“There would be some risk for us all,” said I truly.
“There you go, balancing and not deciding. You are no pirate.”
“What will you give me if I go, Helena?” said I.
“Nothing beyond thanking you. One thing, you must not think that I would trick or trap you.”
“Many a criminal has been trapped by a woman whom he loves,” said I slowly. “But you would not do that if I had your word, even though you hated me. And you do hate me very much, do you not?”
“Yes, very much. But if you took me by New Orleans without a supper at Luigi’s, I should hate you even more.”
“Jean—Jean Lafitte,” I called out in a low tone of voice.
“Aye, aye, Sir!” he saluted, as he came to the place where we stood, like some seasoned sailorman, regardless of youthful hours of sleep.
“I am going up-town with the captive maiden. Do you stand here on watch. We shall be gone about three hours.”
“Hully gee!” ejaculated Jean Lafitte, but at once he saluted again. “’Tis well, Black Bart,” said he.