Then I told her of the attempt to enter the cabin by night, and of the boy's villainy, showing her the hatch straightway.
"However," says I, "be assured that you run no greater risk from him than from the other villain. But I must beg you to repose as best you may in the big cabin to-night, and leave this chamber to me and the negro. We must rid ourselves of our enemies one at a time, with God's help."
"Surely you do not intend to let him enter by that trap-door, Benet?"
"Yes," says I, "that way must he come to the end he deserves. God knows I have no taste to the taking of life; but this wretch seeks our undoing; not we his. In self-defense I must kill him."
"But may you not as well foil him by shooting the bolt of the trap-door, Benet?"
"No," says I, "for that will only lead him to seek other means which we may not be prepared to frustrate. With a rope he may let himself down into the gallery beyond your cabin."
"I will run that risk," says she, "rather than you shall jeopardize your life for me. You will still be at hand to fulfill your promise, whether my enemy be this black or Rodrigues. At the worst we can but die."
"Ay, that is true," says I, transported with delight at this dear girl's concern for my safety; "but we must endeavor for the best rather than await the worst, and I make no doubt but that all will go well if you let me have my way. Nay, you must," I added, firmly.
And this firmness taking effect on her judgment (for women respect nothing so much as decision in a man), she consented to do as I directed.
When night fell she bolted the door of the outer cabin, drew her blinds, lowered the wick of the lamp till it shed but a mere glimmer, and sought repose on the sofett, though little disposed to sleep.