“What I will? What I will, Joan? Do you mean it?”
“Yes. Pshaw! Your duty? Don’t I know how the Ministers and the officers have done their duty at Quebec? It’s all nonsense. You must make your choice once for all now.”
Lafarge stood a moment thinking. “Joan, I’ll do it. I’d go hunting in hell at your bidding. But see. Everything’s changed. I couldn’t fight against you, but I can fight for you. All must be open now. You’ve said there’s no contraband. Well, I’ll tell Mr. Martin so, but I’ll tell him also that you’ve only a crew of two—”
“Of three, now!”
“Of three! I will do my duty in that, then resign and come over to you, if I can.”
“If you can? You mean that they may fire on you?”
“I can’t tell what they may do. But I must deal fair.”
Joan’s face was grave. “Very well, I will wait for you here.”
“They might hit you.”
“But no. They can’t hit a wall. Go on, my dear.” They saluted, and, as Lafarge turned away, Joan said, with a little mocking laugh, “Tell him that he must surrender, or we’ll sink him before supper.”