He would like to twist their necks. As for the colonials, the Virginian women didn’t please him. The garrison ladies were like all the garrison ladies known to him, silly little empty fools, without enough imagination to be vicious. They could just chatter, play cards, kiss their beastly lap-dogs, and wear their English clothes to church, so as to show off before the colonials. The colonial girls were not like women at all. They were like young horses, like young men. They would dance and romp, like colts in a hay-lot. But their idea of an evening’s amusement was to roll a man in a corn-crib, and smother him with pillows or flour. The colonial men bored him; he had always thought ill of farmers. Their talk was all of the tobacco crop, the duty, the burning of half the leaf, and the destruction of those plantations which were too productive. They had no wines. Their only drinks were rum and new cider. They did not play cards. Their chief amusement seemed to be riding to prayer-meetings. They would often ride forty miles to a prayer-meeting in the woods. He rather liked them for that. He would have ridden a hundred miles to avoid a Church service there, under a Virginian parson. “They pay their parsons in tobacco,” he said to himself. “They get the very sweepings of the Church. What souls they must have, when you can save five thousand of them for forty pounds a year.” Thus his thoughts ran inside his skull, under his curly black hair, behind that red face so long the adoration of shop-girls. But after dinner, in the little room known as the after-hospital, when, stretched at ease in the bunk, he could see Cammock sitting upright in the chair, through the wavering tobacco-smoke, his thoughts ran upon other matters. He thought of the coming cruise to Darien. “Good tobacco, captain?” “Yes, sir. But it’s not Verinas. It’s too strong. Too red. This is some of that Mexican tobacco. It leaves that tang, like a metal. That’s how you can tell, sir. Just puff out, sir, and roll your tongue round. You taste what I mean?” “Yes. But I bought it as Verinas. I paid four shillings the Spanish pound.” “That gang of Davis’s saw you coming, sir.” “Really? Well. It’s my turn to laugh next. You tell them that, captain.” “They’re no friends of mine, sir,” said Cammock simply. “Aren’t they? I thought they were particular friends of yours. You sailed with them?” “I’ve sailed with a good many as I’m no friends with.” “Really.” “I say nothing against them,” said Cammock. “They’re very good seamen. Doing good as planters, too, sir. They’ve quite a lot of ground burnt off. I dare say you’ve seen it.” “Yes. But I thought from what they said that they were particular friends of yours. Eh?” “Indeed, sir. When did you see them?” “I saw them yesterday, Captain Cammock.” “Indeed, sir.”