“Truly so;” I answered, somewhat nettled. “You left us five well-ordered gentlemen as guests!”
“That is beside the matter,” he replied, somewhat haughtily. “Why did you not at once inform Herr Vanstrooken of the true character of that piratical craft?”
“Because the man had kept his word honourably with me, and handed over the men I wanted in irons. Moreover, I think it would have been much to the advantage of all of you if you had accepted my explanation and let him go in peace.”
He looked at me for a moment with a black frown, then suddenly laughed.
“Faith, friend, you are right, I believe! That same pirate carried too much metal for us.”
He held out both his hands, and our old friendship was at once restored.
“I will be your guest to-night, with your permission,” he said; “but I must send my boat back with a message.”
In a few minutes he was ready to go with me to the town, where we were received with great welcome by Zolca and Azolta.
We sat talking until late that night, for he had much to tell and much to listen to. The events of the years since we parted had been stirring with both of us. He had been back to Holland, had visited Harlem and seen my parents—having gone there on purpose to assure them of my innocence with regard to the Batavia mutiny. He brought me loving messages from them, and I felt I never could thank him enough for having done, of his own accord, the thing I most desired, namely, my justification to my family.
Next morning early the boats arrived from the ships, bringing off the captain of the other vessel and some of the superior officers. Vanstrooken, I was sorry to hear, had been badly wounded and was confined to his cabin. The ships had entered the bay at daylight and were now anchored where the pirate vessel had lain.