"If that were my only count against your honor—if, indeed, a pirate can have honor——"
"And why not?" says he sharply. "I conceive of honor as the quality of being faithful to oneself, to the ethical standard one has established for this life we pass through so precariously."
"So that if a man practices dishonesty toward all save himself he preserves his honor!" I protested.
"Now do you twist my thoughts," replied my great-uncle. "And in the same breath you raise a complementary question: What is dishonesty—or honesty? As I have told you before, I take from those who have much, those who prey upon others. I am no more dishonest than that William of Normandy, who seized upon England and farmed it out to his barons in payment for their assistance."
"You are clever with words," I sneered; "but I'll not be fooled. What have you to say of your craft in deluding O'Donnell into risking his daughter aboard this treasure-ship? Do you call it honorable to persuade a foolish unbalanced fellow to take an innocent young girl out of a convent, carry her half across the world, and then, to cloak a miserable conspiracy, plunge her into the society of such scoundrels as Flint and yourself?"
Instead of losing his temper, as I had expected, my great-uncle stared at me very earnestly throughout this tongue-lashing. A speculative look came into his eyes.
"You have seen this maid, I believe," he said.
"I met her by accident. 'Twas I saved her from walking into the Whale's Head after her father."
"You did well," he approved warmly. "And you spoke to her? Prithee, Robert, what manner of maid is she?"
"Oh, fair enough," I answered, wondering what he was driving at.