“There, thief and robber, villain and assassin, I wash my hands of you! I have done with you. Reach Havre when you like. Adieu!” and he spat at the barge.
The skipper looked as if he would have followed him, but thought better of it. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled out a cigar. The other, after standing insultingly on the bank for some minutes, heaping all sorts of imprecations and taunts on his late employer, swaggered away, and was presently caught up in a knot of belated sightseers hastening to the scene of the insurrection.
I waited till the coast was clear, and then descended to the river side.
“Citizen bargee,” said I, with a salute, “do you want a man to-day?”
The skipper looked up at me and took his cigar from his lips.
“Can you sail a barge?” said he.
“Ay, and tow it too if you like,” said I. “And as for wages, suit yourself, and give me what you like at the journey’s end.”
“I serve the Republic,” said the man.
“Vive la République,” said I. “She does not desert her sons.”
“Your name?” demanded he. “Belin,” said I, inventing a name for the occasion. “You are engaged, Belin,” said the skipper; “we start this minute.”