At last we had gotten so rich, for we traded in cloves and spices to the merchants, that William one day proposed to me that we should give up the kind of life we had been leading. We were then off the coast of Persia. "Most people," said William, "leave off trading when they are satisfied of getting, and are rich enough; for nobody trades for the sake of trading; much less do men rob for the sake of thieving. It is natural for men that are abroad to desire to come home again at last, especially when they are grown rich, and so rich as they would know not what to do with more if they had it." "Well, William," said I, "but you have not explained what you mean by home. Why, man, I am at home; here is my habitation; I never had any other in my lifetime; I was a kind of charity school-boy; so that I can have no desire of going anywhere for being rich or poor; for I have nowhere to go." "Why," says William, looking a little confused, "hast thou no relatives or friends in England? No acquaintance; none that thou hast any kindness or any remains of respect for?" "Not I, William," said I, "no more than I have in the court of the Great Mogul. Yet I do not say I like this roving, cruising life so well as never to give it over. Say anything to me, I will take it kindly." For I could see he was troubled, and I began to be moved by his gravity. "There is something to be thought of beyond this way of life," says William. "Why, what is that," said I, "except it be death?" "It is repentance." "Why," says I, "did you ever know a pirate repent?" At this he was startled a little, and returned. "At the gallows I have known one, and I hope thou wilt be the second." He spoke this very affectionately, with an appearance of concern for me. "My proposal," William went on, "is for thy good as well as my own. We may put an end to this kind of life, and repent." "Look you, William," says I, "let me have your proposal for putting an end to our present way of living first, and you and I will talk of the other afterwards." "Nay," says William, "thou art in the right there; we must never talk of repenting while we continue pirates." "Well," says I, "William, that's what I meant; for if we must not reform, as well as be sorry for what is done, I have no notion what repentance means: the nature of the thing seems to tell me that the first step we have to take is to break off this wretched course. Dost thou think it practicable for us to put an end to our unhappy way of living, and get off?" "Yes," says he, "I think it very practicable." We were then anchored off the city of Bassorah, and one night William and I went ashore, and sent a note to the boatswain telling him we were betrayed and bidding him make off with the ship.