Appadocca took the flags and adjusted them in a particular manner on the line.
“Stop!” cried the commander, when they were about to be hoisted. “What warrant have I that you will not say more than is necessary?” he inquired of Appadocca.
“None, my lord, except my word,” cooly replied Appadocca, “if you consider this of any value, take it, if not, reject it. But recollect, my lord, if I had been inclined to be a deceiver, I should have remained in the society of mankind, and should have prospered by coating over my rascality with the varnish either of mock benevolence or of sanctimony; I should not have openly braved the strength and ordinary notions of the world.”
“Very well, sir, proceed,” said the commander.
“Within a few minutes after the completion of the signals, you will hear the answer—the report of many guns fired at the same time,” said Appadocca, and made a sign to hoist.
“What is the fellow going to do?” inquired the sailors one of the other.
“He is going to speak to the ‘old boy,’ I suppose,” answered one.
“He won’t do him much good, I fancy,” remarked the other.
“No, he will leave him in the hands of the landsharks, I guess,” said another.
In the mean time, continuing to make the signals, Appadocca adjusted and re-adjusted the four flags in a great variety of ways, and, at last, said to the commander:—