"Very well. Our captain is willing to consider conditions. You came down on us to take us—a quiet craft sailing in free waters. You attack us without cause. We summon all hands, and you run. We follow, you ask for truce. It is granted. We are not hard—no. We only want our rights. Admit them; we'll make surrender easy, and the matter is over."
Lafarge gasped. She was forcing his hand. She would not understand his oblique suggestions. He saw only one way now, and that was to meet her, boast for boast.
"I haven't come to surrender," he said, "but to demand."
"M'sieu'," Joan said grandly, "there's nothing more to say. Carry word to your captain that we'll overhaul him by sundown, and sink him before supper."
Lafarge burst out laughing.
"Well, by the Lord, but you're a swashbuckler, Joan—"
"M'sieu'—"
"Oh, nonsense! I tell you, nonsense! Let's have over with this, my girl. You're the cleverest woman on the continent, but there's a limit to everything. Here, tell me now, and if you answer me straight I'll say no more."
"M'sieu', I am here to consider conditions, not to—" "Oh, for God's sake, Joan! Tell me now, have you got anything contraband on board? There'll be a nasty mess about the thing, for me and all of us, and why can't we compromise? I tell you honestly we'd have come on, if I hadn't seen you aboard."
Joan turned her head back with a laugh. "My poor m'sieu'! You have such bad luck. Contraband? Let me see? Liquors and wines and tobacco are contraband. Is it not so?" Lafarge nodded.