“You'll keep that opinion to yourself,” the Captain answered him. “Don't think I am the man to thrust my neck into a noose, without knowing how I am going to take it out again. I shall send an offer of terms to the Governor of Tortuga that he will be forced to accept. Set a course for the Virgen Magra. We'll go ashore, and settle things from there. And tell them to fetch that milksop Ogeron to the cabin.”
Levasseur went back to the adoring lady.
Thither, too, the lady's brother was presently conducted. The Captain rose to receive him, bending his stalwart height to avoid striking the cabin roof with his head. Mademoiselle rose too.
“Why this?” she asked Levasseur, pointing to her brother's pinioned wrists—the remains of Cahusac's precautions.
“I deplore it,” said he. “I desire it to end. Let M. d'Ogeron give me his parole....”
“I give you nothing,” flashed the white-faced youth, who did not lack for spirit.
“You see.” Levasseur shrugged his deep regret, and mademoiselle turned protesting to her brother.
“Henri, this is foolish! You are not behaving as my friend. You....”
“Little fool,” her brother answered her—and the “little” was out of place; she was the taller of the twain. “Little fool, do you think I should be acting as your friend to make terms with this blackguard pirate?”
“Steady, my young cockerel!” Levasseur laughed. But his laugh was not nice.