"Gold--which you have had, in all its gorgeous and glowing abundance."
"'Two'n't do," retorted the other, in a painfully subdued tone; "there
is much it cannot purchase. Am I not at this moment a banned and a
blighted man--scouted alike from the board of the profligate Cavalier,
and the psalm-singing Puritan of this most change-loving country? And
one day or another I may be hung up at the yard-arm of a
Commonwealth--Heaven bless the mark!--a Commonwealth cruiser!--or scare
crows from a gibbet off Sheerness or Queenborough, or be made an example
of for some act of piracy committed on the high seas!"
"But why commit such acts? You have wherewithal to live
respectably--quietly."
"Quietly!" repeated the Skipper; "look ye, Master--I crave your
pardon--Sir Robert Cecil; as soon could one of Mother Carey's chickens
mount a hen-roost, or bring up a brood of lubberly turkies, as I, Hugh
Dalton, master and owner of the good brigantine, that sits the waters
like a swan, and cuts them like an arrow--live quietly, quietly, on
shore! Santa Maria! have I not panted under the hot sun off the
Caribbees? Have I not closed my ears to the cry of mercy? Have I not
sacked, and sunk, and burnt without acknowledging claim or country? Has
not the mother clasped her child more closely to her bosom at the
mention of my name? In one word, for years have I not been a BUCCANEER?
And yet you talk to me of quietness!--Sir, sir, the soul so steeped in
sin has but two resources--madness, or the grave; the last even I shrink
from; so give me war, war, and its insanity."
"Cannot you learn to fear the Lord, and trade as an honest man?"
Dalton cast a look of such mingled scorn and contempt on his companion,
that a deep red colour mounted to his cheek as he repeated, "Yes! I ask,
cannot you trade as an honest man?"
"No! a curse on trade: and I'm not honest," he replied fiercely.
"May I beg you briefly to explain the object of your visit?" said the
Baronet at last, after a perplexing pause, during which the arms of the
Buccaneer were folded on his breast, and his restless and vigilant eyes
wandered round the apartment, flashing with an indefinable expression,
when they encountered the blue retreating orbs of Sir Robert.
"This, then: I require a free pardon from Old Noll, not not only for
myself, but for my crew. The brave men, who would have died, shall live,
with me. As a return for his Highness's civility, I will give up all
free trade, and take the command of a frigate, if it so please him."