“The foul fiend fly away with you! Then we shall raid the coast to the south——”
“Unhappily, I have compunctions about letting English blood.”
“But you are a pirate, known as such!”
“I have the name, yes, but not the honour of deserving it,” said Crawford. “Reputation, my dear captain, is a bubble blown from the pipe of fools; let us disregard it. My quest, or if you so prefer, my urge to freedom, draws me into the north or west; I care not which, so it be into strange lands. Now, if I have need of a ship I am entirely willing to seize any French, English or pirate ship which will further my purpose. I am not willing, however, to seize a ship and kill men merely in order to commit robbery. The distinction may be a trifle subtle to your mind, but there it is.”
Vanderberg blinked heavily at this speech. Crawford relaxed in his chair and puffed his pipe alight, quite at his ease. Frontin, grinning delightedly, watched the two men in obvious amusement. Apparently a cynical rogue, this Frontin was not at all the cynic he pretended to be.
“You are mad!” said Vanderberg, beginning to lose his good nature.
“On the contrary,” said Frontin, “he is entirely sane. That is a profound truth, my honest captain. Very few men are entirely——”
“Shut up!” snapped the pirate, and turned to Crawford. “Who the devil are you against, then?”
“Nobody,” said Crawford calmly, “and everybody.”
“But you’re a Jacobite.”