We both turned and saw a man about fifty years of age. He was below the medium height, and although hardy and agile, apparently possessed no physical strength above the average. He had a large head, well shaped, while his features were clearly cut and, I thought, pleasing. His face, too, was cleanly shaved, and he was dressed with some amount of care. The only thing that was strange about him was the curious colour of his eyes. They were light gray, so light that sometimes they looked white. He entered the inner cave as though he knew it well, and spoke very quietly. "What, Sam," he said, in a honeyed voice, "wud you 'ave done a thing like that? Strick un down in a moment wethout givin' ev'n a chance to say hes prayers and to make hes paice, so to spaik? No, Sam; that wud never do!" "He nearly killed me, cap'n," grunted Sam. "Iss, an' what ef a did? Remember the Scripters, an' turn the other cheek, so to spaik." By this time Bill Lurgy had got up, and, seeming to understand the situation, slunk to the entrance of the inner cave. "An' wad'n you to blaame, too?" he said, turning to me. "Never be rash, young man, an' remember that a soft answer turneth away wrath." I must confess that I was at a loss to understand this mild-spoken man, and had not Sam called him "Cap'n," I should have thought him one of those foolish people converted by the Methodists. "Are you Cap'n Jack Truscott?" I asked. "Well, and what if I be, sonny? Law, I bean't pertikler, ye knaw. Spoase some people do call me Cap'n Jack Truscott, or spoase others do call me Jack Fraddam, what do I care? I'm a man as es friends weth everybody, my deear--tha's what I be. An' you, you be Jasper Pennington, who've been robbed of yer rights, my deear." "How do you know?" "How do I knaw? Oa, I pick up things goin' about. I do--lots ov things. I knawed 'ee as soon as I zee'd 'ee tackle they two chaps. Why, 'twud 'a' gone to my 'art for Sam to 'ave knifed 'ee, my deear. You was born to live a good ould age, and die in bed at Pennington, in the best room, my deear, with yer cheldern and grancheldern cal around 'ee, ould an' well stricken in eres. Tha's your lot, Maaster Jasper. Besides, I'm a man of paice, I be: I love paice 'n' quietness; I like love an' brotherly 'fection, I do!" I looked at him again in amazement, for I had heard of deeds which Captain Jack Truscott had done that were terrible enough to make one's blood run cold. It was reported that he had a house in a gully which runs up from Kynance Cove, which was the meeting-place for the wildest outlaws of the county. Folks said, moreover, that he owned a vessel which hoisted a black flag.