"Well, you ought to be a good judge," cried another, laughing, "for you've never kept any company but the worst all your life!"
"Ralph Rover!" shouted a voice down the hatchway. "Captain wants you, aft."
Springing up the ladder I hastened to the cabin, pondering as I went the strange testimony borne by these men to the effect of the gospel on savage natures;—testimony which, as it was perfectly disinterested, I had no doubt whatever was strictly true.
On coming again on deck I found Bloody Bill at the helm, and as we were alone together I tried to draw him into conversation. After repeating to him the conversation in the forecastle about the missionaries, I said,—
"Tell me, Bill, is this schooner really a trader in sandal-wood?"
"Yes, Ralph, she is; but she's just as really a pirate. The black flag you saw flying at the peak was no deception."
"Then how can you say she's a trader?" asked I.
"Why, as to that, she trades when she can't take by force, but she takes by force, when she can, in preference. Ralph," he added, lowering his voice, "if you had seen the bloody deeds that I have witnessed done on these decks you would not need to ask if we were pirates. But you'll find it out soon enough. As for the missionaries, the captain favors them because they are useful to him. The South Sea islanders are such incarnate fiends that they are the better of being tamed, and the missionaries are the only men who can do it."
Our track after this lay through several clusters of small islets, among which we were becalmed more than
