After the first momentary shock of finding they had laid a terrible burden on the shoulders of these guileless people had passed, the same jealous greed of gain which had prompted the eight men to seize the ship now prompted them all—even Siddall—to throw to the winds all their better feelings, discretion and honour, in order to take advantage of their innocent victims, so gently and so insidiously that the injury was unperceived until too late: to wrong these people who had been more sinned against than sinning; who had hitherto been wealthy in the possession of contentment and in a light-heartedness that shone in every feature, causing every movement to fill them to overflowing with the joy of life. It was but a repetition of the time-worn story of the devout and the profane parrots, and a confirmation of the experience that the good do not make the bad good, but are by them degraded, and one evil mind in a community is as the “dead flies” that “cause the ointment of the apothecary to send forth a stinking savour.” No longer the ‘laughing philosophers’ of yore, the inhabitants were weary, careworn and sad, filled with a deadly fear that ‘community’ would not bring them enough to eat, so in order to protect themselves and those who were near and dear to them, they became sly and thieving; and put goods and money away secretly, and dissembled, feeling they could not keep on ‘giving’; and all the time the drinking and gambling habits were growing fast, numbers finding their only joy on the occasions when the hot and flowing bowl drove away their cares, and the gaming-table diverted their attentions from sorrow. Then some desperate spirits condemned their visitors, and lips that before they came did naught but bless, cursed them, cursed those they had greeted with loving trust and friendship. But what if the poor, helpless, and injured one—whether injured through drink or anything else—turns round and curses the shrewd and clever business man, what effect has it? What does he care? As well might a gnat curse the elephant that tramples it! even if by a lucky chance it manages to insert a drop of poison and cause an instant’s pain, which is scarcely felt, it gets crushed to nothingness. No more do curses trouble a man of the world; something may perhaps sting him slightly, but the stinger is hopelessly broken and as certainly forgotten; the victor has gained all he desired and put his victim away at the same time. If he did care in the least he would, _ipso facto_, cease to be respected as a smart business man.