MUTINY
ing balked of his vengeance. “He shall not get avay from me!”
There was a mingling of opinions, loudly and profanely expressed, and it looked for the moment as though the strife would be renewed. Yan Gratz’s Dutchmen stood by him to a man. And while the gleaming sword and pistolet of monsieur held them at a safe distance, they sought by their shouting of wild threats to make up for their other deficiencies. Barbara, hid behind Bras-de-Fer, sought valiantly to match her courage to his, but with pale face and quaking limbs she awaited the decision upon which rested his life or death, and hers. It mattered little which it was to be. She had suffered so much that anything—anything which brought rest—would be welcome. But monsieur had lost no whit of his aggressiveness. If he was silent, it was because silence was best. With a keen eye he noted the effect of the speech of Jacquard. He saw that his compatriot had chosen wisely in leaving his sword undrawn. Thus Jacquard retained his influence with the crew, whose sympathy and arms he could not have swayed alone
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