"Hang it! Are we not all more or less traitors? You are one—I am one; that is allowed: hence, believe me, it is useless to dwell any longer on this subject, and we had better revert to our business."
"Speak," the Major muttered in a gloomy voice.
"But, stay. I wish to give you a proof of frankness, and show you once for all how wrong you would be in keeping up, I will not say the least hope, but the slightest illusion as to what is going on here."
Then, tapping the table smartly with the heel of his glass, he shouted,—
"Come here, Nicaud, I want you."
A heavy step resounded on the cabin stairs, and almost immediately Skipper Nicaud's cunning face was framed by the doorway.
"What do you want, Michael?" he asked, without seeming even to notice the Major's presence.
"Only a trifle, my lad," the sailor replied, pointing to the officer, who had turned pale, through the emotion he felt. "Only a simple question for the personal satisfaction of this gentleman."
"Speak."
"Who is the present commander of the Seagull lugger, in whose cabin we are now seated?"