“Do you suppose, Livy, that I could let you borrow money from any man?”
“Then we could ask for a passage home in the convoy to the summer fleet. They would take us.”
Stukeley smiled uneasily, knowing only too well how likely he was to get a passage home with that convoy in any case.
“Olive,” he said, “do you remember a tale Captain Cammock told us about a little ruined city full of gold?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“D’you know, Olive, I’ve been half planning with Cammock to go to look for that ruined city. You see, Livy, we shall only be here probably till the summer fleet arrives. Ten days, or so. Do you think you could stand it for another month or two? If we found that city, I could buy my little Olive that summer cottage we set our hearts on.”
“Oh, take me home, Tom. Never mind the cottage. And I couldn’t have you going into the forest. I couldn’t be alone in the ship.”
“But then, Olive. Since I married my little Olive here, I’ve been wanting to do something for others. Living as a bachelor, one gets selfish. I want very much to help those Indians, Olive. To do something in return for you, dear.”
“I know, dear. It’s so like you. It’s noble of you. But you could do something for the people at home: for the poor. You could teach them. We could teach them together. But oh, don’t let’s go to Darien, Tom. We shall be separated. Tom, I couldn’t bear to be alone in the ship. And there may be fighting.”
“Come, come, Livy,” said Stukeley. He was nettled at what he judged to be her damned female pigheadedness, yet anxious to make his indignation appear moral. That is the common custom of the wicked, to the world’s misfortune. “Come, come,” he said, “you mustn’t talk in that way. We’re going to liberate the Indians. Eh? To show them what British Freedom means. Eh? We mustn’t think of ourselves, and our little aches and pains. We must think of the world.” He himself was ever ready to think of the world, or the flesh, or the devil, or all three. “We must think of the world, Livy. And if we should succeed. I think you would be proud of me, Livy.”