“That is no defence.”
“Beside,” Willmington went on to say, “what right have you to constitute yourself my judge?”
“The right,” answered the captain, “of an injured man, who avenges the wrong done to himself, and also to one who was his nearest and dearest blood, and whose memory demands justice.”
“But, by the laws, a man cannot redress his own wrongs,” said Willmington.
“By what laws?” inquired the captain.
“By the laws of the land,” answered Willmington.
A sneer was to be traced on the rude lineaments of every pirate’s face, when this answer was given.
“Look up there, man,” said the captain, as he pointed to the black flag that was floating gracefully from the half lowered gaff, “while that flies there, there is no law on board this schooner save mine and great Nature’s. Look around you, on the right and on the left, you see those who know no other laws but these two, and who are ready to enforce them. Look still farther around, you see but a waste of water, with no tribunals at hand, in which complaints may be heard, or by which grievances may be redressed. Place no hope, therefore, on ‘the laws of the land.’ Have you any thing more pertinent to urge?”
“I have to request,” replied Willmington, still more embarrassed, “to be landed with your other captives, that is all.”