The young fellow could not even count the doubloons in a bag.
"Go to!" cried the pirate, blacker and more fantastically horrible than ever, for his bare left shoulder was bound with a scarf of silk and his great arm was streaked and bedabbled with his blood, "you are the most cursed coward I have met with in all my days at sea.

So frightened out of your wits by a lively brush as that of yesterday! Too scared to count gold! Never saw I that before.

One might be too scared to pray, but to count gold! Ha! ha!" and the bold pirate laughed a merry roar.

He was in good spirits; he had captured and sunk an English man-of-war; sunk her with her English ensign floating above her.

How it would have overjoyed him if all the ships, little and big, that plied the Spanish Main could have seen him sink that man-of-war.