'Tis him that'll put the fear of God in their rotten black hearts.

Look at that hunter iv mine, Horner.

'Jock' Horner they call him, so quiet-like an' easy-goin', soft-spoken as a girl, till ye'd think butter wouldn't melt in the mouth iv him.

Didn't he kill his boat-steerer last year?
'Twas called a sad accident, but I met the boat-puller in Yokohama an' the straight iv it was given me.

An' there's Smoke, the black little devil--didn't the Roosians have him for three years in the salt mines of Siberia, for poachin' on Copper Island, which is a Roosian preserve?
Shackled he was, hand an' foot, with his mate.