I never laid finger on a
bodle's worth of English stuff, and if now and then I ease the Dons of
a pickle silver or send a Frenchman or two to purgatory, what worse am
I doing than His Majesty's troops in Flanders, or your black frigates
that lie off Port Royal? If I've a clear conscience I can more easily
take order with those that are less single-minded. But maybe the chief
reason is that I've some little skill of arms, so that the lad that
questions me is apt to fare like Cosh."
There was a kind of boastful sincerity about the man which convinced
me. But his words put me in mind of my own business.
"I came seeking you to ask help. Your friends have been making too free
with my belongings. I would never complain if it were the common risk
of my trade, but I have a notion that there's some sort of design
behind it." Then I told him of my strife with the English merchants.
"What are your losses?" he asked.
"The Ayr brig was taken off Cape Charles, and burned to the water. God
help the poor souls in her, for I fear they perished."
He nodded. "I know. That was one of Cosh's exploits. He has paid by now
for that and other things."
"Two of my ships were chased through the Capes and far up the Tidewater
of the James not two months back," I went on.
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