"Aye!" says I, nodding.
"Why then bear witness as I be a patient soul and marciful. Be witness as I held my fire so long as any marciful soul might by token that I knew what a broadside can do among crowded rowing-benches--having rowed aboard one o' they Spanish hells afore now--so I held my fire till yon devil's craft came nigh cutting me asunder--and marcy hath its limits. Timothy Spence o' the "Tiger", master, is me, homeward bound for the Port of London, and by this fight am short five good men. But you're a proper big 'un. Go for'ard to the bo'sun, you shall know him by reason that he lacketh his starboard yere. Ask him for clothes to cover thy nakedness, lad, and--Oho, there goeth yon devil's craft--!" Turning as he spoke I saw the sharp bows of the "Esmeralda" lift and lift, high and higher, and, with a long-drawn gurgling roar, the great galleass plunged down stern foremost, burying her shame and misery from the eyes of man for evermore.
Thus then I sailed with Master Timothy Spence aboard the "Tiger," a free man after five years of anguish.