Clearly the law of Virginia or of England would give me no redress.

I was an alien from the genteel world; why should I not get the benefit of my ungentility?
If my rivals went for their weapons into dark places, I could surely do likewise.

A line of Virgil came into my head, which seemed to me to contain very good counsel: "_Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo_", which means that if you cannot get Heaven on your side, you had better try for the Devil.
But how was I to get into touch with the Devil?
And then I remembered in a flash my meeting with the sea-captain on the Glasgow stairhead and his promise to help me, I had no notion who he was or how he could aid, but I had a vague memory of his power and briskness.

He had looked like the kind of lad who might conduct me into the wild world of the Free Companions.
I sought Mercer's tavern by the water-side, a melancholy place grown up with weeds, with a yard of dark trees at the back of it.

Old Mercer was an elder in the little wooden Presbyterian kirk, which I had taken to attending since my quarrels with the gentry.