“'What do you mean?' said he, jumping up angrily; but he was scarce on his legs when he was down again at his full length on the plank, with a bullet through his brain, never to move again!”
“There, there, avast with that tale; you've told it to me every night that my heart was heavy this twelvemonth past. But I 've hit on a way to save the lad,—will you help me?”
“Ay, if my help does n't bring bad luck on him; it always has on every one I befriended since—since—”
“Never mind that. There 's no risk here, nor much room for luck, good or bad.” He paused a second or two, then added,—
“I 'm thinking we can't do better than shove him ashore on the island yonder.”
“On Anticosti!” said Felborg, with a shudder.
“Ay, why not? There's always a store of biscuit and fresh water in the log-houses, and the cruisers touch there every six or seven weeks to take people off. He has but to hoist the flag to show he 's there.”
“There's no one there now,” said the Dane.
“No. I saw the flag-staff bare yesterday; but what does that matter? A few days or a few weeks alone are better than what's in store for him here.”
“I don't think so. No! Beym alia Deyvelm! I 'd stand the bullet at three paces, but I 'd not meet that negro chap alone.”