"Meaning?" said Saltash.
The sailor's look met his squarely. "You know what I mean," he said.
Saltash began to grin. "A fight to a finish, what? I'm sorry, mon ami. But I've got you beaten at the start. Shall I tell you how you can best keep that somewhat rash oath of yours?"
"Well?" The word fell brief and uncompromising. Larpent's face was as carved granite.
Saltash thrust forth a sudden hand and took him by the shoulder. "Just by effacing yourself, mon vieux," he said lightly. "Go back to The Blue Moon, take her to Fairharbour, and await my orders there!"
It was carelessly, even jestingly, spoken, but a certain authority lurked behind the words. Charles Rex knew how to assert his kingship upon occasion, knew also how to temper it with the touch of friendship.
Larpent's look did not waver, but some of the grimness went from it.
Neither anger nor indignation had any place here. He continued to look
Saltash straight in the face.
"And that would be keeping my oath?" he said.
"Even so," said Saltash.
"You mean," Larpent spoke with slow emphasis, "that to leave her where she now is, is to leave her in safe and honourable keeping?"