“No—not entirely—that is—it would scarcely become us, as men, to desert the females to the brutal power of those we should leave behind.”
“And would it become us, as men, to desert those who put faith in our fidelity? Mr Wilder, your proposal would make me a villain! Lawless, in the opinion of the world, have I long been; but a traitor to my faith and plighted word, never! The hour may come when the beings whose world is in this ship shall part; but the separation must be open, voluntary, and manly. You never knew what drew me into the haunts of man, when we first met in the town of Boston?”
“Never,” returned Wilder, in a tone of deep disappointment
“Listen, and you shall hear. A sturdy follower had fallen into the hands of the minions of the law. It was necessary to save him. He was a man I little loved, but he was one who had ever been honest, after his opinions. I could not desert the victim; nor could any but I effect his escape. Gold and artifice succeeded; and the fellow is now here, to sing the praises of his Commander to the crew. Could I forfeit a good name, obtained at so much hazard?”
“You would forfeit the good opinions of knaves, to gain a reputation among those whose commendations are an honour.”
“I know not. You little understand the nature of man, if you are now to learn that he has pride in maintaining a reputation for even vice, when he has once purchased notoriety by its exhibition. Besides, I am not fitted for the world, as it is found among your dependant colonists.”
“You claim your birth, perhaps, in the mother country?”
“I am no better than a poor provincial, sir; an humble satellite of the mighty sun. You have seen my flags, Mr Wilder:—but there was one wanting among them all; ay, and one which, had it existed, it would have been my pride, my glory, to have upheld with my heart’s best blood!”
“I know not what you mean.”
“I need not tell a seaman, like you, how many noble rivers pour their waters into the sea along this coast of which we have been speaking—how many wide and commodious havens abound there—or how many sails whiten the ocean, that are manned by men who first drew breath on that spacious and peaceful soil.”