“He’s so amusing,” she answered.
Sauntering in this way, talking nonsense and trifling, they arrived at the boat-builder’s creek which then did duty for a dock. Their boat lay off at a little distance; the hands were lying on their oars. Captain Margaret hailed her; she put in. He handed Olivia into the sternsheets. Mrs. Inigo, well used to boats from her childhood, stepped into the bows. The stroke oar arranged the parcels and placed the leg of mutton behind the backboard. Captain Margaret turned to the shopman, and walked a few steps with him out of ear-shot of the boat. He glanced up the anchorage to see if any armed boat was putting off.
“Don’t wait, sir,” said the shopman. “Lord, sir, think of the risk. Why don’t you go, sir? It’s frightfully dangerous, sir.”
“You exaggerate the risk,” he answered calmly. “Well, you’ve done me a good turn. Why did you do me a good turn?”
“Oh sir, I’m sure.”
“I shall often think of you,” said Captain Margaret. “Are you sure you won’t come with me?”
“Oh no, sir. I couldn’t really be persuaded, sir.”
“Well, think of us.”
“I shall think of you always, sir. You are a real buccaneer, sir?”
“Oh yes. Real. In my ship yonder, there’s a man who knew Morgan.”