There ye wrong me.
Through me you are brought to know true friends from secret enemies;
henceforward ye'll know which to trust and which to mistrust."
Sir Oliver seemed to rouse himself a little from his passivity,
stimulated despite himself by the impudence of this rogue. He stretched
a leg and smiled sourly.
"You'll end by telling me that I am in your debt," said he.
"You'll end by saying so yourself," the captain assured him. "D'ye know
what I was bidden do with you?"
"Faith, I neither know nor care," was the surprising answer, wearily
delivered. "If it is for my entertainment that you propose to tell me,
I beg you'll spare yourself the trouble."
It was not an answer that helped the captain. He pulled at his pipe a
moment.
"I was bidden," said he presently, "to carry you to Barbary and sell you
there into the service of the Moors. That I might serve you, I made
believe to accept this task."
"God's death!" swore Sir Oliver. You carry make-believe to an odd
length."
"The weather has been against me. It were no intention o' mine to ha'
come so far south with you. But we've been driven by the gale. That is
overpast, and so that ye'll promise to bear no plaint against me, and to
make good some of the loss I'll make by going out of my course, and
missing a cargo that I wot of, I'll put about and fetch you home again
within a week.
Sir Oliver looked at him and smiled grimly.
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