And every youth in Wharfdale wished at that moment that he was Tom Pagdin or Dave Gibson.
“Hadn’t we better go ashore now,” suggested Dan.
“Hold on!” cried Tom. “They’ve got to give me and Dan a free pardon first, I’m going to hold him as a ’ostage until we get it.”
“You have already turned Queen’s evidence,” said Dan, gravely, “and the free pardon comes as a matter of course. I am the Postmaster here, and I keep the free pardon forms in my office. I’ll see to that. All you have to do is to tell the truth, or as much of it as you can remember, and instruct Dave to do the same.”
The excitement at the landing of the prisoner was such as Wharfdale in all its history had never known.
The news was telegraphed from one to another, and from the very outskirts of the town breathless inhabitants, young and old, came running to the river bank. Even the town cripple was in attendance.
Dogs followed their owners, met enemies and fought, but for once a dog-fight went unnoticed.
The keel of the boat stuck in the mud at the edge.
Tom ordered the crowd off and they obeyed. Then he commanded Petit: “Right turn! March!” and Petit cursed and obeyed also.
The pirate captain was tasting the sweets of power.