Ned Rackham was making no great headway with this stubborn carpenter's mate who was playing strong cards of his own.
"A drawn bout, Tobey," said he, with a change of front. "No more backing and filling. You ask a small favor. Fetch your man along, whoever he may be. He shall be done no harm by me."
"Even though he made a mortal enemy of you, Master Rackham?"
"Enough, Peter. I have many enemies and scores to settle. You have my assurance but I demand the lad's name."
"Not without his permission," declared Tobey. "Set me ashore and I will confer with him."
Grudgingly Rackham consented, unwilling to have a hitch in the negotiations. In a somber humor, the carpenter's mate returned to his impatient comrades on the island. They crowded about him and he briefly delivered the message, that they were desired to cruise under Ned Rackham's flag. This delighted them, as the only way out of a fatal dilemma. Then Tobey went over to sit down upon the palmetto log behind which Joe Hawkridge still sprawled like a turtle. The anxious boy poked up his head to say:
"What cheer, Peter? A plaguey muddle you found it, I'll bet."
"Worse'n that, Joe. Rackham wouldn't clinch it with his oath unless I told him your name. I plead with him for safe conduct."
"I'd not trust his oath on a stack o' Bibles, once he set eyes on me," exclaimed Joe. "As soon put my fist to my own death warrant as go aboard with him."
"That may be," said Peter Tobey, "but you will have friends. You can't expect us to refuse to sail on account o' you."