"Yes. You know this coast like a book—"
"There are plenty of others who know it better," interrupted Marcy, who now saw what the man's object was in coming there. It was two-fold: If Marcy would help him, he would give him good wages and a big share of prize-money to act as pilot; but if he wouldn't help him, then Mr. Beardsley would denounce him among the planters as unfriendly to the cause of the South, and that would be a bad thing for him to do. Marcy read the whole scheme as easily as he could have read a printed page, and if it had not been for his mother, he would have refused, point-blank, any offer that the owner of the privateer could have made him. But he would do anything rather than add to his mother's troubles.
"You must remember that I am not a professional pilot, and that a good many months have passed since I sailed my schooner along this coast," continued Marcy. "I might run you aground at the wrong time. You can get plenty of better men in Newbern or Wilmington."
"If I am willing to trust you it's all right, aint it? I don't want a professional pilot. I want somebody who knows Crooked Inlet. You've been through there often."
As Marcy could not deny it he said nothing.
"I aint going to follow the reg'lar routes of travel," continued Mr. Beardsley. "If I was, I could sail my own vessel without hiring anybody to act as pilot. My plan is to slip down to Newbern some dark night, after I get notice that my application has been granted, take my guns aboard, ship a good crew, and then run up to, and out of, Crooked Inlet. That will bring me a good piece above Hatteras, and out of the way of any war-ship that may be prowling along the coast. If one see me and gives chase, I'll put back through the Inlet where she can't follow on account of shoal water. What do you think of the scheme?"
Much against his will Marcy was obliged to say that he thought it would work, provided the pursuing vessel did not happen to be a steamer fast enough to cut the schooner off from the Inlet.
"And if she is, I won't go nigh her," replied Mr. Beardsley, with a grin which was intended to mean that he was altogether too sharp to be caught in that way. "We won't chase steamers, kase we know we can't catch 'em; and 'taint no ways likely that we'll go to sleep and let one of 'em get between us and the coast."
"Did you have to buy the guns you intend to put on the schooner?" asked Marcy, when the visitor paused and looked at him as if waiting for him to say something.
"No. They came from one of the forts taken by the State troops awhile ago. I borrowed 'em on condition that I give 'em back when they are wanted. They're too light for coast defense, but just the thing for our business. Well, what do you say?"