“What then, my Lord?”
“My yacht! the DUNCAN,” said Glenarvan, hotly. “It must be here on these coasts, skimming these very waves, playing the vile part of a pirate! It is here, John; I am certain of it, on the track of vessels between Australia and New Zealand; and I have a presentiment that we shall fall in with her.”
“God keep us from such a meeting!”
“Why, John?”
“Your Lordship forgets our position. What could we do in this ship if the DUNCAN gave chase. We could not even fly!”
“Fly, John?”
“Yes, my Lord; we should try in vain! We should be taken, delivered up to the mercy of those wretches, and Ben Joyce has shown us that he does not stop at a crime! Our lives would be worth little. We would fight to the death, of course, but after that! Think of Lady Glenarvan; think of Mary Grant!”
“Poor girls!” murmured Glenarvan. “John, my heart is broken; and sometimes despair nearly masters me. I feel as if fresh misfortunes awaited us, and that Heaven itself is against us. It terrifies me!”
“You, my Lord?”
“Not for myself, John, but for those I love—whom you love, also.”