“We will have to wear masks,” said Bates.
“Yes, and keep dead silence.”
“If we meet with any opposition, you know—?”
“Oh, as to that,” said Jack, “we won’t stand nice on trifles. It’s a case of life or death with me.”
So speaking, Bates and Captain Jack strolled towards the “quiet place” spoken of, and in less than half an hour Jack, half-drunk, rolled in among the “Dozen,” who were already assembled.
They looked daggers at him, and would, perhaps, have resorted to violence, but Bates whispered something to them which cooled their anger.
Captain Jack reeled into a chair, and was soon fast asleep and snoring.
“Keep an eye on him, my men,” said Bates, in a whisper; “I am going out on very important business, which I will explain on my return. Jack’s all right. Don’t have any rows or quarrels with him; let him have all the drink he wants, but don’t let him go out on any account.”
So speaking, Tom Bates buttoned up his coat, looked to his sword and pistols, and vent forth alone into the darkness and blinding storm of sleet and rain.