Here he stayed his drawing to glance at me askance, to sigh and shake his head. "You misjudge me," says he, "howbeit we'll say cautious—a cautious man with an honest, kindly heart as yearns to fellowship."
"And with a pistol 'neath each armpit!"
"True!" he nodded. "I might ha' shot ye a moment since and didn't—which doth but prove my words, for I'm one as never harmed any man—without just cause—save once, and that—" here he sighed, "was years agone. And me a lonely man to this day. So 'tis I seek a comrade—a right man, one at odds wi' fortune and the world and therefore apt to desperate ploys, one hath suffered and endured and therefore scornful of harms and dangers, one as knoweth the sea. Now let that man pledge me the blood-brotherhood, let him stand staunch and faithful blow fair, blow foul, and I'll help him to a fortune greater than ever came out of Manoa, El Dorado, or the Indies. Come, what d'ye say, friend?"
"I say sheer off and leave me to my sleep lest I mischief you."
"Ha' ye no lust for riches, then?"
"No more than I have to your company and I love that less and less."
"'Tis pity!" says he, shaking his head. "Aye, 'tis pity, for I do like you more and more, such a fine blood-and-beef, dare-and-be-damned, gibbet-like figure of a rogue, shipmate, as would grace a cross-roads better than most, which is one reason I was drawn to ye, d'ye see, I being a quiet soul—"
"And a pirate, like as not!"
"Easy, shipmate, easy. Passion is an ill word to steer by. And I'm a lonely man as seeks a comrade—"
"And I'm a lonely man that loveth solitude, so e'en now will I go seek it!" and I rose.