At length a small wizen-faced man appeared from below. His countenance wore anything but a pleasant aspect. By his dress, and the respect with which the others seemed to treat him, the boys had little doubt that he was the person of whom they were in search. They accordingly approached him.
“Are you the captain?” said Harry, bowing as before, for he did not forget his politeness, in spite of his wet clothes.
“Yes, I am,” said the wizen-faced man.
“Oh, you speak English; how glad we are!” answered Harry, “because we can thus thank you for saving our lives.”
“No great reason to thank me,” said the man, in an unpleasant tone.
“You speak English very well, sir,” said Harry, wishing to soothe him.
“I have had plenty of time to learn it,” said the captain.
“Where was that, sir?” asked Harry.
“In an English prison,” answered the Frenchman, with a grin, turning on his heel; “and I’ve no great cause to love those who kept me there, or their countrymen.”
“I’m afraid we’ve gained very little by the expression of our gratitude,” said David; “what are we to do?”