"Are you the gallant captain of this frigate?" asked M. de la
Pailletine, doffing his hat; for as yet he had received no sword in
token of the _Merry Maid's_ surrender.
"No, sir," Captain Runacles answered; "I have the honour to be his
lieutenant."
"He is killed, perhaps?"
"I fancy not."
"Then where is he?"
"Excuse me, monsieur, it strikes me he has yet to be taken."
"But the ship is ours!"
"Well, monsieur, you have hauled down our colours and I can't deny
it. But as for the frigate, I doubt if you can call it yours just
yet."
"What do you mean, sir?"
"Why, simply that you have not yet taken Captain Barker; and excuse
me if, knowing Captain Barker better than you can possibly do, I warn
you that that part of the ship which he sees fit to occupy at this
moment will probably be dangerous for some time to come."
As if to corroborate his words, at this moment the hush which had
fallen upon the frigate's deck was broken by the report of a firearm,
and two French grenadiers rushed upon deck from below and came
forward hurriedly, one with a hand clapped to a wound in his
shoulder.
"That," said Captain Runacles, "is probably Captain Barker. There is
a shutter to his cabin door."
"But this is trivial," exclaimed the French Commodore, frowning.
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