“And do you mean to arrest me?”
“That depends,” said Bates. “The Dozen and I have had several meetings, and it was resolved to throw you out of the captaincy, and put me in.”
“Well!”
“I begged for your life hard, very hard, Jack, for all the lads swore you had played foully with them, and deserved to die.”
“But I haven’t, Tom.”
“You have, Jack; you have been flashing about town for a long time like a lord, and spending lots of money, which ought to have been divided among us; for we’ve been as poor for the last few months as church mice.”
“What do you propose to do, then?” said Jack, drinking his wine; “what do the lads intend to do? Surely you cannot think I’d let myself be taken by any of my old pals while I carry a sword by my side.”
“Your sword would do very little good for you, Jack; for I could call upon the citizens here in this place, and carry you off by fair means or foul, if I liked. Here’s my warrant, as you see, ‘Arrest him, dead or alive;’ those are the colonel’s words.”
“The colonel is a scoundrel,” said Jack, striking the table; “and if I ever come across him I’d—”
“Hush!” said old Bates; “don’t talk so loudly; you might be heard by somebody.”