It was true what the scoundrel had said. He had been in communication with Paul. The sentinels were not to be blamed, for their orders were that Paul was not to be allowed to escape. They were too simple to suspect anything. Paul had seen Arendsoon from one of the narrow windows of the house, had called to him, and they had then held a long conversation in their own language. This happened when we were away up the valley. We alone were to blame for affording the opportunity.
I had not had a chance to speak to Azolta before. She told me that after the officer held the conversation with Paul he had commenced to pester her with his attentions trying to express his admiration by looks and gestures. She, in her innocence, did not repulse him as strongly as she should, which gave the ruffian confidence.
It was in no sweet temper that Zolca and I now proceeded to Paul’s place of imprisonment. On opening the door I was astonished at the change in the man. The sight of the vessel and the sound of his native tongue had brought back all his worst traits, and obliterated what good had shown on the surface. Instead of the cheery, willing fellow I had known so long there was the ruffling mutineer of the Batavia.
“Hullo, bullies!” he cried, in coarse defiant tones. “Come to square accounts with me! Ah! but you’ll have to be careful. We are under the guns of a tight ship and they won’t let a good citizen of Holland be maltreated by savages!”
This was in our own language, but Zolca guessed the import from the fellow’s swaggering air, and his eyes gleamed with rage.
“Silence, you fool!” I replied. “Your friend on board that ship is a swordless coward, at present under arrest. As for you, traitor! ship or no ship, guns or no guns, I’d hang you on one of the arms of that Cross you dishonoured if I saw fit. And you know it!”
Paul’s crest fell. “You crow loud, friend Diedrich, but what do you intend? That I signalled the ship ’tis true; but, if you had let me, I would but have gone off as a shipwrecked sailor, and left you and your valley in peace.”
“Then,” said I, in answer to this palpable lie, “why did you hail that red-faced sot and tell him about the gold?”
“Why? Because I was mad at being bundled in here and locked up like a thief!”
“And locked up like a thief you will be, until the Selwaert sails,” I replied; “then, as you say, we will square accounts. Are you better than a thief to try to put men on to steal their country from these poor people, who have done you nothing but kindness.”