“Then he did not tell you to speak us in particular,” said Timmins.
“Si, signor, he expressly—oh! no—not you in particular—oh, no,” replied the young man.
“Have you nothing further to tell us?” said Timmins. “Because you see, though we are much obliged to you for your information, we are in a hurry to be on our course again, and if you should happen to fall in with the Signor Zappa and his brig the Sea Hawk, just tell him that the Zodiac will give him a warm reception if he attempts to play off any of his tricks upon her.”
“You don’t know the pirate,” exclaimed the young man vehemently, “he—”
“Do you know him?” said Timmins, fixing his eye upon him. The man’s glance quailed before that of the stout sailor.
“Oh no, signor, I don’t know him—I have heard of him though.”
“Oh! is that it?” said the mate, interpreting what he heard to the captain.
“Well, just ask him and his father if they will come down below, and take a glass of something before they shove off,” said Bowse.
A few words were exchanged between the two strangers in a low tone, and there appeared to be some hesitation on the part of the elder; but, at last, they consented, and followed the master into an outer cabin, which he had retained as his own, and where he and his mate messed. A door from it opened into the cabins engaged by the colonel, who, when he saw the strangers, retired also with his niece into their cabin.
As the door between the two stood open, all that took place in one could be heard in the other.