“Eh, and why not? My friend Alcibiades is not a bad man,—a good honest trader who sails about among the islands of the Ægean. I will introduce you to him, Mr. Maurice, and I am sure you will like him. After all, our little piratical excursions are very innocent—no bloodshed—no violence—no burning of houses; we—we only levy toll, so to speak.”
“What a pleasant way of putting it!”
“What does it matter if you take openly or take secretly? the thing is the same, but only the mode of doing it is different. What we do in Greece, you do in England, but, simply because the latter is done under the rose and the former is not, your robbers of London are good, honest men, whereas we poor Greeks of the islands are scamps. Never mind, when we become as civilized as you, we also will mask our wickedness under the cloak of sanctity.”
“Oh,” cried Crispin, suddenly rising to his feet, “I am tired of this discussion! it is all aimless—about no one and no thing. I am going to turn in.”
“And I—am not,” added Caliphronas, springing to his feet; “fancy going down to a close cabin with such glories as this outside!”
He waved his arms aloft, where the brilliant sky smiled down on the still waters. Indeed, so placid was the sea that the stars, moon, and clouds were all reflected therein as in a mirror, and the yacht seemed to hang passive in the centre of a scintillating, hollow ball.
“When do we reach Melnos?” asked Maurice abruptly, as Caliphronas strolled away to the other end of the ship.
“To-morrow evening,” replied Crispin, pausing at the door of the cabin. “We will sleep on board, and visit Justinian in the morning.”
“Crispin, is there anything in those veiled threats of Caliphronas?”
“Perhaps,” replied the poet vaguely. “Caliphronas is a dangerous man, and is, as I have told you, a favorite of Justinian’s. However, I would not be surprised if Justinian dismissed Andros and put you in his place.”