“In truth, Mr Terence, I’m not fond of the looks Dan Hoolan casts at me when I go forward,” he said. “I shouldn’t be surprised on waking some night to find him after cutting my throat or giving me a knock on the head, for he knows that if it hadn’t been for poor Ben and Tim Logan and me, he would have tried to kill you, Mr Terence, that you might not appear against him; but we fought as long as we could, till the French lieutenant came on deck, and there was only myself remaining unhurt.”
I felt very certain that what Larry said was true, and La Touche afterwards corroborated the account. How Larry had escaped seemed a wonder, till I heard that he had seized a handspike, and using it as a shillelah, or rather as a singlestick, had kept his enemies at bay, and defended himself. Whenever I saw Hoolan on deck, I observed that he cast sinister looks at Larry and me, and I felt very sure that if he had an opportunity he would carry out his threat of putting an end to us. When I told La Touche of Larry’s wish, and his reason for it, after speaking to the lieutenant, he said it should be complied with. At meal-time the officers invited me into the cabin, and, to do them justice, treated me with as much courtesy as if I had been a willing guest.
“We have changed places, but we hope that you don’t bear us any ill-will,” said La Touche, filling up my glass with claret. “Here’s to your health, and may our friendship endure as long as our lives. When peace is established between our two countries which I suppose will be some day or other, I shall be enchanted if you will pay me a visit at my father’s château in Normandy.”
“With the greatest pleasure in the world,” I answered; “though I confess I didn’t think you would play me so cruel a trick.” I didn’t wish to use a harsher expression.
“Believe me, monsieur, that it was from no design of mine. I but performed my duty. Until the vessel was in the hands of the mutineers, I was not aware myself of what was going to happen. Monsieur Dubois will corroborate what I state.”
“La Touche speaks but the truth,” said the lieutenant. “He acted under my orders, for, knowing his sense of honour, I didn’t confide my plan to him.”
I was very glad to hear this, as I was much inclined to like La Touche, and was grieved to suppose that I had been disappointed in him.
The weather, after the hurricane which had been the chief cause of my misfortune, rapidly moderated, and became very fine; and though the wind was generally light, the brig made good way to the south-westward. During the day one of the Frenchmen, or La Touche himself, was constantly at the masthead, on the look-out for vessels, either to avoid suspicious strangers, or hoping to fall in with one of their cruisers. The lieutenant had at first intended to steer for Havanna, on the northern coast of Cuba; but just as we passed the latitude of Jamaica the wind shifted to the westward, and he determined to run for Port-au-Prince, at the westward end of Saint Domingo. He didn’t conceal his intentions from me; indeed there was no object in his doing so. He asked me whether we were likely to fall in with English cruisers between Jamaica and Cuba. I told him what I believed to be the case, that they would most probably be found on the south or west side of the island, looking out for the French and Spanish fleets expected to be coming from Havanna.
“I am surprised, indeed, that we have not fallen in with one of our cruisers already,” I said.
“There is a reason for that,” he remarked. “The hurricane, of which we only felt the edge, will have driven them into port, or have sent them ashore, or to the bottom. I thought of that before I ventured here, and calculated that it must have been some days before they could put to sea again.”