"Bosh! You are talking to hear yourself talk, Long-Sword," said Jamison. "Your end is going to be enough to keep me straight, even if I want to go wrong. No Jolly Roger for mine, thank God! Sometimes, it pays almost as well to catch a pirate as to be one."
"It pays better in this case," said Brandon, laughing. "What is the reward for me?"
He saw his friend's fingers steal in to the skipper's breeches pocket—and come out empty.
"A thousand guineas!—oh, you are rated high in the profession—right at the top! I calculate, with my share of the prize money and the reward, to settle down in Annapolis, and cruise no more." (Parkington crossed the cabin, idly, to the other side, then stopped close by Jamison.) "Of course, I'll have my barge, and a couple of blacks to row it, and a small schooner to sail the Bay, just to keep my hand and voice in. Oh! it's lucky for me, that I came up the Patuxent this morning, and didn't delay along the Coast until noon!" (The skipper was standing with his thumbs under his armpits, his chest thrown out, his head in the air—his pockets invitingly open.)
"Honesty gains its own reward," said Parkington, slyly slipping in his hand. "Captain Jamison will be an honored citizen of Annapolis, while you, Long-Sword, will be nothing but a bloody memory." (The hand came out, and the key was in it.) "'Tis small profit at the best this being a pirate, and cannot be for long. When the end comes, there is naught remains but to die bravely."
Brandon heaved a sigh of resignation. "I will die game, never fear," he said.
"Oh, it is entirely your concern, how you die!" laughed Parkington. "If you leave it to the mob, the more you cringe and pray the more they will yell."
He took out his snuff box, and extended it to him.
"Yes, thank you!" said Brandon. "You are very kind, indeed."
Parkington crossed to the bunk, thereby throwing himself between the skipper and the prisoner, and with his back to the former. When he stepped aside, the key was in the other's possession.