I was bewildered; it seemed a thing so hopeless he was asking⁠—he, the old buccaneer, the ringleader throughout.

“What I can do, that I’ll do,” I said.

“It’s a bargain!” cried Long John. “You speak up plucky, and by thunder, I’ve a chance.”

He hobbled to the torch, where it stood propped among the firewood, and took a fresh light to his pipe.

“Understand me, Jim,” he said, returning. “I’ve a head on my shoulders, I have. I’m on squire’s side now. I know you’ve got that ship safe somewheres. How you done it I don’t know, but safe it is. I guess Hands and O’Brien turned soft. I never much believed in neither of them . Now you mark me. I ask no questions, nor I won’t let others. I know when a game’s up, I do; and I know a lad that’s stanch. Ah, you that’s young⁠—you and me might have done a power of good together!”

He drew some cognac from the cask into a tin cannikin.