Would it be any crime--any great crime to slip a little of that long green into our pockets ?" Two pictures were in McTee's mind--one of the safe piled full of gold, and the other of the half-crazed old skipper with his dying granddaughter.

After all, it was only a matter of months before Henshaw would be dead, for certainly he would not long survive the death of Beatrice.

Even a small portion of that hoard would enable him to leave the sea--to woo Kate as she must be wooed before he could win her.
Golden would be the veil with which he could blind her eyes to the memory of Harrigan after he had removed the Irishman from his path.
"Very well, bos'n.

I understand what you mean.

I've seen the inside of that safe in the cabin.