I was speechless with surprise. However wild a life M. Radisson led, his title of nobility was from a king who awarded patents to gentlemen only.
"We neither call our women 'she' nor give them market value," I retorted.
Thereupon M. de Radisson falls in such fits of laughter, I had thought he must split his baldrick.
"Pardieu!" he laughed, wiping the tears away with a tangled lace thing fit for a dandy, "Pardieu! 'Tis not your girl-page? 'Tis the ship o' that hangdog of a New England captain!"
The thing came in a jiffy. Sieur Radisson, having deserted the English Fur Company, was setting up for himself. He was spying the strength of his rivals for the north sea.
"You praised my wit. I have but given you a sample."
Then I told him all I knew of the ship, and M. de Radisson laughed again till he was like to weep.
"How is she called?" he asked.
"The Prince Rupert," said I.
"Ha! Then the same crew of gentlemen's scullions and courtiers' valets stuffing the lockers full o' trash to trade on their master's account. A pretty cheat for the Company!"