“A pretty pickle, sure enough——”
“M. de Gourgues, had you thought,” interrupted De Brésac quietly, “that they may take us for Spaniards?”
“But even so——”
“Seigneur, I am willing to take a risk. If Dariol will go with me, I will go to the beach asking for Satouriona——”
A murmur arose among those within hearing. It seemed to many a most daring thing to offer; for to our people, many of whom had never passed the borders of France, these Indians were as wild beasts or Africans, fit only to be shot or captured as slaves. For me, I believed with Brésac and having been at the council table with Satouriona I foresaw little harm if he were put among the natives upon the beach. So when Dariol had said that he would go, I too offered my services.
But De Gourgues in his uncertain and dangerous mood was of a different mind.
“I have no humor to lose all my men upon such a fool’s venture,” he said. “Dariol may go, if he have the hardihood. M. de Brésac——”
“Seigneur,” interrupted the Chevalier, “this man must be rowed ashore. He cannot talk and make signs to these Indians, rowing at the same time. It is I who first offered this service.”
De Gourgues frowned, debating for some little time, but at last gave orders that a boat should be lowered into the water. Every persuasion that I might, I used upon him until I saw that further argument was mere waste of words. He would not let me go.