Then, being especially requested to do so, the Sergeant, after reflecting awhile, gave his considered opinion.
"Sir," he said to Orme, "we are three white men here consorting with a mob of quarter-bred African Jews and one real lady.

It seems to me that we had best swear anything they want us to, trusting to the lady to see us through the mess, since otherwise we shall be mere filibusters in the country without official rank, and liable therefore to be shot on sight by the enemy, or any mutineers who get the upper hand here.

Also, we have the Professor and the Doctor's son to think of.

Therefore I say: Swear to anything in reason, reserving allegiance to the Crown of Great Britain, and trust to luck.

You see, Captain, we are in their power anyway, and this oath may help, but can't hurt us, while to refuse it must give offence to all these skunks, and perhaps to the lady also, which is of more consequence." "I think you are probably right, Sergeant," said Orme.