Then the tug slowed up, the Ninety-Nine came on gaily, and at a
good distance came up to the wind, and stood off.
"What do you want?" asked Tarboe through his speaking-tube.
"A parley," called Mr. Martin.
"Good; send an officer," answered Tarboe.
A moment after, Lafarge was in a boat rowing over to meet another boat
rowed by Joan alone, who, dressed in a suit of Bissonnette's, had
prevailed on her father to let her go.
The two boats nearing each other, Joan stood up, saluting, and Lafarge
did the same.
"Good-day, m'sieu'," said Joan, with assumed brusqueness, mischief
lurking about her mouth. "What do you want?"
"Good-day, monsieur; I did not expect to confer with you."
"M'sieu'," said Joan, with well-acted dignity, "if you prefer to confer
with the captain or Mr. Bissonnette, whom I believe you know in the
matter of a pail, and--"
"No, no; pardon me, monsieur," said Lafarge more eagerly than was good
for the play, "I am glad to confer with you, you will understand--you
will understand--" He paused.
"What will I understand?"
"You will understand that I understand!" Lafarge waved meaningly towards
the Ninety-Nine, but it had no effect at all. Joan would not give the
game over into his hands.
"That sounds like a charade or a puzzle game. We are gentlemen on a
serious errand, aren't we?"
"Yes," answered Lafarge, "perfect gentlemen on a perfectly serious
errand!"
"Very well, m'sieu'.
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