As he told the story, Sailor, who seemed to understand every word, rubbed his head against his master’s hand.

“He went into the mangroves, just as he’d go after duck, but he’d hardly gone in, when there were two shots, and he came out limping, making for me.  But, by this, I was close up to the mangroves myself, and in another minute, I was inside; and there, just like that old black snake you remember, was Tobias—­his gun at his shoulder.  He had a pot at me, but, before he could try another, I knocked him down with my fist—­and—­Well, we’ve got him all right.  And now you can go after your treasure, as soon as you like.  I’ll take him over to Nassau, and you can fool around for the next month or so.  Of course we’ll need you at the trial, but that won’t come off for a couple of months.  Meanwhile, you can let me know where you are, in case I should need to get hold of you.”

“All right, old man,” I said, “but I wish you were coming along with me.”

“I’ve got all the treasure I want,” laughed Charlie.  “But don’t you want to come and interview our friend?  He might give you some pointers on your treasure hunt.”

“How does he take it?” I asked.

“Pretty cool.  He talked a little big at first, but now he sits with his head between his hands, and you can’t get a word out of him.  Something up his sleeve, I dare say.”

“I don’t think I’ll bother to see him, Charlie,” I said.  “I’m kind of sorry for him.”  Charlie looked at me.

“Sorry for him?”

“Yes!  In fact, I rather like him.”

“Like him?” Charlie bellowed; “the pock-marked swine!”

“I grant,” I said, smiling, and recalling Charlie’s own words of long ago, “that his face is against him.”

“Rather like him?  You must be crazy!  You certainly have the rummiest taste.”

“At least you’ll admit this much, Charlie,” I said; “he has courage—­and I respect courage even in a cockroach—­particularly, perhaps, in a cockroach ...”

“He’s a cockroach, all right,” said Charlie.

“Maybe,” I assented.  “I don’t pretend to love him, but—­”

“If you don’t mind,” interrupted Charlie, “we’ll let it go at ’but’—­“.  And he rose.  “The tide’s beginning to run out.  Send me word where you are, as soon as you get a chance; and good luck to you, old chap, and your doubloons and pieces of eight!”

Then we walked down to his row-boat, and soon he was aboard the sponger.  Her sails ran up, and they were off down stream—­poor Tobias, manacled, somewhere between decks.

“See you in Nassau!” I shouted.

“Right-O!” came back the voice of the straightest and simplest Englishman in the world.

BOOK III

    Across the scarce-awakened sea,
      With white sail flowing,
      And morning glowing,
    I come to thee—­I come to thee.

    Past lonely beaches,
    And gleaming reaches,
    And long reefs foaming,
    Homing—­homing—­
    A-done with roaming,
      I come to thee.