He heard me out in silence, his keen eyes searching me.
“Why, here is a lad of mettle,” says he, “and—what should ever accompany this quality—of integrity. I thank you for your confidence reposed in me; it shall not miscarry. And now” (as I stood abashed by his courtly phrase) “and now for action!”
But, with the word, there came the tramp of men approaching, and the boatswain entered, having a lantern in one hand and a bare cutlash in the other; and close at his heels came my brother.
The boatswain stood still at the entry; but Dick thrust by him, and came forth into the cabin, asking what the matter was.
I left it to the Englishman to answer, and he did so.
“Look you, sir,” said he, rising on an elbow and speaking with hauteur, “I am, I suppose, beholden to you for my life. But to save a man from the sea, that he may be barbarously murdered in his bed—where is the obligation?”
“What means he?” asked Dick, turning to me.
I told him what had passed.
“Ouvery! Always Ouvery!” cried he. “What means the fellow? I begin to sicken of it! Curses on it!”
And, snapping his fingers in a passion, he rushed from the cabin.