"How unreasonable!" deplored Murray. "Have you not been acting the part of an Outraged Parent who sacrificed all in defense of his daughter? My dear chevalier, what rôle could you select more heroical?"
"Give over your mummery," protested O'Donnell. "I'll not be made a mock of, sir!"
"Rightly spoken!" cried my great-uncle. "You shall not be, chevalier. Peter, good friend, prithee take three steps within the companionway and there deposit Colonel O'Donnell with decent propriety upon the two limbs Nature intended for his locomotion. Ah! Excellent! Allow me, mistress!"
Peter and I followed the three of them up the dark tunnel of the companionway.
"We are past one danger-mark, Peter," I whispered. "What's to come?"
"Trouble," mumbled Peter.
"Trouble?"
"Ja. To get der treasure, I saidt dot was easy, Bob. But to divide der treasure—dot's trouble. Andt now we got a woman on der ship—andt dot's more trouble."
Ben Gunn and the two negro lackeys ushered the party to their seats. Mistress O'Donnell sank into hers with a weariness that was pathetic. She was quite regardless of her surroundings. 'Twas as if she was become reconciled to whatever misfortune was in store for her. And she did not so much as glance at her father, who sat morosely upon Murray's left hand across the table from her. Peter took his accustomed place at the opposite end, and I sat beside her.
"Let me give you a glass of this aqua vitae, my lass," said my great-uncle. "'Tis efficacious for fatigue and the migraine. See, I taste it myself. 'Tis quite all right. You, too, chevalier? Excellent! Perhaps you will pass the flask to Master Corlaer yonder. You gentlemen should know each other after your recent intimate contact. And Master Ormerod yonder—my nephew. But I believe you and your daughter have had previous acquaintance with him."