"George the Third," said I; "God bless him!" "So--George and Louis--Louis and George. I see how it is. Stick to your dates, sir. But, my friend, never set up as a schoolmaster." This sally seemed to delight him, and he burst into a loud laugh. "Eighteen hundred and one!" he cried. "A man I knew once lost ten thousand livres at a _coup_. What do you think happened? They settled in him here;" he patted his belly: "he went about bragging to everybody that he was made of money, and was nicknamed the walking bourse. One day he asked a friend to dine with him; when the bill was presented he felt in his pockets, and exclaimed, 'I left my purse at home. No matter; there is plenty here;' with which he seized a table-knife and ripped himself open. Eighteen hundred and one, d'ye call it? _Soit._ But let it be _your_ secret, my friend. The world will not love you for making it fifty years older than it is." It was ridiculous to attempt to combat such obstinacy as this, and as the subject produced nothing but excitement and irritation, I dropped it and meddled with it no more, leaving him to his conviction that I was cracked in this one particular. In fact, it was a matter of no consequence at all; what came very much closer home was the business of our deliverance, and over this we talked long and very earnestly, for he forgot to be mean and fierce and boastful, and I to dislike and fear him, when we spoke of getting away with our treasure, and returning to our native home. For hour after hour would we go on plotting and planning and scheming, stepping about the cook-house in our earnestness, and entirely engrossed with the topic. His contention was that if we were to save the money and plate, we must save the schooner. "Unless we build a vessel," said I. "Out of what?" "Out of this schooner." "Are you a carpenter?" said he. "No," I replied. "Neither am I," said he. "It's possible we might contrive such a structure as would enable us to save our lives; but we have not the skill to produce a vessel big enough to contain those chests as well as ourselves, and the stores we should require to take. Besides, do you know there is no labour more fatiguing than knocking such a craft as this to pieces?" This I very well believed, and it was truer of such a vessel as the _Boca del Dragon_ that was a perfect bed of timber, and, like the _Laughing Mary_, built as if she was to keep the seas for three hundred years. "And supposing," said he, "after infinite toil we succeeded in breaking up as much of her as we wanted, what appliances have we for reshaping the curved timbers? and where are we to lay the keel? Labour as we might, the cold would prove too much for us. No, Mr. Rodney, to save the treasure, ay, and to save ourselves, we must save the ship. Let us put our minds to that."