“Oh, yes. Three privateers did manage to cut off some of our little despatch vessels in the Channel; but this fat Dutchman, Portveldt, had no hand in it.”
“But this 'fat Duchman, Portveldt, did capture the Mary Ann, and her master did give me this letter, and—and I was so angry.”
“The master of the Mary Ann must have been a fool.”
“Why so—for merely executing a commission? But wait, there is a postscript that will interest you particularly. Now listen while I read it,” and Dolly, again mimicking Portveldt's English, read—
“Dell dot oncivil yong mans Voster who vas dell me to go to ter tuyvel, dot I vill sendt der Bolicy und her master mit der grew to der tuyvel if he gomes mein vay mit his zeep.”
“Now, Captain Foster, what do you think of that, pray?”
“Very pretty talk; what do you think of it?”
“Well, I'm only a poor little woman; but if I were a man I would——”
“Exactly so, Dolly. Well, I am a man, and the Policy has brought a letter of marque with her from England this time, and so I may meet——”
“Oh, Captain Foster!” and Dolly's eyes brightened, “I am glad; but—but—please, for my sake, don't get killed.”