MAROONED
“No, no, monsieur, I am strong!” cried Barbara. “See! I am strong. Let us leave this dreadful charnel-ship. If I must die, let it be alone upon the broad ocean. That at least is clean of evil intent.”
“Nay, madame,” continued the Frenchman. “If they would but sail us—”
“No, no. Let us go at once. I can meet death bravely if need be, but not here.”
“Monsieur, it will not be so bad,” broke in Jacquard. “The sea has gone down, and, although a long swell is running, it is low and smooth. A fair breeze draws from the west. The pinnace is stanch. The day is young. By the morrow you should raise the palms of Guanahani above the sea. I shall see you well provided with food, water, and weapons. Upon San Salvador are friendly Caribs, and in due course—”
“Mon ami,” said Bras-de-Fer at last, “you are right. Were it not for madame, perhaps, I should yet make some small effort to establish myself upon the Sally. They have beaten me, but I am grieving little. I have no stomach for
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