When Petit growled he girded him with unpleasing remarks and uncomplimentary nicknames. As soon as they reached the boats Tom disposed his prisoner in the bow with due ceremony, and sat facing him, with the Winchester, while Dan rowed.
For further security he commanded the other boat to keep in close attendance, and ordered Dave for’ard, armed with Dan’s gun, giving him strict instructions to open fire at the first sign of hostilities. And Dave knelt down while George rowed, and took frequent aim at Petit to assure him that he was prepared to obey orders.
“All we want now,” observed Tom, as the boats pulled out slowly into the stream “is a band. It don’t seem quite right without a band, but I reckon they’ll fix that up afterwards.”
“Yes,” observed Dan, “I daresay you’ll get a reception in Wharfdale if that rifle don’t go off accidentally before we get there!”
“Pity we couldn’t send ’em word we was comin’,” mused the pirate chief. “They might make up a procession.”
“Very likely they would,” said Dan. “The Mayor would probably attend, and the aldermen and the principal citizens. You’ll be a hero, Tom, anyway.”
“That’s all right,” remarked Tom; “but we ain’t done half what we was goin’ to do, me an’ Dave. We ain’t made no raids, nor fought with any man-o’-war, nor had any duels with other pirates, nor anything.”
“Never mind,” said Dave, by way of consolation, “You’ve made a pretty valuable capture.”
“Him!” said Tom, with contempt, flourishing the rifle at Petit. “Oh, he’s nothing—only a cold-blooded German. It’s the Germans that’s ruinin’ this country, and spoilin’ the pirate business. I’ve heard the old man talkin’ about the way them Germans was makin’ things hard for white folks, but I never understood it like I do now.”