THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
“I yield at last. From the time I came into the world I have been the very creature of fate. I have struck my colors, Cornbury. I have hauled down my gay pennons. I have left my ship.” He leaned for a moment brokenly upon the bulkhead. But before Cornbury could speak he started up. “No, no. Vice shall command here if she will. She will be but a poor mistress can she not serve me better than Ambition and Honor. Come, Cornbury. Come to the Spanish Main. There’ll be the crash of fight once more and a dip into the wild life that brings forgetfulness. Come, Cornbury.”
Jacquard, who had been listening to this mad speech with his mouth as wide agape as his eyes and ears, rose to his feet.
“Monsieur,” he asked, joyfully, “you will go with us to the Spanish Main?”
“Yes, yes!”
“And be a common boucanier, a cutthroat?” said Cornbury the ironical.
“Ay!”
“But, man, you have no position here; ye’ll be
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