“Why, to tell you the truth, we are what are called ‘Jolly Rovers;’ and if you have a mind to come on board, we can find a berth for you, I dare say.”
“Many thanks,” replied I; “but I am not sufficiently fond of the sea, and I should be of no use,” (for by this term of Jolly Rover I knew that they were pirates).
“That’s as you please,” replied he; “no harm’s done.”
“No,” replied I; “and I thank you for your kind offer, but I cannot live long on board of a vessel. Will you now tell me which is the right track to the English plantations?”
“Why,” said he, “they bear right out in that direction; and I dare say, if you travel five or six leagues, you will fall aboard of some plantation or another—right in that quarter; follow your nose, old fellow, and you can’t go wrong.”
“Many thanks,” I replied; “am I likely to meet your companions?—they may take me for an Indian.”
“Not in that direction,” replied he; “they were astern of me a long way.”
“Farewell, then, and many thanks,” I replied.
“Good-bye, old fellow; and the sooner you rub off that paint, the sooner you’ll look like a Christian,” said the careless rover, as I walked away.
“No bad advice,” I thought, for I was now determined to make for the English settlements as fast as I could, “and I will do so when I once see an English habitation, but not before; I may fall in with Indians yet.”