“I hope so.”
“But I’m afraid the men on the diggings think hardly of me.”
“Why should they? They are all coming to town, I am told, in order to attend the trial.”
“So much the greater will be my degradation, if I am found guilty.”
“On the other hand, so much greater will be your triumph, when you prove your innocence.”
The conversation had got thus far, when voices were heard without, the door of the cell opened, and the Pilot and Captain Sartoris entered.
“Well, lad,” exclaimed old Summerhayes, as he vigorously shook Jack’s hand. “Keeping her head well to the wind, eh? That’s the style, lad. You’ll find she’ll weather the storm.”
“Aye, aye,” said Sartoris. “If she goes down with all hands it’s not the fault of the skipper, providing he’s steered his true course.”
“That’s so,” said the Pilot; “providing he’s steered his true course. We were thinking o’ bail, Jack. We thought to make you comfortable till you’d proved they’d arrested the wrong man; but that old barnacle of a Judge wouldn’t budge an inch. He consulted his log, and neither Sartoris, nor me, nor my dar’ter, could drive any sense into him. So we gave it up: we intend to do our best to make you happy here.”
“Lord bless you,” said Sartoris, “it won’t seem no time at all before you are out an’ about. Then the whole affair will be but an episode,”—he dwelt on the word, which he had been treasuring in his mind for hours past—“simply an episode, only made to be forgotten.” This speech was a great effort of oratory, and the Captain drew a long breath, looking sideways at the Pilot, as though he had given a cue.