“Just you mention them words to your squire, Jim,” he went on. “Nor he weren’t neither⁠—that’s the words. Three years he were the man of this island, light and dark, fair and rain; and sometimes he would, may be, think upon a prayer (says you), and sometimes he would, may be, think of his old mother, so be as she’s alive (you’ll say); but the most part of Gunn’s time (this is what you’ll say)⁠—the most part of his time was took up with another matter. And then you’ll give him a nip, like I do.”

And he pinched me again, in the most confidential manner.

“Then,” he continued, “then you’ll up, and you’ll say this: Gunn is a good man (you’ll say), and he puts a precious sight more confidence⁠—a precious sight, mind that⁠—in a gen’leman born than in these gen’lemen of fortune, having been one hisself.”

“Well,” I said, “I don’t understand one word that you’ve been saying. But that’s neither here nor there; for how am I to get on board?”