"You must be awful rich, Black Bart," said L'Olonnois to me as we sat
on the grass, at breakfast, the following morning.
"No, Jimmy," I replied, putting down my coffee cup, "on the contrary,
I am very poor."
"But you have all sorts of things, back there where you live; and last
night you said you would pay that man a hundred dollars, just to open
a lot of clam shells. Now, a hundred dollars is a awful sight of
money."
"That depends, Jimmy," I said.
"'N' we'd ought to take them pearls," broke in Lafitte. "Didn't we
lick him?"
"We did, yes; twice." And in my assent I felt, again, a fierce
satisfaction in the first conquest of our invader, that of body to
body, eye to eye; rather than in the one where I brought intellect to
aid in war. "But there are two ways of being a pirate. Let us see if
we can not win treasure by taking a chance in logic, and so be modern
pirates."
They did not understand me, and went mute, but at last Jimmy resumed
his catechism. "Who owns the place where you live, Black Bart?"
"I do."
"But how much?"
"Some five or six miles."
"Gee! That must be over a hundred acres. I didn't know anybody owned
that much land. Where'd you get it?"
"In part from my father."
"What business was he in?"
"He was a pirate, Jimmy, or at least, they said he was. But my mother
was not.--I will tell you," I added suddenly: "my father owned a great
deal of timber land long ago, and iron, and oil, and copper, when
nobody cared much for them. They say, now, he stole some of them, I
don't know. In those days people weren't so particular. The more he
got, the more he wanted. He never was a boy like you and me. He
educated me as a lawyer, so that I could take care of his business and
his property, and he trained me in the pirate business the best he
could, and I made money too, all I wanted. You see, my father could
never get enough, but I did; perhaps, because my mother wasn't a
pirate, you see. So, when I got enough, my father and mother both died,
and when I began to see that, maybe, my father had taken a little more
than our share, I began trying to do something for people ... but I
can't talk about that, of course."
"Well, why not?" demanded Lafitte. "Go on."
"A fellow doesn't like to."
"But what did you do?"
"Very little. I found I could not do very much. I gave some buildings
to schools, that sort of thing. No one thanked me much. A good many
called me a Socialist."