Now, the most goes for rum and a good fling, and to sea again in their shirts. But that’s not the course I lay. I puts it all away, some here, some there, and none too much anywheres, by reason of suspicion. I’m fifty, mark you; once back from this cruise, I set up gentleman in earnest. Time enough too, says you. Ah, but I’ve lived easy in the meantime, never denied myself o’ nothing heart desires, and slep’ soft and ate dainty all my days but when at sea. And how did I begin? Before the mast, like you!” “Well,” said the other, “but all the other money’s gone now, ain’t it? You daren’t show face in Bristol after this.” “Why, where might you suppose it was?” asked Silver derisively. “At Bristol, in banks and places,” answered his companion. “It were,” said the cook; “it were when we weighed anchor. But my old missis has it all by now. And the Spy-glass is sold, lease and goodwill and rigging; and the old girl’s off to meet me. I would tell you where, for I trust you, but it’d make jealousy among the mates.” “And can you trust your missis?” asked the other. “Gentlemen of fortune,” returned the cook, “usually trusts little among themselves, and right they are, you may lay to it. But I have a way with me, I have.