Me, an old bird at the pirate game—me, an old sportsman—me, who would not demean myself to wipe my boots on that carpenter’s neck! Sam Parsons, who is now in Virginia, was standing by when Every drove me to my cabin, and he would swear to my truth.
But does the king call him? Nay. But such treasonable scandalizers as Creagh—they get the run of the deck. Would the king, begging his Majesty’s pardon, bring a witness from Virginia to save a poor sailor’s life? Ask him!
I could not stay down in the cabin for thinking of my old commander and what might be happening to him. I almost cried for my old commander. At the risk of my head I went to his cabin. Two men stood guard at the door with naked cutlasses; I begged leave to go in, and at length they allowed me.
Oh, my poor old commander! He was red with fever, and the chirurgeon was anointing his temples. He got out of bed and began to dress himself, with me there to lend him a steadying hand.
“Ah, faithful May—” he was saying, when in came Mr. Every, smelling of grog, and with a most impudent look.
“I am a man of fortune, Captain,” he said, making a bow, “and my fortune I must seek.”
“I am sorry this happens at this time,” said my poor old commander.
“Come with us, Captain, and you shall still have the command,” replied Mr. Every.
Says Captain Gibson:
“No. I never thought you would have served me so, who have been kind to all of you; and to go on a design against my owner’s orders I will not do it.”