“Bah! they’re cold and lifeless every one of them. It is the French women who respond most aptly and most—er—delightfully—eh, Vincente?”
“Yes, my captain,” he replied. “And of those saved from Fort Caroline”—and he grinned like a ghoul—“there are five or six most enticing.”
“And most responsive you would say—eh? You are successful upon most occasions, Vincente.” And so saying he poured out a pot half full of his fiery liquor, which he straightway drained to the dregs, setting the vessel down with a crash which split it half in two. Then he called to Goddard for a new pot and more liquor. But Goddard would not hear, and the other man was sent.
“No, ’tis not courtliness, Señor Pirato,” said he, leaning forward at last, “but a matter which concerns only the lover and the lady—the flash of an eye—the touch of a hand—which sends the pulses tingling; the opening of the lips—which tremble for the touch of kisses—this and much more.”
At this moment there was a noise without, which sounded like a groan, followed by silence, and I knew why Job Goddard had gone out by the sentry’s path.
“What was it?” said Vincente, staggering to the door. But Job Goddard met him there most unconcerned, pointing out over his shoulder.
“’Tis nothing but some drunken beast of a soldier,” said Patiño. And Vincente came back to the table.
I now knew there was no time to lose, and made up my mind upon a course of action. Catching the eye of De Brésac, I suddenly began to strain at my bonds, jumping and struggling as well as I could about the fire, rolling at last under the table.
“Here! here! what is the man about?” shouted Patiño. “Help, sentry, help, he will get away!”
Goddard came running in and fell upon me with all his weight as though trying to secure me. I felt his keen knife slit through the bonds and a poniard was thrust into my hand. Then we rolled out from under the table as though struggling furiously, and so upon De Brésac, Goddard turning him loose and arming him as he had armed me.