Provence, one a Genoese; one, an old man, he who wore the sombrero
without a hole for a pipe, appeared to be a German. The fifth, the
chief, was a Basque of the Landes from Biscarrosse. It was he who, just
as the child was going on board the hooker, had, with a kick of his
heel, cast the plank into the sea. This man, robust, agile, sudden in
movement, covered, as may be remembered, with trimmings, slashings, and
glistening tinsel, could not keep in his place; he stooped down, rose
up, and continually passed to and fro from one end of the vessel to the
other, as if debating uneasily on what had been done and what was going
to happen.

This chief of the band, the captain and the two men of the crew, all
four Basques, spoke sometimes Basque, sometimes Spanish, sometimes
French--these three languages being common on both slopes of the
Pyrenees. But generally speaking, excepting the women, all talked
something like French, which was the foundation of their slang. The
French language about this period began to be chosen by the peoples as
something intermediate between the excess of consonants in the north and
the excess of vowels in the south. In Europe, French was the language of
commerce, and also of felony. It will be remembered that Gibby, a London
thief, understood Cartouche.

The hooker, a fine sailer, was making quick way; still, ten persons,
besides their baggage, were a heavy cargo for one of such light draught.

The fact of the vessel's aiding the escape of a band did not necessarily
imply that the crew were accomplices. It was sufficient that the captain
of the vessel was a Vascongado, and that the chief of the band was
another. Among that race mutual assistance is a duty which admits of no
exception. A Basque, as we have said, is neither Spanish nor French; he