"You are an observant man, it seems," says I, frowning.
"I have a way o' putting one and one together--'tis a trick I've found useful now and then!"
"Ha!" says I, mighty scornful, "You'll be telling me my own name next!"
"Why, as to that," says he, pinching his long, clean-shaven chin thoughtfully, "how would Conisby suit?"
"Damned spy!" I cried, and caught him in my grip; the fellow never so much as flinched, and there was something formidable in his very quietude.
"Easy all, shipmate!" says he mildly and staring up at me eye to eye. "Use me kindly, for I'm a timid soul with a good heart, meaning no offence."
"How learned ye my name? What devilry is here?"
"None in the world, Lord love ye! 'Tis just my trick of adding one and one, d'ye see? There's the ring on your finger and the signboard above you."
"And wherefore spy on a sleeping man?"
"Because I'm a lonely soul doth seek a comrade. Because the moment I clapped eyes on you I felt drawn to ye, and seeing the scars on your wrist, knew 'em for shackle-marks--and 'twas a bond betwixt us."
"How a bond?"
"Loose me, shipmate, and I'll show ye." Which done, he bared a long and sinewy arm, discovering thereon marks of old fetter-sores like those upon my own.
"So you've slaved at an oar, then?" says I.
"Aye, shipmate!"
"Endured the shame of stripes and nakedness and filth?"
"Aye, shipmate. And more, I've fought for my life on the Inca Death-stone ere now, as you may see by my ears if you know aught of the Maya Indians."
And here without so much as a "by your leave" he sat him down on the bench beside me, and leaning forward began to trace idle patterns in the dust with his stick.
"Shipmate," says he, "I'm a timid man--"
"As a snake," quoth I, "and as deadly!"
Here he stayed his drawing to glance at me askance, to sigh and shake his head. "You misjudge me," says he, "howbeit we'll say cautious--a cautious man with an honest, kindly heart as yearns to fellowship."
"And with a pistol 'neath each armpit!"
"True!" he nodded. "I might ha' shot ye a moment since and didn't--which doth but prove my words, for I'm one as never harmed any man--without just cause--save once, and that--" here he sighed, "was years agone. And me a lonely man to this day. So 'tis I seek a comrade--a right man, one at odds wi' fortune and the world and therefore apt to desperate ploys, one hath suffered and endured and therefore scornful of harms and dangers, one as knoweth the sea. Now let that man pledge me the blood-brotherhood, let him stand staunch and faithful blow fair, blow foul, and I'll help him to a fortune greater than ever came out of Manoa, El Dorado, or the Indies. Come, what d'ye say, friend?"