"Why are you not my foe, why don't I fling you into the sea, kill you at once? I would make myself a king to call your wife my queen."
The husband neither saw nor heard; when Barthelemy loosed his hold he fell back into his chair and snored.
Wild songs and the rattling of glasses echoed on all sides; each of the buccaneers had found a sweetheart, and the voices and laughter of women mingled with the oaths of the pirates; it seemed to be considered a special token of tenderness—and many of the corsairs bestowed it,—to fire their pistols in the room.
Barthelemy, with a trembling hand, held out his wine-glass to the Creole who drained it to the health of the corsair king. When she set it down, he was kneeling at her feet.
She had a fair round neck, and Barthelemy could not bear to see it without an ornament, so snatching from his own a diamond chain worth ten thousand dollars he clasped it round the beautiful woman's throat. Could he do so without pressing her head against his breast, and when it rested there, could he help kissing her?
All the buccaneers joined in such a thundering cheer that the walls shook, pounded the tables with their fists, and fired salvos of shots.
The husband slept on like a drowsy bear. Barthelemy clasped the Creole's slender waist.
"Come with me," he whispered beseechingly; "I'll buy you from your husband, I'll give him a million of gold in exchange. If he wants a fleet, I'll drive hundreds of ships here like a flock of sheep. Come with me, I will rob Satan of Hades and transform it into a Paradise for you. I will load you with treasures, overwhelm you with delights, come with me!"
"Ay, ay, Captain," shouted Moody from the corner where he sat surrounded by empty wine bottles, "drain the cup of joy and dash it against the wall."
Just at that moment a messenger entered, bringing dispatches for the governor.