In fact, I had a great desire to become what might be called a marine
Robin Hood. I would take from the rich and give to the poor; I would run
my long, low, black craft by the side of the merchantman, and when I had
loaded my vessel with the rich stuffs and golden ingots which composed
her cargo, I would sail away to some poor village, and make its
inhabitants prosperous and happy for the rest of their lives by a
judicious distribution of my booty.

I would always be as free as a sea-bird. My men would be devoted to me,
and my word would be their law. I would decide for myself whether this
or that proceeding would be proper, generous, and worthy of my unlimited
power; when tired of sailing, I would retire to my island,--the position
of which, in a beautiful semi-tropic ocean, would be known only to
myself and to my crew,--and there I would pass happy days in the company
of my books, my works of art, and all the various treasures I had taken
from the mercenary vessels which I had overhauled.

Such was my notion of a pirate's life. I would kill nobody; the very
sight of my black flag would be sufficient to put an end to all thought
of resistance on the part of my victims, who would no more think of
fighting me, than a fat bishop would have thought of lifting his hand
against Robin Hood and his merry men; and I truly believe that I
expected my conscience to have a great deal more to do in the way of
approval of my actions, than it had found necessary in the course of my
ordinary school-boy life.

I mention these early impressions because I have a notion that a great
many people--and not only young people--have an idea of piracy not
altogether different from that of my boyhood. They know that pirates