I began eating slowly, exhibiting an indifference I was far from feeling, yet swiftly determining that no matter how much antagonism might exist between the two men, I would never trust the Creole. Still I might use him to advantage; induce him to talk freely under the spur.
"What has he done to you?" I asked carelessly.
"By Gar!—what!" firing up at the recollection. "Get out o' here, yer damn coon!" turning fiercely upon the steward, and then leaning across the table, lowering his voice, which yet trembled with passion. "Sacre, M'sieur, it was I do his dirty work five—seek—year. He no sailor, but I sail ze sheep for him—see? Tree, four time I sail ze sheep, an' he make ze money. Vat he geef me? Maybe one hundred ze month—bah! eet was to laugh. Zen he fin' zat Dutch hog, Herman, an' make of heem ze furst officer. He tell eet all me nice, fine, an' I tink maybe eet all right. You know he promise beeg profit—hey! an' I get ze monies. Oui, it sound good. But Herman big brute; he gif me ze ordaire, and I not like eet. I tells ze Capitaine, an' by Gar! he keep me tied up before ze port watch. You stan' zat, M'sieur?"
I shook my head, uncertain just what stand to take.
"Nevar!" he went on, barely pausing for breath. "I show ze damn half-breed; you vait, I git heem."
"What do you mean by half-breed, Broussard?" I questioned, surprised.
He laughed, but not pleasantly.
"He vas ze mongrel—sure; you know not zat? Sacre, I tell you zen. What you zink him, white man? Pah! you see hees mother—she mulatto. Ze damn dog!"
"How do you know that?"
"How I know! I tell you I sail with heem long while. He nevar tell, but I fin' eet out. I listen, I hear ze talk, but I say noddings, M'sieur. Vat I care while he treat me right? But now I show heem vat I know. He not lord eet over me ven ol' Sallie vas his mother—by Gar! no!"