"England," said I.
He shrugged his shoulders and exclaimed in French, "'Tis natural." Then proceeding in English, "Pray," said he, showing his fangs, "do not you know that the Boca del Dragon is a pirate? Do you want to be hanged that you propose to carry her to a port to ship men?"
"I have no fear of that," said I; "after all these years she'll be as clean forgotten as if she had never had existence."
"Look ye here, Mr. Rodney," cried he in a passion, "let's have no more of this snivelling nonsense about years. You may be as mad as you please on that point, but it shan't hang me. It needs more than a few months to make men forget a craft that has carried on such traffic as our hold represents. You'll not find me venturing myself nor the schooner into any of your ports for men. No, no, my friend. I am in no stupor now, you know; and I've slept the punch off also, d'ye see. What, betray our treasure and be hanged for our generosity?"
He made me an ironical bow, grinning with wrath.
"Let's get the schooner afloat first," said I.
"Ay, that's all very well," he cried; "but better stop here than dangle in chains. No, my friend; our plan must be a very different one from your proposal. I suppose you want your share of the booty?" said he, snapping his fingers.
"I deserve it," said I, smiling, that I might soften his passion.
"And yet you would convey the most noted pirate of the age, with plunder in her to the value of thousands of doubloons, to a port in which we should doubtless find ships of war, a garrison, magistrates, governors, prisons, and the whole of the machinery it is our business to give our stern to! Ma foi, Mr. Rodney! sure you are out in something more than your reckoning of time?"
"What do you propose?" said I.