"Aw!" said he, "there's plenty of sugar, ain't there, John?" And that
worthy smiled as he pointed toward an open canister of that dainty.
"But I haven't any pan."
"Yes, you have, too, got a pan. Here's one a-settin' right here in
front of you. Come on now, Auntie. We're goin' to have duck and
terrapin and oysters and everything--all a fellow would want, besides
that, is just fudges."
Helena stood preoccupied and hesitant, hardly hearing what he said, as
I fancy. At once L'Olonnois' attitude changed. Folding his arms, he
turned toward her sternly.
"Woman!" said he, "are you not a captive to our band? Then who gives
orders here? Either you make fudges, or your life's blood stains these
sands!"
"Oh, all right, Jimmy," she said listlessly. "I'll make them, if you
like."
"You'd better," remarked that worthy sententiously. "Of course," he
added, seeking to mollify his victim, over whom he thus domineered,
"it ain't just like it is back home on the stove, but you'll have to
get used to that, because we're going to live here forever. And," he
added, casting a glance of his stern blue eyes upon her, "it is the
part of the captive maid ever to live happily with the chief of the
pirate band."
Whereupon Helena and Jimmy both looked up and saw me standing,
unwilling listener to all that had been said. Helena moved away and
pretended to be busy with the material for her confections.
"Aw, shucks, Black Bart," said Jimmy, turning to me--"ain't that just
like a woman?--They won't never play the game."