“Ay, ay, shipmates,” said Jim Splice, in answer to them, “you have come from a far country, hav’nt you? ha, ha! you thought you were done for, eh? when you saw our pikes, and our skull and bones; ha, ha! my hearties, you did’nt know us: and, when you came on board, you expected to be made to walk the plank, eh? We don’t look for men’s lives—what booty does that give? we look for something better; and if you, or that stupid skipper of yours was’nt foolish enough to fire upon us, why, we would have taken your money and your ship, to be sure, but those comrades of yours, that have now gone to their reckoning, would be here now, to take a glass of grog with old Jim Splice. But, by G—d, that was a reg’lar rattler that you gave the first boat—I never seed the like. It was foolish, though; what could your skipper gain by that?”
“Why,” replied one of the sailors, “you see we had but one gun to fire salutes with, and our skipper had it loaded with all kind of material, and pointed it himself. He thought, you see, you would have cut away after the first discharge, you see.”
“Then, by G—d,” replied Jim Splice, “he counted without his host, my hearty; no one has ever seen the stern of this here Black Schooner,” striking the deck on which he sat, with his hand, “as is commanded by that ere captain you spoke to this morning; and you may take my word for that, I know. That man that you saw this morning, I tell you, is the very devil, when his blood is up; he fights like a tiger—a reg’lar tiger.”
“But, who is that old lubber that looked so miserable this morning—him who was guarded?”
“We don’t know much of him,” answered one of the sailors, “but I have heard our captain say that he was a rich old codger. I know he sent on board as many hens and sheep as would keep us on fresh provisions all the voyage if it had’nt so happened as we were taken. But why was he guarded that way?”
“Hum—no one knows,” replied Splice, “I guess there is some misunderstanding between him and our captain; if so, God help him! for those who have misunderstandings with our fire-eater never get on well, I know; old Jim Splice would’nt be in that lubber’s ducks for the richest West Indiaman that ever carried sugar, I know.”
Here Jim Splice remained silent for a few moments, during which time he seemed to be wrapt in serious reflection.
“By G—d,” he continued, “I was saying, yes—yes—I saw him once—ay, our captain, punish a shipmate that had’nt obeyed orders, and I sha’nt forget that, I know. Those that sail well with our captain are treated like his children, but God help those who cross him in his tack, all young and quiet as you see him!”
Splice became again silent, and looked absorbed, as if his memory was returning to some bygone scene in his chequered life.