“Yes, yes, I know all that,” said Fitz; “but that doesn’t alter my position until he has quite got the upper hand and is acknowledged by England. I feel that it is my duty to be—to be—what do they call it?—neutral.”
“Oh, you are a punctilious chap. Then you would be neutral, as you call it, and let Villarayo smash up and murder everybody, because Don Ramon has not been acknowledged by England?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Fitz; “but these are all diplomatic things with which I have nothing to do.”
“And you have got a good idea, then, that might save us out of this position?”
“Ye–es; I think so.”
“And you won’t speak?”
“I feel now that I can’t.”
“Humph!” grunted Poole. “It seems too bad, and not half fair to the governor.”
“It is not fair to me to make me a prisoner,” retorted Fitz.
“He didn’t make you one. You came and tumbled down into our hold, and we did the best we could for you. But don’t let’s begin arguing about all that again. Perhaps you are right from your point of view, and I can’t think the same, only of helping to get the Teal out of this scrape.”