“I am angry with myself—the more so, that I little imagined that you would have remained with me after my breaking my oath. Either you must have felt great interest about those people, or you must have great confidence in me, a confidence winch I have proved that I do not deserve.”
“That you did forget yourself, I grant; but I have that confidence that it will be a warning to you, and you will not forget yourself again; I therefore remain with you with perfect confidence, feeling I am quite safe, until you think proper to give me my liberty.”
“You will wish to leave me then?”
“I have relations and friends—a profession to follow. What can I gain by remaining here, except your friendship? I never will be a pirate, you may be assured, I wish from my heart that you were not one.”
“And who should be pirates if the blacks are not?” replied Vincent. “Have they not the curse of Cain? Are they not branded? Ought not their hands to be against every one but their own race? What is the Arab but the pirate of the desert—the sea of sand? Black is the colour for pirates. Even the white pirates feel the truth of this, or why do they hoist the black flag?”
“At all events, it’s a profession that seldom ends well.”
“And what matter does that make? We can die but once—I care not how soon. I have not found life so very sweet as to care for it, I assure you. Cato, there is but one thing sweet in existence—one feeling that never clogs and never tires, and that is revenge.”
“Are not love and friendship sweet? I certainly know nothing about the first.”
“I know no more than you do of it. They say friendship is the more lasting; and as a proof of how lasting that is I snapped my pistol at you, and, had it not missed fire, should have killed the only one for whom I ever felt friendship in this world.”
“That’s a bad habit you have of carrying your pistols at all times; they are too handy, and give no time or reflection. Only suppose, now, you had blown out my brains, you would have been very sorry.”