The man's head struck the gunwale as he fell, and he lay there, quite still, a trickle of blood issuing from his mouth.
Levasseur dashed one hand against the other, as if dusting them.
"Heave that muck overboard," he ordered some of those who stood idling in the waist.

"Then up anchor, and let us after the Dutchman." "Steady, Captain.

What's that ?" There was a restraining hand upon his shoulder, and the broad face of his lieutenant Cahusac, a burly, callous Breton scoundrel, was stolidly confronting him.
Levasseur made clear his purpose with a deal of unnecessary obscenity.
Cahusac shook his head.

"A Dutch brig!" said he.

"Impossible! We should never be allowed." "And who the devil will deny us ?" Levasseur was between amazement and fury.
"For one thing, there's your own crew will be none too willing.