"Not at all, sir," replied the captain. "If I'd overhauled your brig before that pirate fell a-foul of you, why, then, it would have been a different thing; but, shiver my timbers, if I ever make war against a ship's crew in distress. No, no—I picked you up at sea, and I don't consider you at all in the light of enemies. I will set you adrift again the first chance I have."
"Not on a raft, I hope, Captain Greene, ha! ha! ha!"
"No, but I shall lay the Raker alongside of the first craft I see that sports a British flag; and after I have taken it, why I'll put you and your crew aboard, and you may make the best of your way back to England."
"Suppose you should run a-foul of one of our frigates."
"Never fear that—the little Raker will take care of herself. She can outsail any thing that floats, now that we have sunk that bloody pirate. I do think that he could sail away from her. I always run up to a vessel or run off from her, just as my spy-glass tells me I'd better do. You may depend on seeing old England again before a great while, Captain Horton, or I'm much mistaken."
"I shant be sorry to come within hail of her white cliffs again, though I did not expect, two weeks ago, that I should see them for many a long month."
Julia and Florette were seated in the little cabin below; the French girl was weeping bitterly. She had done little else since she had been removed to the privateer. Julia had in vain endeavored to console her; and rightly judging that it would be better to allow her grief to have full vent, she had for several days done little but to see to all her wants, and whisper an occasional word of cheerfulness and encouragement. She determined, however, on this morning to make another attempt to console the unfortunate girl.
"My dear Florette," said she, "why do you so continually mourn; all that has happened cannot now be remedied."
"I know it, lady."
"Then do not weep, Florette, you shall once more see your native France; and you will be happy again."