“Ah. And what’s the third kind?” “I don’t mind telling you. I was cruising one time. I was with an English crew, too. And four of our men went ashore there, near Cape Codera. They didn’t come back, so we went to look for them. We found ashes, where a fire’d been. And we found hands, lying in the ashes.” “Hands?” said Perrin. “With fingers on them, some of them,” said the pirate calmly. “Some of them was ate all off. And there was a skull lying. And bits of one man tied to a tree. I’ve never liked Indians from that day, not what you might call love them.” “So that’s the third kind,” said Captain Margaret. “I take it that these two last kinds don’t suffer much from the Spaniards?” “Not unless sometimes they get a tough one,” said the pirate, “they don’t.” “And the other kind, the first kind?” “They’re melancholy ducks. No use at all,” said Cammock. “Of course they suffer. It’s a wonder to me they don’t get it worse. They’d ought to. If it rained soup they’d be going out with forks. They ain’t got the sense we have, or something. ‘O Sieur,’ they say. The French taught ’em that. ‘O Sieur.’ ‘Come and kick us,’ that’s what it really amounts to.” He looked at Olivia, half fearing that she would be shocked. “Could they do anything, under a capable man, do you think?” said Perrin. “We’d one with us in the _Trinity_,” said Cammock. “William his name was. Yes, William, after my poor brother. Captain Sharp was capable, all right, in his limits; William was capable too, I guess; I don’t remember him gettin’ it. Yes. I think they’d do. Ah, but they ain’t got the sense. No, I don’t know as they’d ever do very much.” “Was your brother with you in town?” asked Captain Margaret. “Why isn’t he here with you?” “Who? Bill? No, sir. He died. Off of La Serena. Rum did _him_. He’d no sense to drink rum the way he drank it. I was sorry to lose Bill. I’d my fair share of trouble that passage.” “Have some more drink, your glass is empty,” said Perrin. “It’s thirsty work talking, as the parson said,” answered the pirate, holding out his glass. He looked at Perrin not unfavourably. Perrin mixed him another punch, and brought out a clean clay pipe from a little locker to the left of the fireplace. “You’re a thoughtful young fellow to me,” said Captain Cammock, regarding him with favour. His thought was, “You’d make a steward, perhaps, boiled down a bit”; but this he kept to himself. “Was you ever at sea before, sir?” he asked politely. “Only across the Channel,” said Perrin. “Well, it’s a hard life,” said the pirate. “Salue. Salue.” He jerked his head towards his hosts, and gulped the liquor. “It’s a hard life. Ah. You don’t know how hard it is, sitting here by the fire.” He looked moodily into the little bogey stove, which had been lighted to air the cabin. “What made you take to it, Captain Cammock?” said Perrin. “Just a girl,” said the captain. “I thought I’d make money that way, so’s we could marry.”