"Oh, Master Bob, I doubt me the cap'n dead or close to it, and Bones he—he—drove me forth, for—for fear I'd spy on him, says he—and him wi' the treasure-map he blan-handered from Flint in his weakness! By the Rock o' Cashel, I'm finished wi' pirates. They're a poor lot. Leave us go home."
"If we only could, Darby!" I said.
He dashed a grimy paw across his eyes and gave me one of his shrewd looks.
"Troth, Master Bob, I'm thinkin' we're none of us like to live else," he answered.
CHAPTER XXIII
CAP'N BILL BONES
Clump-clump-clump went the heavy sea-boots up and down the echoing length of the companionway, and the mutter of voices beat an accompaniment to them.
"Aye, there he lies."
"—— me, was there ever such a mug?"
"Ah, but ye'd oughter ha' seed him afore Long John put the pennies to his eyes!"