“Cap’n,” began the spokesman, reluctantly stepping a little forward from his fellows, “Cap’n, how d’ye do, sir? You remember us, Cap’n, don’t ye; all good sailor-men from New York? Some of us fought the French under ye, Cap’n, sir, in the West Indies.”
Kidd nodded.
“Well?”
There was a heavy silence. The newcomers looked around them, and somehow took a little heart from a something in the attitudes and manner of the men under their old acquaintance’s command. Things just didn’t look like a reputable king’s ship on the king’s business.
“You be come to hang us all, Cap’n,” blurted the speaker. “We’ve heered you got the king’s commission to take pirates. Maybe we’ve fell into a loose step or two, but we aren’t regular robbers. Cap’n, give us a chance, and we’ll uncover a nest of the kind you’re alooking for.”
He pointed a long finger toward the wooded shore.
“See that ship, Cap’n? That’s the Resolution, Culliford, skipper, and one o’ the hardest ships in these parts.”
Kidd turned and gave a long look at the rakish Resolution, from this distance even, a vessel evidently of speed and unlawful purpose.
“I’ll go back with you,” declared Kidd, briskly.
They all returned to the canoe and set off for the Resolution. The delegation must have been astonished at the audacity of Kidd’s returning with them to a known pirate, with a commission in his pocket to hang the crew of the Resolution if necessary, and returning at that with absolutely no protection. They had always known this man for a queer one.