An hour or so later Captain Sam Prentice and some of his men were on the central wharf, shaking hands with old neighbors until their own were lame, and telling the story of the old whaling schooner among the West Indies.
"Samuel," remarked Rachel Tarns, "thy story promiseth to be a long one. Thee had better hold thy tongue a moment, and turn thy gray head to see what cometh behind thee."
"Sam! Sam! I'm here!"
"There!" said the old Quakeress, dryly. "It was on my mind that his wife could stop his talking. So she squeezeth him not to death, he may then hug his daughters."
"Glory to God!" shouted good Mrs. Ten Eyck. "My son is safe! Not one of our men has been killed."
"Anneke," suggested Rachel Tarns, "thee may also thank Him that they do not seem to have been led to the killing of other people."
"That isn't jest so," said Sam; "we saved a ship-load of Spaniards from some pirates, and we had to kill a good many of the pirates. We didn't really hurt anybody else."
"I trust thy God will forgive thee concerning those wicked men," said Rachel. "He slayeth the wicked in their wickedness. Thee did no wrong. I think it was a friendly and righteous thing for thee to do. I once had many that were dear to me murdered at sea by those devilish destroyers."
"No mercy for pirates!" shouted more voices than one.
"We didn't have to show any," said Sam. "I can't tell it, jest now."