It was the sturdy, outspoken exclamation of an honest English gentleman, and as the buccaneer heard it, Humphrey felt his hand seized in a firm grip, to be held for a few moments and then dropped.
“But he’s dead,” continued Humphrey. “Let him rest. But tell me—the sister—Oh!”
A long look of apology and pity followed the ejaculation, as Humphrey recalled the scene in the temple, where the long coffin lay draped with the Union Jack—the anguish of the figure on its knees, and the passionate words of adjuration and prayer. It was as if a veil which hid his companion’s character from him had been suddenly torn aside, and a look of sympathy beamed from his eyes as he stretched out his hand in a frank, manly fashion.
“I beg your pardon,” he cried, softly. “I did not know all this. I am sorry I have been so abrupt in what I said.”
“I have nothing to forgive,” said the buccaneer, warmly, and his swarthy cheeks glowed as Humphrey gazed earnestly in his eyes.
“And for the sake of brave old Devon and home you spared my life and treated me as you have?”
“Not for the sake of brave old Devon,” said the buccaneer, gravely, “but for your own. Now, Captain Humphrey Armstrong, can we be friends?”
“Yes!” exclaimed Humphrey, eagerly, as he stretched out his hand. “No!” he cried, letting it fall. “It is impossible, sir. I have my duty to do to my king and those I’ve left at home. I am your prisoner; do with me as you please, for, as a gentleman, I tell you that what you ask is impossible. We are enemies, and I must escape. When I do escape my task begins again—to root out your nest of hornets. So for heaven’s sake, for the sake of what is past, the day I escape provide for your own safety; for my duty I must do!”
“Then you refuse me your friendship?”
“Yes. I am your enemy, sworn to do a certain duty; but I shall escape when the time has come, I can say no more.”