"Why are you telling me this?" he inquired. "What makes you think
I won't betray you?"
"Something tells me you won't. You have a good heart, and you have
kept Narciso from starving, for the sake of your own boy."
"Well?"
"Will you help us?"
"_I_? In Heaven's name, how?"
"By taking us away in your charcoal-schooner."
"You're mad!" Morin cast another apprehensive look over his
shoulder. "I'm a poor man. All I have is my two boats, the vivero,
which brings fish, and the volandra, which sails with charcoal. Do
you think I'd forfeit them and my life for strangers?"
"There wouldn't be much risk."
"Indeed? Perhaps I know something about that."
O'Reilly leaned closer. "You say you're a poor man, I will pay
you well."
Morin eyed the ragged speaker scornfully; it was plain that he put
no faith in such a promise, and so O'Reilly took a piece of gold
from his pocket, at sight of which the fisherman started.
"What kind of pacificos are you?" Morin queried. His mouth had
fallen open, his eyes protruded.
"I, too, am a poor man, but I'm willing to buy freedom for my
little brothers and myself."
"How many coins like that have you?"
"Um--m--more than one; enough to pay you for several cargoes of
coal."
"And I have given you fish to eat!" Morin rolled his eyes at
Jacket. He pondered the marvel of what he had seen, he muttered
something to himself.
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