"Dhrunk under the cabin table," returned Darby promptly.
"Gut him for the souse he is! And Long John?"
"Sure, captain dear, 'twas yourself sent him ashore to keep the lads up to the fort from carvin' theirselves."
"So I did. Well, I'll see to the prisoners myself then."
"Pris'ners!" protested Darby, wide-eyed. "Troth, himself is the nevvy or what-not o' the old devil. For why'll ye be makin' him a pris'ner? More by token, he was me friend in New York, and Peter too. Grand pirates they'll be, if ye do but give 'em time."
"Prisoners I said, and prisoners they are!" glowered Flint. "D'ye know what a hostage is, Darby?"
"One that'll be by-ordinary wicked?" answered Darby.
"More'n likely," assented Flint with a pardonable chuckle. "Well, these is hostages, Darby. Likewise prisoners."
"Och, captain, ye won't be hard on Master Bob! He's as kindly a young gentleman as ever I see—and Peter there is a grand fightin' feller. Ye should hear to tales they tell o' his murtherin' and slayin' with the red Injuns."
"I'll be as hard as they make me be," returned Flint. "But for tonight I must have them safe."