“Cap’n Silver, sir, to come on board and make terms,” he shouted. “Cap’n Silver! Don’t know him. Who’s he?” cried the captain. And we could hear him adding to himself, “Cap’n, is it? My heart, and here’s promotion!” Long John answered for himself. “Me, sir. These poor lads have chosen me cap’n, after your desertion, sir”—laying a particular emphasis upon the word “desertion.” “We’re willing to submit, if we can come to terms, and no bones about it. All I ask is your word, Cap’n Smollett, to let me safe and sound out of this here stockade, and one minute to get out o’ shot before a gun is fired.” “My man,” said Captain Smollett, “I have not the slightest desire to talk to you. If you wish to talk to me, you can come, that’s all. If there’s any treachery, it’ll be on your side, and the Lord help you.” “That’s enough, Cap’n,” shouted Long John cheerily. “A word from you’s enough. I know a gentleman, and you may lay to that.” We could see the man who carried the flag of truce attempting to hold Silver back. Nor was that wonderful, seeing how cavalier had been the captain’s answer. But Silver laughed at him aloud and slapped him on the back as if the idea of alarm had been absurd.