Mr. Bluett’s natural probity here led him into unwisdom.
“To be plain,” he said, “I haven’t heard no very good account of you neither.”
“Ah, ’tis so hard to get away from one’s sins! I’ll be honest, Cap’n, same as you be,” answered Mr. Cramphorn. “I doan’t deny but I’ve been a free-trader in my time, though ’twas little enough ever I made by it but a score on the wrong side of the Book o’ Life. But I’ve long been weary of ill-doing and be set ’pon the right road this many years, as Parson Yates will tell ’e. ’Twas for the cause of right I got these blows—same as Paul his stripes—an’ though I’ve been that man’s friend in time past, now I’m gwaine to take vengeance against un, an’ next time I hears tell of his games, you’ll be the fust to know it.”
“That will suit me very well,” answered Bluett.
“An’ I ax you to back me up an’ protect me henceforth in the King’s name,” continued Johnny. “To think of a man as would wallop an old blid like me! No better’n a murderer—there he is now! Doan’t you go away from me till he’ve passed us by.”
Jonathan Godbeer walked along the quay to the boats. He scowled at old Cramphorn and touched his hat to the officer.
“Marnin’, sir! I see thicky old rat have got ’e by the ear. I thrashed un last night, ancient though he be, for calling me a smuggler afore the company; an’ I’ll thrash un every time he dares to do the like. Take care how you put your trust in him, for the Faither of Lies be a fule to that man. He never done nobody a gude turn in’s life; though he’ll get a gude turn yet hisself when the cart goes from under him an’ leaves him dancin’ ’pon a rope. I warn ’e against un for all his white beard!”
Jonathan grinned at his own prophecy and departed; Cramphorn shook his fist and chattered curses; and Mr. Bluett went upon this way. He was puzzled but not ill-pleased.
“When thieves fall out, honest men come by theer own,” he reflected, and returned to breakfast.
Jenifer Pearn waited upon him at his meal and took occasion to give Mr. Bluett yet another version of the brawl that had troubled his slumbers over night; but as she loved Merry Jonathan, her story redounded little to the smuggler’s discredit.