“I have thought of that,” said Mr Mason, with a perplexed look, “and intended to speak to you on the subject, but events have crowded so fast upon each other of late that it has been driven out of my mind. No doubt, if the Foam and the Avenger are one and the same vessel, as seems too evident to leave much room for doubt, then Bumpus is a pirate, for he does not deny that he was one of the crew. But he acts strangely for a pirate. He seems as much at his ease amongst us as if he were the most innocent of men. Moreover, his looks seem to stamp him a thoroughly honest fellow. But, alas! one cannot depend on looks.”
“But where is the man?” asked Henry.
“He is asleep in the small closet off the kitchen,” said Mrs Stuart, “where he has been lying ever since you returned from the heathen village. Poor fellow, he sleeps heavily, and looks as if he had been hurt during all this fighting.”
“Hurt! say you?” exclaimed Henry, laughing; “it is a miracle that he is now alive after the flight he took over the north cliff into the sea.”
“Flight! over the north cliff!” echoed Mrs Stuart in surprise.
“Ay, and a fearful plunge he had.” Here Henry detailed poor Jo’s misadventure. “And now,” said he, when he had finished, “I must lock his door and keep him in. The settlers have forgotten him in all this turmoil; but depend upon it if they see him they will string him up for a pirate to the first handy branch of a tree without giving him the benefit of a trial; and that would not be desirable.”
“Yet you would have shot Gascoyne on mere suspicion without a thought of trial or justice,” said Mrs Stuart.
“True, mother, but that was when I was seizing him, and in hot blood,” said Henry, in a subdued voice. “I was hasty there, no doubt. Lucky for us both that the pistol missed fire.”
The widow looked as if she were about to reply, but checked herself.
“Yes,” said Mr Mason, recurring to the former subject, “as we shall be away a few days, we must lock Bumpus up to keep him out of harm’s way. Meanwhile—”