«I trust so. Sincerely I trust so.» And on that they parted.
Jeremy went back to dine on board the Arabella, and after dinner, pacing the poop with Blood, he told him what had passed.
Captain Blood was thoughtful. «There is cause enough to warn you. Though why the Governor should be troubling to do so is just a trifle odd. I'll pay him a visit, so I will. I may be able to help him, though I don't yet see how. Meanwhile, Jerry, if ye're prudent, yell be keeping the ship. Devil a doubt but Tondeur will be looking for you.»
«And I am to avoid him, am I?» snorted Jeremy.
«If ye're wise.»
«If I'm a coward.»
«Now isn't a live coward better than a dead fool, which is what ye'll be if ye come to grips with Master Tondeur? Ye'll not be forgetting the man's a fencing–master; whilst you…Pshaw! It would be just murder, so it would. And where's the glory of suffering that?»
Pitt knew it in his heart and yet would not admit the humiliating knowledge. Therefore, neglecting Blood's advice, he went ashore on the morrow, and was sitting with Hagthorpe and Wolverstone in the tavern of the King of France when Tondeur found him.
It was in the neighbourhood of noon, and the common–room was thronged with buccaneers, a few ordinary seamen from the Cygne, beachcombers and the land–sharks of both sexes who prey upon seafaring men, and particularly upon buccaneers, who are ever prodigal of their broad pieces of eight. The air of the ill–lighted place was heavy with the reek of rum, tobacco, spun–yarn and humanity.
Tondeur came forward leisurely, his left hand resting on his hilt, exchanging nods and bringing up at last before Jeremy's table.