“Eh bien,” cried the skipper, advancing, and bowing three or four times to the ground; “Je le——”
“Hold! hold! Mooshie!” interrupted Captain Strang; “none of thine own outlandish language, dost thou hear? Thou canst speak our tongue well enow for all purposes, so keep to that, if it so please thee.”
“Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine String,” replied the skipper, with a shrug, and a grimace, that showed his disappointment in being thus prevented from speaking to the Duke, in a language which would have veiled all he said from the apprehension of the captain of the guard—“Very vell, Monsieur le Capitaine; I vill make van attente to make onderstand de bad Englis of me to his Royal Highness de Duc d’Albanie.—I ave been send vid dis two cask of vin, as van cadeau from de marchand Beauvilliers at Bordeaux, to his Highness Royal de Duc d’Albanie, vid de ope dat de magnifique flaveur of de vine may please heem, and procure for de marchand van large ordaire from his Highness Royal, and from his royal broder, his Majesty de King.”
“I can promise nothing for his Majesty, friend,” replied the Duke; “but for myself, I would have ye thank Monsieur Beauvilliers from me, and say to him, that if the wine liketh me well, I shall send him an order; that is to say, if there be aught of likelihood of my being alive to drink of it when it comes to hand.—But what sort of wine is it that thou hast brought me?”
“In dat cask dere is shoise vine of Gascony,” said the skipper, pointing to that which Charley Stewart had helped to bear; “bot, goot as it is, I am force to tink dat de oder vine, in dis cask, vill give more plaisir to son Altesse Royale.”
“Sir,” said Sir Walter, bringing forward the cask, and speaking to the skipper in French, as if he were merely applying to him for orders, but in a tone so loud and distinct as to insure that the Duke should catch every word that fell from him—“do not show surprise at what I say, or recognise me, if you discover me.—We are all friends. This cask contains the means of escape, with instructions how you are to effect it. Let not the captain of the guard depart without an invitation to supper; the contents of this cask will tell you why.”
“Sacre cochon!” cried the skipper, with an angry air, and at the same time bestowing a smart blow of a rattan on the shoulders of Sir Walter. “Sacre cochon que vous estes!”
“What did the fellow say to thee, friend skipper?” demanded the captain of the guard; “and what didst thou say to him?”
“Mine Got! Monsieur le Capitaine String,” replied the skipper, “dis crew of mine is so great idil vans, dat dey vear out de patience of van Job heemself. I not be come to dis place ardly van moment, and bifore I decharge my cargo, ven dey must vant to leif me alone, and to go to run all over de cite, after de dance, and de Scottis preetee lasses. Be Gar, Monsieur Jean, you sall vork more vork pour dis, dat I do tell you, mon garçon.”
“Fear nothing, sir,” said Sir Walter, again in French, and humbly bowing to the skipper, as if making an earnest and contrite apology to his master; “act boldly; remember the south-western side—there thou shalt find friends beyond the walls.”