By degrees, though, as the heavy laboured panting of their breasts ceased, and their hearts ceased beating so tumultuously, a more matter-of-fact way of looking at their position came over them.
“Try if you can walk now,” said the buccaneer in a low voice. “You will be better in your own place.”
“Yes—soon,” replied Humphrey, abruptly; and once more there was silence, a silence broken at last by the buccaneer.
“Captain Armstrong,” he said softly, at last, “surely we can now be friends!”
“Friends? No! Why can we?” cried Humphrey, angrily.
“Because I claim your life, the life that I saved, as mine—because I owe you mine!”
“No, no! I tell you it is impossible! Enemies, sir, enemies to the bitter end. You forget why I came out here!”
“No,” said the buccaneer, sadly. “You came to take my life—to destroy my people—but Fate said otherwise, and you became my prisoner—your life forfeited to me!”
“A life you dare not take!” cried Humphrey, sternly. “I am one of the king’s officers—your king’s men.”
“I have no king!”