"You said as much before—"
"Aye, so I did, comrade, so I did. But look'ee, 'tis a smooth sea, a fair wind—aha, it needeth no pistol butt to persuade you to it this time; you go of your own will and most express desire, comrade."
"I do, Adam."
"And who knoweth," said he, his gaze uplift to the Southern Cross that glimmered very bright and splendid above us, "who can say what lieth in wait for you, comrade,—hardship and suffering beyond doubt and—peradventure, death. But by hardship and suffering man learneth the wisdom of mercy, or should do, and by death he is but translated to a greater living—so I do hope. And thus, howsoever it be, all's well, Martin, all's well."
"Adam," said I, "give me your hand. You have called me 'fool' and fool am I, mayhap, yet in my folly, wisdom have I enough for this—to know you for my good friend and true comrade now and always!"
"Hark'ee then," said he, grasping my hand and leaning to my ear in the gloom, "give up this desperate quest, stand by me, and I can promise ye that which is better than empty vengeance—wealth, Martin, rank, aye, and what is best of all, a noble woman's love—"
"Enough!" cried I, "I am no weathercock and my mind is set—"
"Why, very well, but so is mine, shipmate, and set upon two things—one to fulfil my duty to the King in the matter of exterminating these pirates and the like rogues, and t'other to redeem my promise to our lady Joan in the matter of her father—your enemy."
"How, are you for Nombre de Dios likewise, Adam?"
"Just as soon as I have this ship in staunch fighting trim, for, unless you and your vengeance are afore me, I will have Sir Richard Brandon out o' the Inquisition's bloody clutches either by battle or stratagem—aye, though it cost me all I possess, and God knoweth I am a vastly wealthy man, Martin."