I broke off expressively, and the maire doubtless regarded his share of the reward as secure, for he raised no more objections. He accompanied me to the door, looked contemptuously at my comrades (who were in a great state of anxiety, I can assure you, knowing nothing of what I had in mind), and then went on to the wagon where the supposed deserters were lying. On seeing him the captain started up and with many contortions struggled to speak. "Why are they gagged, monsieur?" asked the maire. I repeated the explanation I had already given. "Terrible!" said the maire, and the captain grew purple in the face. "You perceive I could not allow my men's ears to be defiled by the language of such a ruffian," I remarked. "Perfectly, monsieur. Ah, scilerat!" he cried, shaking his fist at the infuriate officer, and pouring out upon him a torrent of loyal abuse which I find it impossible to translate. Then he turned to the bosun, and asked him how he had come by his wound. The bosun was quick-witted enough to take my cue, and, pointing to the captain, whose reputation as the most violent of the deserters was clearly established, he made through his bandages a series of grunts and roars which proved to the maire's satisfaction that his jaw was very seriously damaged. And last of all inspecting my comrades, who stood aside with trouble in their faces, he bestowed on them sundry offensive epithets which I was thankful they did not understand, for otherwise I am sure they would have forgotten their part and endangered everything by administering a castigation. The maire arranged to billet us all. Having seen my double set of prisoners securely locked up, and the deserters with Joe and the bosun accommodated in a room hard by, I offered to convey Monsieur Duguay-Trouin's message myself to his lieutenant, saying that I should be charmed to make the acquaintance of the deputy of so renowned a seaman. The maire took this as a great mark of condescension. Accordingly I went down to the jetty, not far below the maire's house, and accosting the officer in charge, a rough-spun seaman, I gave him the message, and then bantered him in a tone of good humor. "So the English have been too much for you this time, lieutenant," I said. "It is Benbow, they say; a terrible fire eater, is he not?" "Bah!" exclaimed the Frenchman. "Let him beware. He is no match for Duguay-Trouin, and we'll beat him again as we have done before, never fear." "But they say he is bottling up St. Malo," I said. "So he is," he replied with a laugh: "and while he is bottling up St. Malo we shall slip by to Havre; trust Duguay for that."