"And you wish to take them back?"
"Most certainly."
"Poor folk! I am sorry for them."
"And so am I, but orders are orders and must be done."
"Quite so. Well, the old man is in his bunk asleep. The maid is in a cabin below. And the other is sleeping down the hold there where we had to put him, for there is no room elsewhere."
"Sleeping, you say? We had best surprise him."
"But think you that you dare do it alone! He has no arms, it is true, but he is a well-grown young fellow. Will you not have twenty men up from the boat?"
Some such thought had passed through the officer's head, but the captain's remark put him upon his mettle.
"Come with me, corporal," said he. "Down this ladder, you say?"
"Yes, down the ladder and straight on. He lies between those two cloth bales." Ephraim Savage looked up with a smile playing about the corners of his grim mouth. The wind was whistling now in the rigging, and the stays of the mast were humming like two harp strings. Amos Green lounged beside the French sergeant who guarded the end of the rope ladder, while Tomlinson, the mate, stood with a bucket of water in his hand exchanging remarks in very bad French with the crew of the boat beneath him.