"I'm no negro man to be bargained over and passed from owner to owner!" I exclaimed hotly. "You can make me go, but I'll not step willingly."
Flint was about to answer with a spurt of oaths when Murray interrupted.
"You anticipate matters," he rebuked his associate. "There is no occasion for a hostage yet. We shall sail at once for the Rendezvous. It will be weeks, aye, months, before I am in shape to sail west under Hispaniola. Time enough then to talk of delivering your hostage."
For an instant Flint appeared to be about to object to this view, but he evidently decided it was not worth another dispute.
"Let it go," he assented gruffly. "We'll settle the details at the island. —— me—" this with a sudden revival of friendliness—"I knew we had not picked up that red-headed lad for nothing! 'Tis a sure sign o' luck."
And out he swaggered from the cabin, stamping and banging the door and sprinkling curses freely as he gained the deck and shouted for his boat's crew to row him back to the Walrus.
CHAPTER VIII
A WICKED OLD MAN'S DREAM
My great-uncle sank into his chair with a gesture of disgust and poured three fingers of brandy into a wine-glass.
"Phaugh!" he exclaimed. "At times I am nauseated by the company perforce I keep."