And he turned his back upon me and walked over to the other side of the deck.
Presently he turned and re-crossed the deck to my side, and remarked, in English—
“Look here, Dugdale, don’t be a fool! In coupling your consent to help me with those restrictions, you doubtless suspected me of an intention to involve you in some of those acts that you deem unlawful, and then to renew my proposal that you should join me. Well, if you did you were not so very far from the truth; I confess that I do wish you to join me. I have somehow taken a fancy to you, despite those old-fashioned and absurd notions of yours about conscience, and duty, and the like. Why, if you would only put them away from you it would be the making of you, and you would be just the sort of fellow that I want; you are pluck all through, and, once free from the trammels of the thing that you call conscience, you would stick at nothing, and with you as my right hand I should feel myself free to undertake deeds that I have only dared to dream of thus far, while, with our views brought into accord, we should be as brothers to each other. I am ambitious, Dugdale, and I tell you that if you will join me we can and will revive the glories of the old buccaneering days and make ourselves feared and reverenced all over the globe; we will be sea-kings, you and I. What need is there for hesitation in the matter? Nay”—and he held up his hand as he saw that I was about to speak—“do not inflict upon me those musty platitudes about conscience and duty that I have heard so often in the old days, and that have been made the excuse for so many acts of gross tyranny and injustice that my gorge rises in loathing whenever I hear them mentioned. What is conscience? The inward monitor that points out your duty to God and restrains—or tries to restrain—you from doing wrong, you will perhaps say. Well, let us accept that as an answer. I will then ask you another question. Do you really believe in the existence of the Being you call God? No, I am sure you do not; you cannot, my dear fellow, and remain consistent. For what is our conception of God? or, rather, what is the picture of Him that our ghostly advisers and teachers have drawn of Him? Are we not assured that He is the personification and quintessence of Justice, and Love, and Mercy? Very well. Then, if such a Being really exists, would the tyranny, the injustice, the cruelty, and the suffering that have afflicted poor humanity, from Adam down to ourselves, have been permitted? Certainly not! Therefore I unhesitatingly say that He cannot exist, and that the belief in Him is a mere idle, foolish superstition, unworthy of entertainment by intelligent, reasonable, and reasoning beings. And if there is no God, whence do we derive our conception of duty? I tell you, Dugdale, there is no such thing as duty save to one’s self; the duty of protecting, and providing for, and avenging one’s self, as I am doing, and as you may do if you choose to join me.”
“Have you finished?” I asked, as he paused and looked eagerly into my face. “Very well, then; I will answer in a few words, if facts were as you so confidently state them to be, I might possibly be induced to cast in my lot with yours; but, fortunately for humanity, they are not so, and I must therefore most emphatically decline.”
“Then I presume,” said he, with a sneer, “you still believe in the existence of God, and His power to work His will here on earth?”
“Certainly,” I answered, without hesitation.
“Do you believe that He is more potent than I am!”
“I really must decline to answer so absurd a question,” said I, and turned away to leave him.
“Stop!” he thundered, his eyes suddenly blazing with demoniac fury. “Answer me, yes or no, if you are not afraid! If your faith in Him is as perfect as you would have me believe, answer me!”
I hesitated for a moment—I confess it with shame—for I felt convinced that in the man’s present mood a reply in the affirmative would assuredly provoke him to some dreadful act in proof of the contrary; the hesitation was but momentary, however, and, that moment past, I replied—