“But that will be going to Africa.”
“It will be the best thing we can do if we mean to keep out of the way.”
“I don’t object: I am as willing to go to Africa as anywhere else.”
“We can stay over there for a week or two, and then come back to Spain. We can hit the Tritonia at Cadiz or Lisbon.”
“I don’t think I want to hit her,” replied Bark with a sheepish smile.
“I was speaking for myself; and I forgot that your case was not the same as my own,” added Raimundo.
“I don’t know what your case is; but, as you seem to be perfectly easy about it, I wish mine was no worse than I believe yours is.”
“We will talk about that another time; for, if we are going to Oran, it is time we were on the way to the port,” said Raimundo. “If you don’t want to go to Africa, I won’t urge it; but that will suit my case the best of any thing I can think of.”
“It makes no difference to me where I go; and I am perfectly willing to go with you wherever you wish,” replied Bark, who, from hating the second master, had come to have an intense admiration for him.
Bark Lingall believed that his companion had saved the lives of the whole party in the boat; and certainly he had managed the expedition with great skill. He was as brave as a lion, in spite of his gentleness. But perhaps his respect and regard for the young Spaniard had grown out of the contrast he could not help making between him and Bill Stout. He could not now understand how it was that he had got up such an intimacy with his late associate in mischief, or rather in crime. Burning the Tritonia was vastly worse than he had at first considered it. Its enormity had increased in his mind when he reflected that Raimundo, who must have had a very strong motive for his sudden disappearance, had preferred to reveal himself rather than have the beautiful craft destroyed. In a word, Bark had made some progress towards a genuine repentance for taking part in the conspiracy with Bill Stout.