“Well. It’s like this,” said the captain. “Your trading lay--I’m speaking as a sailor, you understand--is all Barney’s bull. It’s got more bugs than brains, as you might say. But you don’t want to go trading. What d’yer want to go trading for? You’d only get et by sand-flies, even if you did make a profit. What you want to do. You got a big ship. You’d easy get hands enough. Well, what I say is, why not go for one of the towns? Morgan done it. Sharp done it. Old John Coxon done it, for I was with him. And the French and Dutch done it, too; don’t I know it. If you come on ’em with a sort of a hawky pounce you get ’em every time. Profit, too. There’s twenty or thirty pound a man in it. Besides ransoms. There’s no work in it, like in trading. If you’re trading, you got to watch your stores, you got to watch the Indians, you got to kowtow to the chiefs. Pah. It’s a poor job, trade is. It’s not a seaman’s job. But you come down on the towns. Why. Half your life. I wish I’d been wise when I was a young man. That’s what I ought to a done, ’stead of logwood cutting.” “What towns would you advise?” said Captain Margaret, smiling. “Well. Here’s a map.” Cammock opened his book to show a map of the Terra Firme from La Vera Cruz to Trinidad. “It’s rough,” he explained. “But it’ll just show you. All them red dots is towns. And what I say is, take them. That’s the only way you’ll help the Indians, as you call it. Help them? You won’t help them much when you get among them, I’ll tell you that much. The Main alters people.” “Oh,” said Margaret quietly. “So that’s what you think. Why do you think that? What reason can you give?” “Well, take it on military grounds, sir,” said Cammock. “You’ll have to admit it on military grounds.” Stukeley pretended to choke with laughter; it was an offensive act. “Stukeley’s turning sick again,” said Perrin dryly. “Well. On military grounds then,” said Margaret. “I want to hear your reason.” “Look, sir. Look at my two fists. This right fist, here, is Carta-Yaina. This left fist is Portobel or La Vera Cruz. Now these here counters. You’ll excuse my taking your counters, Mrs. Stukeley. These here counters are the Samballoes islands in between. Now. On military grounds. Suppose I knock my fists together. The counters get a nasty jounce.” “I see,” said Margaret. “We should be the nut between two crackers.”