He shrugged his shoulders, and then grinned.

“What ze dif!” and he swept his hands about in expressive gesture.  “Sea—­land, if only one gets the price, M’sieur.  But for me I like to go, to move; not lie still an’ rot.”

“Of course,” falling into his mood, “that’s in your blood, I reckon, but the Captain said we were only to hide here for a day.”

“Maybe day, maybe week.  No one knows how long.  We wait till the sea is clear.  Bah! the man ‘fraid of shadow.  He give me sheep, an’ I show heem.”

“You ’d take a chance?”

“Oui, M’sieur.  I wait till dark, no more, den I take ze chance.  But ze Capitaine, he no sailor, M’sieur; I know heem long while.”

“How long?”

“Oh, seek, eight year.”

“Then you can tell me if he is really Judge Henley’s son?”

“Oui, M’sieur; ‘tis sure I can.  I hav’ been with heem there,” his brown hand outstretched landward, “where we got you, hey, many the time; besides, the Judge he been on zis sheep.  Of course he was son; why you think not?”

I shook my head, unwilling to discuss the affair with the fellow, yet impressed by his statement.

“I am beginning to believe I do not know very much about it, Broussard,” I explained briefly, moving aside to the rail.  “I came down South with another story pumped into me, that’s all.”

“And ze young woman,” he persisted, following me closely, “why she come?”

“For the same reason I did.”

He laughed, his eyes sparkling.

“More like ‘cause she love you, hey!  Sacre, she was fine-lookin’ girl, but,” shrugging his shoulders, “’t is the Capitaine, not ze mate, who may admire.”

I turned on the fellow, my blood boiling.

“What do you mean by that!  That Henley will dare intrude himself?”

“Sacre, an’ why not, M’sieur!  He is ze Capitaine; nobody tell him not on ze Sea Gull.  I know him seek, eight year, an’ he devil with women.  She not ze furst to be on board ze sheep.  Zar no use you be mad, M’sieur; he laugh at you.”

“Then for once he will laugh at the wrong man, Broussard,” I said soberly.  Regretting the threat even as I uttered it, I left him and walked aft, aware as I turned of the sneer on his face.  Yet even then, although burning with anger, I knew better than to remain.  I dare not speak the bitter words on my tongue, feeling certain that whatever I said would be repeated to Henley.  I despised Broussard, and would have taken the rat by the throat, but for a wholesome fear of his master.  I knew men well enough to understand the character of the Sea Gull’s Captain.  With unlimited power in his hands he was not an antagonist to be despised.  He was a cruel, merciless coward, and, in spite of my boast, I realized how helpless I was to oppose his will, here, in the midst of men who would obey his slightest command.  Nor did I doubt