“Not dead yet then?” he said, with a half-laugh. Then to Mr Frewen—
“Well, doctor, you’ve patched yourself up, I see. What do you say to come under my flag?”
“Prison flag!” said Mr Frewen, contemptuously.
“Oh no, my good friend; in my little kingdom I am going to found. What do you say to a lovely spice island, all sunshine and flowers, where I can start a new civilisation? I offer you a fine position there as the only doctor. What do you say?”
“No, of course,” replied Mr Frewen, contemptuously.
“Ah, you’ll think better of it. I’ve started the idea too suddenly for you now you’re sore; but you’ll come round, and the sooner you do the more comfortable you’ll be. It must come to that. You’ll have no other chance.”
“We shall see,” said Mr Frewen, coldly.
Jarette looked at him sharply, and then all about the narrow cabin before fixing his eyes again upon my fellow-prisoner.
“Look here,” he said, in a sharp, fierce way. “You’re thinking of escaping—listen to this, boy,” he added, turning sharply to me, “it will do for you too. Now don’t think any more about such a bêtise, doctor,” he continued, “for it is of no use. There is no escape for you. If you tried to break out I have men on the watch whose orders are to shoot down any one who tries to get away, and that shooting down means pitching overboard afterwards. It would save me a great deal of trouble, but I don’t want any more fighting and killing: I want peace. There, you can think it over. You had better be friends, for it would hurt my feelings to have to set you afloat in an open boat with those brute bullies, Berriman and Brymer. Think it over, man. Your friend, Mr Preddle, is sure to join me, for I can find him a pond or a river in which to keep his fish.”
He backed out of the cabin, and the door was closed, while as we listened we heard the party move on to Mr Preddle’s cabin.