“What is it?”
“Read this paper.”
A light was held close to the eyes of the prisoner, and the paper placed near enough for perusal. The instrument was a commission of piracy—a sort of half-legal authority, common enough in that day, to the marine of all European countries, under maxims of morality such as made the deeds of Drake, and Hawkins, and other British admirals, worthy of all honor, which, in our less chivalric era, would consign them very generally to the gallows.
As Laudonniere perused the document, he strove to raise himself, as with a strong movement of aversion;—but the prompt grasp of Genevois fastened him down to the pillow.
“No movement, or this!”—showing the dagger. “Have you read?”
“I will not sign that paper!” said the prisoner, hoarsely.
“Will you not?”
“Never!”
“You have heard the alternative!”
Laudonniere was silent.