“If you was sent by Long John,” he said, “I’m as good as pork, and I know it. But where was you, do you suppose?” I had made my mind up in a moment, and by way of answer told him the whole story of our voyage and the predicament in which we found ourselves. He heard me with the keenest interest, and when I had done he patted me on the head. “You’re a good lad, Jim,” he said; “and you’re all in a clove hitch, ain’t you? Well, you just put your trust in Ben Gunn—Ben Gunn’s the man to do it. Would you think it likely, now, that your squire would prove a liberal-minded one in case of help—him being in a clove hitch, as you remark?” I told him the squire was the most liberal of men. “Aye, but you see,” returned Ben Gunn, “I didn’t mean giving me a gate to keep, and a suit of livery clothes, and such; that’s not my mark, Jim. What I mean is, would he be likely to come down to the toon of, say one thousand pounds out of money that’s as good as a man’s own already?” “I am sure he would,” said I. “As it was, all hands were to share.” “And a passage home?” he added with a look of great shrewdness. “Why,” I cried, “the squire’s a gentleman.