“Be aisy, won’t ’ee!” shouted Ted, holding him at arm’s length, and striving to keep out of his grasp. At the same time he dealt him a hearty cuff on the ear.
The words and the action appeared to have a sedative effect on the gendarme, who at once became passive, and in a few minutes the rescuer and the rescued stood dripping on the schooner’s deck.
“Thank ’ee, my friend,” said the gendarme in English, extending his hand.
“Och, ye’re an Irishman!” exclaimed Teddy eagerly, as he grasped the offered hand. “But sure,” he added, in an altered tone, dropping the hand and glancing at the man’s uniform, “ye must be a poor-spirited craitur to forsake yer native land an’ become a mounseer.”
“Ireland is not my native land, and I am not an Irishman,” said the gendarme, with a smile. “My mother was Irish, but my father was French, and I was born in Paris. It is true that I spent many years in Ireland among my mother’s relations, so that I speak your language, but I am more French than Irish.”
“Humph! more’s the pity,” said Teddy. “If there was but wan drop o’ me blood Irish an’ all the rest o’ me French, I’d claim to be an Irishman. If I’d known what ye was I’d have let ye sink, I would. Go along: I don’t think much of yez.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the gendarme, twirling his long moustache with a good-humoured smile; “nevertheless I think a good deal of you, my fine fellow. Farewell, I shall see you again.”
“Ye needn’t trouble yerself,” replied Teddy, flinging off, testily.
It was quite evident that the unfortunate Irishman found it hard to get reconciled to his fate. He could scarcely be civil to his mates in misfortune, and felt a strong disposition to wrench the sword from his captor’s hand, cut off his moustached head, and then, in the language of desperate heroes of romance, “sell his life dearly.” He refrained, however, and was soon after marched along with his mates to the stronghold of the port, at the door of which the French commander handed them over to the jailor, wishing Teddy all health and happiness, with a broad grin, as he bid him farewell.
Our unfortunates crossed a stone court with walls that appeared to rise into the clouds; then they traversed a dark stone passage, at the end of which stood an open door with a small stone cell beyond. Into this they were desired to walk, and as several bayonet points glittered in the passage behind them, they felt constrained to obey. Then locks were turned, and bars were drawn, and bolts were shot. The heavy heels of the jailer and guard were heard retiring. More locks and bars and bolts were turned and drawn and shot at the farther end of the stone passage, after which all remained still as the grave.