“He means that very likely there are friends of the pirates in one of these boats, and that we had better begin shooting, so as to take off attention from our real purpose.”
“Yes, allee same; p’laps pilate fliend in lit’ boat go and tell Queen Victolia foleign devil sailor boy come catchee.”
“Oh, I see,” said Mr Brooke. Then, turning to me, “You do understand a little French, don’t you?”
“Well, sir, I used to learn some at school,” I replied, feeling very doubtful about my proficiency.
“I daresay you can understand my Stratford-atte-Bow French,” said Mr Brooke, laughing.
“I’ll try, sir,” I said; and he said to me directly in excellent French—
“I feel doubtful about this man. You have seen more of him than I have. Do you think he is honest, or leading us into a trap?”
“Honest, sir,” I said, “I feel certain.”
“Well, then, we will trust him fully; but if he betrays us, and I can get a last shot—well, then—”
“He’ll be sorry for it, sir,” I said, for Mr Brooke did not finish his remark.