"Troth, and I knew less then than I do now," he replied unblushingly. "Them pirates was enough to break the heart of Pontius Pilate. Barrin' Flint, there wasn't a one of them would be able to hold his own against such as us."
"Silver might——"
"He was a clever one, Long John; but he'll be in throuble, you see if he's not," insisted Darby. "Too graspin' he is by half."
"I care not how much trouble he is in," I said. "I want never to see him or any of his crew again."
Moira, sitting beside me on the settle of the tavern-porch, twined her arm in mine with a slight shudder.
"Never again!" she cried. "And if it will be the same to you, Bob, we'll stay off of the sea. I like fine the clutch of the earth on my feet and the whispering of the trees. Men may be cruel on the land, but faith, they're never so cruel as the cruelest of the seafarers. And all my days when I hear the rumble of the surf and the suck of the tide running out I'll be thinking of himself that lies so far and lone under the Spyglass—and of Master Murray, God rest his poor bones, and many another. The sea had them all! Ah, Holy Virgin, what a hunger it has for men!"
But Peter shook his head solemnly.
"Neen," he said. "Der sea did not take them all. They died from der greed dot cankered in their hearts. I do not like der sea, but der sea is der same as der landt. It works Gott's will."
We were silent for a space, looking out upon the busy life about us, the negroes in their bright bandanna headdresses, the planters passing on half-thoroughbreds, the decent townsfolk in hodden-gray.
"And you, Ben Gunn?" I said to the steward who sat across the porch from us. "Will you come north with us? My father——"