“You’ll go?”
“Yes. Perhaps he has something to say in answer to an offer I made.”
“An offer?”
“Yes, Bart, to join us, and be one of my lieutenants.”
“Join us, and be your lufftenant?” cried Bart.
“Yes, and my friend. I like him for the sake of his old generous ways, and I like him for his present manliness.”
“You—like him?”
“Yes. It is not impossible, is it, that I should like to have a friend?”
“Friend?”
“Yes!” said the captain, sternly; “another friend! Don’t stare, man, and think of the past. Mary Dell died, and lies yonder in the old temple, covered by the Union Jack, and Abel Dell still lives—Commodore Junk, seeking to take vengeance upon those who cut that young life short.”