“Who told you?” he blurted out. Then, seeing that he had made a mistake, he blundered still further in his attempt to contradict himself. “No, by God, we don’t!”
“I thought so,” I answered, for his manner said “Yes,” though his words said “No.” I continued: “Is it a free-trader?”
The fellow turned white, his lips quivered, and his hand sought the butt of his pistol.
“Softly, friend, you have no enemy to deal with,” I said. “I have been in the jolly trade myself. Look at this.”
I threw open my blouse part way and gave him a glimpse of one of the richly mounted pistols that Captain Tew had presented to me.
“Have you ever seen that name before?”
His eyes gleamed recognition as he read the buccaneer’s name engraved in big letters on the hilt. “Ay, we sighted him two days ago.”
“Quite true. Bound for Martinique. I thought you would know the name. Now will you trust me? You have been suspected and even now the city officers are almost here to arrest you and your companions.”
At that moment the shrill rattle of the watchman’s whistle sounded from the street outside. The person who blew it may have meant to give them some chance to escape, for the free-booters were prime favorites with all who were not strictly addicted to honorable practices. However good the guard’s intention might be, I was not willing to allow my new acquaintances to profit by it. I was bound to have for myself the credit of saving the buccaneers. Their gratitude might be of service to me.
“Hurry,” I said. “We must barricade this corner of the room.”