They went on that way till it made my head ache, and before I knew
it I was arguing hard against the bos'n, the captain egging me on.

I sailed with that crew four years. They were smugglers. I'm free to
say I loved Clyde, and liked the crew. For, granting he was much of a
miser and maybe but a shrewd old man, to be corrupting folks with his
theories, though I'm not so sure about that, not knowing what he
really thought; yet, he was a bold man, and a kind man, and I never
saw one that was keener in judgment. You might say he had made that
crew to suit him, having picked out the material one by one, and they
were most of all like children of his bringing up. I judge he had a
theory about arguments, that so long as they talked up to him and
freed their opinions, there wouldn't be any secret trouble brewing
below, or maybe it was only his humour. It was surely a fact that
they were steady in business and a rare crew to his purpose, explain
it as one may. He taught me navigation, and treated me like a son,
and it's not for me to go back on him. I don't know why he took to me
that way, and different from the rest. He taught me his business and
how he did it. I was the only one who knew. He was absolute owner as
well as captain, and his own buyer and seller as well. He carried no
cargoes but his own, which he made up for the most part in New York
or Philadelphia, and would bill the _Hebe Maitland_ maybe to Rio
Janeiro. Then the _Hawk_ would maybe deliver the biggest part
off the coast of Venezuela in the night, and the _Hebe Maitland_
would, like as not, sail into Rio by-and-by and pay her duty on the
rest, and take a cargo to New York as properly as a lady going to
church.

There were a good many countries in South America to choose from. It
wasn't wise to visit the same one right along, though there was apt