“He is a friend of my cousin; and I met him in Lancaster when I was there. He is the eldest son of an earl; and I believe they call him a viscount. He is addressed as Lord Fillgrove.”
“Do they know you are on board?” asked Clinch, much interested in the information conveyed to him.
“I don’t know: I don’t suppose they do. But we must get out of this place as soon as we can; and I know my cousin will help us all he can.”
“It is easy enough to say, get out; but how will you do it?”
“We must back down,—come clear down,” replied Gregory earnestly.
“That don’t sound like you, Dave,” added Clinch.
“Of course you know what I mean,” continued the chief mutineer, apparently annoyed at the remark of his friend. “We are not going to become chaplain’s lambs, or any thing of that sort.”
“But you must go down on your knees to Capt. O’Hara, the mighty one, who is the supreme authority on board of the Ville d’Angers,” answered Clinch, in a contemptuous tone.
“I will even do that, if it is necessary,” added Gregory.
“I won’t!” exclaimed Clinch.