“I want to escape,” said he, speaking in French. “That ship is a whaler. I have been on her a year, and it’s either escape or death for me.”
“You are English,” said the other, “though you speak my language well, and a gentleman. What brought you on board her?”
“Foolishness,” said Lygon.
The old man was silent for a moment, gazing at him as if he would read his very soul. Then he spoke.
“We have had two whalers here,” said he, “and we want no more.”
“I can well understand that,” said Lygon.
“Those men are even now cutting down our trees without permission,” said the other. “Let them go beyond that——” He slipped his hand on the gun stock. It was a Winchester repeater.
Lygon nodded.
“They take even the lives and liberty of men,” said he, “just as they are taking your trees. You can understand why I want to escape.”
“My name is Captain Charles Jourdain,” said the old man, “and yours?”