"Thought on!" says I; "what signifies thinking of it? To think of death is to die, and to be always thinking of it is to be all one's life long a-dying. It is time enough to think of it when it comes." You will easily believe I was well qualified for a pirate that could talk thus. But let me leave it upon record, for the remark of other hardened rogues like myself,--my conscience gave me a pang that I never felt before when I said, "What signifies thinking of it?" and told me I should one day think of these words with a sad heart; but the time of my reflection was not yet come; so I went on. Says William very seriously, "I must tell thee, friend, I am sorry to hear thee talk so. They that never think of dying, often die without thinking of it." I carried on the jesting way a while farther, and said, "Prithee, do not talk of dying; how do we know we shall ever die?" and began to laugh. "I need not answer thee to that," says William; "it is not my place to reprove thee, who art commander over me here; but I would rather thou wouldst talk otherwise of death; it is a coarse thing." "Say anything to me, William," said I; "I will take it kindly." I began now to be very much moved at his discourse. Says William (tears running down his face), "It is because men live as if they were never to die, that so many die before they know how to live. But it was not death that I meant when I said that there was something to be thought of beyond this way of living." "Why, William," said I, "what was that?" "It was repentance," says he. "Why," says I, "did you ever know a pirate repent?" At this he startled a little, and returned, "At the gallows I have [known] one before, and I hope thou wilt be the second." He spoke this very affectionately, with an appearance of concern for me. "Well, William," says I, "I thank you; and I am not so senseless of these things, perhaps, as I make myself seem to be. But come, let me hear your proposal." "My proposal," says William, "is for thy good as well as my own. We may put an end to this kind of life, and repent; and I think the fairest occasion offers for both, at this very time, that ever did, or ever will, or, indeed, can happen again." "Look you, William," says I; "let me have your proposal for putting an end to our present way of living first, for that is the case before us, and you and I will talk of the other afterwards. I am not so insensible," said I, "as you may think me to be. But let us get out of this hellish condition we are in first." "Nay," says William, "thou art in the right there; we must never talk of repenting while we continue pirates."