Not that I minds,” says he. “‘Tis just a business detail.”

“Damme,” says Tom. “I’ll not be harsh!”

“Another thing, Tom,” says Peter. “You’re askin’ me t’ pay for twenty years o’ life when I can use but a few. God knows how many!”

“I got you where I wants you,” says Tom, “but I isn’t got the heart t’ grind you. Will you pay two thousand dollars for my seat in the boat?”

“If you is fool enough t’ take it, Tom.”

“There’s something t’ boot,” says Tom. “I wants t’ die out o’ debt.”

“You does, Tom.”

“An’ my father’s bill is squared?”

“Ay.”

“‘Tis a bargain!” says Tom. “God witness!”

“Lads,” says Pinch-a-Penny to the others in the rodney, “I calls you t’ witness that I didn’t ask Tom Lane for his seat in the boat. I isn’t no coward. I’ve asked no man t’ give up his life for me. This here bargain is a straight business deal. Business is business. ‘Tis not my proposition. An’ I calls you t’ witness that I’m willin’ t’ pay what he asks. He’ve something for sale. I wants it. I’ve the money t’ buy it. The price is his. I’ll pay it.” Then he turned to Tom. “You wants this money paid t’ your wife, Tom?”

“Ay,” says Tom, “t’ Mary. She’ll know why.”