“Yes, my lord,” pursued Willmington, “and I trust my lord, when you land, you will condescend to remember your former guest.”
“I thank you, sir,” replied the commander, as dryly, as before.
“Good morning, my lord.”
“A very good morning, sir.”
The boat, soon bore Willmington away from the ship.
“If the world possessed many more like that man,” said the commander to his son, while he pointed to Willmington, who was now on his little voyage toward the shore, “it would indeed be worse than a den of thieves.”
“I am afraid there are many more of this sort, sir, than you imagine,” replied Charles, “and that the world is not even as good as a den of thieves, for they say, those individuals recognize a certain code of honor.”
“Things were not so in my time,” replied the commander; “when I was young, Charles, we feared God, honored the king, and dealt justly and honorably by all men.”
“The times, then, are changed, sir,” said Charles, “and the greatest misfortune is, that such characters as that Willmington, unluckily for humanity, make as many Appadoccas.”
“True,” observed the commander, “it is a misfortune. I always thought I perceived much to be admired in that unfortunate Appadocca. I am rather glad, I must say, that he has drowned himself rather than permit himself to be dealt with by the executioner.”