He watched Barnaby fill his glass, and so soon as he had done so began immediately by saying: “I do suppose you think you were treated mightily ill to be so handled last night. Well, so you were treated ill enough—though who hit you that crack upon the head I know no more than a child unborn. Well, I am sorry for the way you were handled, but there is this much to say, and of that you may believe me, that nothing was meant to you but kindness, and before you are through with us all you will believe that well enough.”
Here he helped himself to a taste of grog, and sucking in his lips, went on again with what he had to say. “Do you remember,” said he, “that expedition of ours in Kingston Harbor, and how we were all of us balked that night?”
“Why, yes,” said Barnaby True, “nor am I likely to forget it.”
“And do you remember what I said to that villain, Jack Malyoe, that night as his boat went by us?”
“As to that,” said Barnaby True, “I do not know that I can say yes or no, but if you will tell me, I will maybe answer you in kind.”
“Why, I mean this,” said the other. “I said that the villain had got the better of us once again, but that next time it would be our turn, even if William Brand himself had to come back from hell to put the business through.”
“I remember something of the sort,” said Barnaby, “now that you speak of it, but still I am all in the dark as to what you are driving at.”
The other looked at him very cunningly for a little while, his head on one side, and his eyes half shut. Then, as if satisfied, he suddenly burst out laughing. “Look hither,” said he, “and I’ll show you something,” and therewith, moving to one side, disclosed a couple of traveling cases or small trunks with brass studs, so exactly like those that Sir John Malyoe had fetched aboard at
