After hesitating perceptibly, Falk decided to ignore it. "All we want's
bread and water," he whined.
"Give us the money, then," Roger repeated, "and we'll see that you don't
starve." His voice was calm and incisive. He absolutely controlled the
situation.
Falk threw up his hands in a gesture of despair. "But we ain't got the
money. So help me God, we ain't got a cent of it."
"Hand over the money," Roger repeated, "and we'll give you food and water."
He pointed at the quarter-boat, which swung at the end of a long painter.
"Come no nearer. Put the money in that boat and we'll haul it up."
"We _ain't got the money_, I tell you. I swear on my immortal soul, we
ain't got it." Falk seemed to be on the point of weeping. He was so weak
and white!
When Roger did not reply, I turned to look at him. There was a thoughtful
expression on his face, and following the direction of his eyes, my own
gaze rested on the face of the man from Boston. He was smiling. But when
he saw us looking at him, he stopped and changed color.
"I believe you," Roger declared suddenly. "You'll have to keep your
distance or I'll blow your boat to pieces; but if you obey orders, I'll
help you out as far as a few days' supply of food will go.
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