“Do you think so? A Scotch bonnet, though, ought to look well on a Scotchman. I’m such by birth. Is the gold band too much?” “I like the gold band, Captain. It looks something as I should think a crown might on a king.” “Aye?” “You would make a better-looking king than George III.” “Did you ever see that old granny? Waddles about in farthingales, and carries a peacock fan, don’t he? Did you ever see him?” “Was as close to him as I am to you now, Captain. In Kew Gardens it was, where I worked gravelling the walks. I was all alone with him, talking for some ten minutes.” “By Jove, what a chance! Had I but been there! What an opportunity for kidnapping a British king, and carrying him off in a fast sailing smack to Boston, a hostage for American freedom. But what did you? Didn’t you try to do something to him?” “I had a wicked thought or two, Captain, but I got the better of it. Besides, the king behaved handsomely towards me; yes, like a true man. God bless him for it. But it was before that, that I got the better of the wicked thought.” “Ah, meant to stick him, I suppose. Glad you didn’t. It would have been very shabby. Never kill a king, but make him captive. He looks better as a led horse, than a dead carcass. I propose now, this trip, falling on the grounds of the Earl of Selkirk, a privy counsellor and particular private friend of George III. But I won’t hurt a hair of his head. When I get him on board here, he shall lodge in my best state-room, which I mean to hang with damask for him. I shall drink wine with him, and be very friendly; take him to America, and introduce his lordship into the best circles there; only I shall have him accompanied on his calls by a sentry or two disguised as valets. For the Earl’s to be on sale, mind; so much ransom; that is, the nobleman, Lord Selkirk, shall have a bodily price pinned on his coat-tail, like any slave up at auction in Charleston. But, my lad with the yellow mane, you very strangely draw out my secrets. And yet you don’t talk. Your honesty is a magnet which attracts my sincerity. But I rely on your fidelity.” “I shall be a vice to your plans, Captain Paul. I will receive, but I won’t let go, unless you alone loose the screw.” “Well said. To bed now; you ought to. I go on deck. Good night, ace-of-hearts.” “That is fitter for yourself, Captain Paul, lonely leader of the suit.” “Lonely? Aye, but number one cannot but be lonely, my trump.” “Again I give it back. Ace-of-trumps may it prove to you, Captain Paul; may it be impossible for you ever to be taken. But for me—poor deuce, a trey, that comes in your wake—any king or knave may take me, as before now the knaves have.” “Tut, tut, lad; never be more cheery for another than for yourself. But a fagged body fags the soul. To hammock, to hammock! while I go on deck to clap on more sail to your cradle.” And they separated for that night. CHAPTER XV. THEY SAIL AS FAR AS THE CRAG OF AILSA.