‘Well,’ says Captain Jem, ‘I can’t say that we are not in want of one. But whereabouts may we be? Is there land nigh; and what do you call these rocks and sands?’ ‘There is no land that I know of nigher than New Providence,’ answered the dwarf, ‘and it lies a good hundred leagues to the westward and southward; and as for these rocks and sands, I cannot tell you their name, because they have got none.’ ‘Then what ships come hither that you act as pilot for?’ asked I. ‘None at all,’ replied the little man, very briskly. ‘There is nothing to take ships hither, unless it be a few turtle, and these they can get in far less dangerous places.’ At this we all stared at each other, and the men murmured that the dwarf was mad; and Bristol Tom whispered that mayhap the creature had been marooned—that is, deserted—upon these rocks, and that he had lost his reason. After a short pause, however, the dwarf-pilot resumed his discourse. ‘There never was a ship,’ quoth he, ‘which came to these shoals but stayed there. There be plenty of room for a navy to lie on these sands and reefs, and then the first gale of wind that comes, smashes them faster than e’er a ship-breaker in Limehouse.’ Captain Jem now began to lose patience, so he cried very wrathfully. ‘If you talk more riddles to us, little man, God smite me! but I will run you up to the yard-arm by the breech of your galligaskins, and so dip you into the brine, as men serve a mangy monkey!’ ‘Nay,’ answered the dwarf, ‘I came on board to help you out of a scrape. You are discourteous, so get you to sea as you best can.’ ‘Well, well!’ replied Captain Jem, ‘I was in the wrong; but tell us frankly, man, what you are, and how you come to live amongst these accursed shoals?’ ‘What I will do for you is this,’ quoth the dwarf—‘and I will do neither more nor less; I will pilot your ship out to sea, and I will ask nothing for it, but that you make me rid of you without loss of time.’ ‘Why,’ quoth I, ‘you must be very fond of solitude to propose anything of the sort; and if you obstinately refuse to tell us what you are, or what you do here, how can we trust the ship and all our lives to your management?’ ‘You will have me on board,’ said the dwarf, ‘and I give you free leave to hang me up by the neck, not by the breech, if I as much as scrape a barnacle from the bottom of the schooner. This proposition certainly looked reasonable. ‘What will you do, when we get to sea?’ asked Bristol Tom. ‘What is that to you, old man?’ quoth the dwarf; ‘go your ways, and leave me to go mine. I warrant I should have had more wit than to come blundering in here against my will.’ ‘So you landed here on purpose?’ says I. ‘Whether I did or no,’ says the dwarf, ‘is nothing to you. Do you want a pilot, or do you not?’