two had nothing to do with the Kermadec, but with something neither dared to discuss one with the other: Peterson, and what was to be done with Peterson.
“You’re on it,” continued Rantan, “and now what do you say?”
“I’m with you,” replied Carlin, “but I don’t see how you’re to do it. I’ll have no hand in doing it.”
“Leave that to me,” said the other, “you’ve only to help work the ship when I’ve taken her.”
“You say Sanders is the only white man here,” said Carlin.
“So Peterson tells me,” replied Rantan.
“Well, one white man is enough to turn on us,” said Carlin.
“He won’t turn on us,” replied Rantan grimly, and Carlin glancing at him sideways wondered for a moment if he hadn’t the devil in tow with Rantan. But Carlin was of the type that will take profit and not care so long as its own hands are clean. I wonder how many of us would eat meat if we had to do the killing ourselves or make money from poisonous industries if we had ourselves to face the poison. What Rantan chose to do was nothing to Carlin so long as he himself had not to do it or to plan it, but he was cautious.
“How about that chap Sru?” he asked. “He’s boss of the crew and the only thinking one of them—suppose....”
“Nothing,” replied the other. “He’s with me.”
Fell a silence filled with the voice of the far torrent
