Moonfleet Page #4

you mock God in His own house

and this shall not be forgiven you

here or hereafter.

Amen!

Who is it?

It's I, sir. John Mohune.

Olivia Mohune's boy.

I was fond of your mother.

Most fond.

Seeing you here in church today

was a comfort to me.

On a day of great anger!

Parson Glennie,

what became of the diamond?

The diamond he sold his honour for.

That secret lies buried

with Sir John.

Perhaps it is better so.

But if I found it,

it would be mine, wouldn't it?

So young, and your heart already

set on possessions?

But if I put it to good use, sir?

If you found it, you would succeed

where generations have failed.

Now, my boy, we're about to

be plunged in primeval darkness.

You're not afraid to cross

the churchyard alone, are you?

No, sir.

Still, you'd better take this.

You can return it in the morning.

I shall look forward

to talking with you.

Thank you, sir.

Good night, my boy. God bless you.

Good night, sir.

Get the ladder up.

Half the roof's fallen in!

Blood, what a shambles!

Get those kegs out of the water!

It was the brandy kegs

dancing around, not Redbeard!

I wonder Parson didn't smell a rat!

The tide come any higher, the

barrels will float down the aisle!

What about me?

- Is this all that's coming?

- Parminter's cried off.

And Starkill...

Rot their chicken hearts!

What ails 'em?

Feared to showfight

since that business of Greening.

The fools!

We'd be twenty against one!

Aye. But the question is,

do we need the one?

Gentlemen!

On my way to Ashwood House,

I received a message.

It said that I might find

better entertainment here.

Who peached?

I can spare you five minutes.

Well, here it is. The men's hearts

ain't in this business any more.

What do the men want,

plainly and simply?

Before they'll run another cargo,

they want a bigger share.

It ain't right that

some should take all the chances

while others

pockets all the profits!

You may give yourself airs

above ground, Mr. Kiss-me-hand Fox,

but down here

you're no better than we are.

You witless, gutless

misbegotten gallows-bait!

Before you thought yourselves

desperate fellows

if you smuggled two kegs

a month in a load of mackerel!

I turned your paltry swindle

into a trade worth thousands!

And I claim the captain's share

because I earn it!

Now, gentlemen,

anything else you wished to discuss?

No?

Then if you'll excuse me.

"Strengthen ye the weak hands,

and confirm the feeble knees."

Isaiah 35:
3.

Im for bed.

Here, best see to this.

Cover it up.

Stap me!

It's not my hat! It's too small.

Well, it's more'n likely that

your head's too big with the brandy.

All right, all right.

Get along with it!

That'll do it.

Now nobody can get in or out!

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