Diggory's lanthorn-stave jingled on the ground. "I do," he returned in pompous tones. "What keeps you abroad so late? Y'are seafaring men, I judge."
"Now I calls that clever," protested Silver with unconcealed admiration. "You sees us in the dark, and straight: off you says, 'seafaring men.' I can see you're a vigilant watchman, shipmate. I'd hate to be a neefarious fellow in your town. Blow my scuttle-butt, I would!"
Diggory's appreciation of this tribute was mirrored in his voice.
"'Tis essential that our citizens be protected," he answered. "Yet there are those who have accused me of sleeping on watch."
"Skulkers, they be—low-lived skulkers as ever was," Silver assured him. "I know how you feel. Here we've been a-workin' since sunup, a-shiftin' cargo and stowin' it aboard, and I'll lay you a piece of eight the captain never so much as sarves out a extry noggin o' rum."
Diggory's stave jingled again as he sloped it over his shoulder.
"The wisest men are not always those in authority, friend," he said. "Ye might think, from the way some of the Corporation talk, 'twas they bar the night-walkers and wastrels from the city's streets! Bah!"
And his wailing voice receded into Pearl Street.
"What are you night-walkers and wastrels a-sniggerin' about?" demanded Silver of his following. "George Merry, I'll lay into you with my crutch. Put some heft behind this here blessed cart. Ain't ye ashamed o' yourselves, a-laughin' at a brave, hard-workin' watchman as keeps wicked pirates from liftin' your goods?"
A few hundred feet farther on we rattled off the cobbles on to the planked surface of a wharf.