"Aye, it could be done," he agreed. "But there is danger, lad. 'Tis a still night. You can hear the fish leap."
"And Flint's people keep a slovenly watch," I replied. "But Peter and I are good swimmers. We'll not make a sound."
Peter commenced to blow out the candles.
"Ja," he said. "Me, I don't like der water when it makes waves, but quiet it is nice."
My great-uncle smiled in the dwindling light.
"I should be a hypocrite as well as a fool, did I refuse your offer, gentlemen," he said. "'Tis not only our own lives are at stake, but Mistress Moira's too."
A groan came from Colonel O'Donnell.
"Ah, didn't I tell ye the way we would be left to the mercy of your cutthroats and latch-drawers, Murray? And now 'tis yourself must admit it! A sorry business it is, and I wish to God I'd never heard your name or gone forth of Spain."
Murray himself blew out the last candle.
"Well, well, chevalier," he answered a little tartly, "forth of Spain you went, and aboard the Royal James you are, and the one hope of life you have is that you stay aboard the Royal James—and this is saying naught of the obligations we owe to your friends on the other side."