"Then my sweetheart would object to my becoming a Pirate," said the lad, weeping.
"Enough," said Tomb; "you are called from henceforth Dingy David. Now to sea!"
For ten years they plundered upon the Spanish Main, until they acquired so much money that Bilge Island, Tomb's business address, smelt of hoarded gold, and the beach glittered with jewels.
Then both Tomb and David—I am keeping the secret of his real name to the end—became tired of so much adventure.
They had sailed in many seas: the Spanish Main—commonly known as the Dining-room Carpetwaters—the Kitchen Archipelago, the Drawing-room Inland Sea, the Creek of Conservatory, and the Lake of Passages. They had roamed the Wilderness of the High Street, the terrors of the Gardens they knew, and the Gulf of Front Hall was common water.
So they retired for a breathing space and a wash to that Island where the neat cottage stood and the geraniums grew.