"There are no peaceful times among pirates," returned the hermit; "and
some of the traders in this archipelago are little better than pirates."

"Where I puts your bed, massa?" asked Moses, turning his huge eyes on
his master.

"There--under the bush, beside Nigel."

"An' where would _you_ like to sleep, Massa Spinkie?" added the negro,
with a low obeisance to the monkey, which sat on the top of what seemed
to be its favourite seat--a watercask.

Spinkie treated the question with calm contempt, turned his head
languidly to one side, and scratched himself.

"Unpurliteness is your k'racter from skin to marrow, you son of a
insolent mother!" said Moses, shaking his fist, whereat Spinkie,
promptly making an O of his mouth, looked fierce.

The sagacious creature remained where he was till after supper, which
consisted of another roast fowl--hot this time--and ship's-biscuit
washed down with coffee. Of course Spinkie's portion consisted only of
the biscuit with a few scraps of cocoa-nut. Having received it he
quietly retired to his native wilds, with the intention of sleeping
there, according to custom, till morning; but his repose was destined to
be broken, as we shall see.

After supper, the hermit, stretching himself on his blanket, filled an
enormous meerschaum, and began to smoke. The negro, rolling up a little