"Very well, I will take it, in the hope that we may meet again."
"I hope this will happen soon. A presentiment tells me that some day I shall kill you in a victorious battle, Captain Rolls."
"And one tells me that I shall get you hung, Robert Barthelemy."
"I thank you for your kind intention. By the way, you have only one keg of biscuits and a cask of water—that will not supply you until you reach London. May I offer you some of my store of provisions?"
"I will accept it, and trust that you will be fully repaid."
"Oh, it's not worth talking about. I would willingly lend you a few cannons, that you may not be captured on the way."
"I advise you not to do so, for if I had even two guns, I would try to recover my stolen silver."
"You are a good fellow. We shall meet again somewhere. Till then, farewell."
The two captains shook hands with each other. Meanwhile the pirates had rolled several casks of biscuit and water from their vessel to the brigantine. Barthelemy gave the sailors the key and, with a bound, reached the deck of his own ship, the pirates shoved off from the Neptune and, with three cheers, set sail. Half an hour later, two vessels were seen moving across the sea in opposite directions, widening the space between them every moment.