“I dunno,” growled Bart: “May be. Where’s the good of fighting her at all?”
“Why do I pursue so many vessels, and take such revenge as I do!” said the captain. “Do you think I’ve forgotten mine and my brother’s wrongs!”
“No; you wouldn’t forget them,” said Bart, slowly; “but you’re going to run too much risk.”
“Not too much to gain such sweet revenge, Bart,” said the captain, excitedly; and the dark eyes which gazed at the rough, Devon man seemed to burn. “Do you know who commands this ship that has been hunting us these six mouths?”
“Yes; a brave officer in the king’s service.”
“A brave officer!” cried the captain, contemptuously.
“Well, that’s what they say; and that he has sworn to die or take us.”
“He—sworn!” cried the captain. “A brave captain! Did you and poor Abel find him so brave when you met him that night on the road to Slapton Lea?”
“What!” cried Bart. “No; ’tisn’t him!”
“That ship is commanded by Captain Armstrong,” said the captain, hoarsely; “by the man, Bart, who blasted my life; who sent my brother to his death out here, for it was through him poor Abel died.”