“I wish you had seen the look of Mr Trevannion when I said this—he was stupefied. That I, Captain Levee, who had commanded his vessels so long—I, the very beau idéal of a privateersman, a reckless, extravagant dare-devil, should also presume to have scruples, was too much for him. ‘Et tu, Brute,’ he might have exclaimed, but he did not; but he stared at me without speaking for some time; at last he said, ‘Is the golden age arrived, or is this a conspiracy?’
“‘Neither one nor the other, Sir,’ I replied; ‘I follow privateering because I can do no better; but as soon as I can do better, I shall leave it off.’
“‘Perhaps,’ said Mr Trevannion, ‘you would wish to resign the command at once. If so, I beg you will not make any ceremony.’
“‘I have not wished to put you to any inconvenience, Mr Trevannion,’ replied I, ‘but as you kindly beg me to use no ceremony, I will take advantage of your offer, and resign the command of the Arrow this day.’”
“Surely, Levee, you have not done so?”
“Yes, I have,” replied Captain Levee, “and I have done so, in the first place, out of friendship to you, and, in the second, because I wish to be employed in the king’s service, and my only chance of obtaining that wish is doing what I have done.”
“How will that effect your purpose?”
“Because the men have sailed so long with me, that they will not sail under any other person, if I tell them not. Mr Trevannion will find himself in an awkward position, and I think we can force him to hire his vessel to government, who will gladly accept such a one as the Arrow.”
“That I believe, if from her reputation alone,” replied I. “Well, Levee, I thank you very much for this proof of sincere friendship. The plot thickens, and a few days will decide the question.”
“Very true, and now let me finish my story. ‘I am afraid,’ said Mr Trevannion, in a very sarcastic tone, ‘that I shall not be able to find any one to replace you in this moral age, Captain Levee; but I will try.’