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"If you will give me your parole on behalf of yourself and your crew," he said, "not to attempt escape before you reach an American port, it will make your voyage far more comfortable."

Stanton shook his head.

"You know as well as I do that I can't do that, sir," he said.

"More's the pity," said Peabody. Stanton and his men would be left battened down below, at that rate, until the Princess Augusta reached Charleston. "You are sure you will have no refreshment before you leave, sir?"

"You're very kind, sir. Perhaps I will--only a small one, sir. Just four fingers. Thank'ee, sir."

Stanton looked at Peabody over the top of his glass; he forbore to comment--wisely enough, perhaps, seeing that he was only a prisoner--on the smallness of his host's drink.

"Confusion to the French," he said.

Peabody was a little startled. The French were at war with England; America was at war with England, but France and America were not allies. He wondered if he could drink such a toast, all the same, even in the privacy of his cabin. Stanton's homely wrinkled face broke into a smile at his confusion.