"Lord knows. Not for some time, I judge," was the answer. Then Captain Hilton turned. "Take him below again," he ordered to my guards.
They stepped forward, and each laid a hand on my shoulders. I pushed them off.
"One moment, sir," I began. "There is a member of our crew badly wounded below with us. He will surely die unless something is done for him."
As I was speaking an officer had descended the ladder from above. I had seen the heels of his boots as he stood on the top step for some time. He was short and thick-set, with a mottled reddish face.
"Mr. Vyse, you heard what this lad said. Pray see that this wounded man is attended to in accordance with his hurt, and his place of confinement changed if necessary."
"Very good, sir," the short man answered, but he had such a mean look on his face that I took a distrust against him.
When I reached the hold again and was thrust in once more among my companions, there was a deal of questioning.
"You should have said you were a Lieutenant," said Sutton.
"It would have made no difference with a privateer officer," put in another seaman, Edward Brown, a Long-Islander. "They'd hang us all if they dared; and, mark me, they won't pamper us."