“Aha! zat is good,” said the captain, with a peculiar laugh. “Zen ve sall be bons amis—good friend, eh? Now eat. You like soup, fish, eh?”
“We don’t like to be taken off like this, sir,” said Vince, who turned away from the food, good as it was, with disgust, wondering the while how he could have eaten so hearty a meal with the captain before. “We want to know what you are going to do with us.”
“Ah, truly you vant to know,” said the captain, partaking of his soup the while. “But ze ship boys do not ask question of ze capitaine.”
“But we’re not ship’s boys,” said Mike haughtily. “We are gentlemen’s sons, and we want to know by what right you drag us away from home.”
“Aha! yes; you eat your soup, mon brave boy, vile he is hot. Perhaps ze storms come to-morrow, and you are vere you get no soups no more, eh?”
“Look here, sir,” said Mike, flushing in his excitement, “will you set us ashore somewhere if we promise not to tell?”
“Non,” said the captain shortly. “Ve talk about all zat before! Eat your soup.”
For answer Mike dropped his spoon upon the table, and the captain glared at him viciously, but passed his anger off with an unpleasant laugh.
“Aha,” he said, “you vill not eat. I know. Ze souris—ze mouse, you know, valk himselfs into ze trap and spoil ze appetite. Ze toast cheese is not taste good, eh?”
Vince had his own ideas, and he ate a few spoonfuls of the soup and took some bread; but it seemed to choke him, and he soon put down his spoon, and the man, who seemed to act as cook and steward, took away the tureen and brought in the fish—the soles they had seen—well cooked and appetising; but the boys could not eat, in spite of the easy banter with which the captain kept on addressing them, and the fish gave way to cutlets and vegetables.