of the sex, signor.  Her father found her an excellent marriage in the person of a withered old picture-dealer.  She took the spouse, and very properly clapped the door in the face of the lover.  I was not disheartened, Excellency; no, not I. Women are plentiful while we are young.  So, without a ducat in my pocket or a crust for my teeth, I set out to seek my fortune on board of a Spanish merchantman.  That was duller work than I expected; but luckily we were attacked by a pirate,—­half the crew were butchered, the rest captured.  I was one of the last:  always in luck, you see, signor,—­monks’ sons have a knack that way!  The captain of the pirates took a fancy to me.  ‘Serve with us?’ said he.  ‘Too happy,’ said I. Behold me, then, a pirate!  O jolly life! how I blessed the old notary for turning me out of doors!  What feasting, what fighting, what wooing, what quarrelling!  Sometimes we ran ashore and enjoyed ourselves like princes; sometimes we lay in a calm for days together on the loveliest sea that man ever traversed.  And then, if the breeze rose and a sail came in sight, who so merry as we?  I passed three years in that charming profession, and then, signor, I grew ambitious.  I caballed against the captain; I wanted his post.  One still night we struck the blow.  The ship was like a log in the sea, no land to be seen from the mast-head, the waves like glass, and the moon at its full.  Up we rose, thirty of us and more.  Up we rose with a shout; we poured into the captain’s cabin, I at the head.  The brave old boy had caught the alarm, and there he stood at the doorway, a pistol in each hand; and his one eye (he had only one) worse to meet than the pistols were.

“‘Yield!’ cried I; ‘your life shall be safe.’

“‘Take that,’ said he, and whiz went the pistol; but the saints took care of their own, and the ball passed by my cheek, and shot the boatswain behind me.  I closed with the captain, and the other pistol went off without mischief in the struggle.  Such a fellow he was,—­six feet four without his shoes!  Over we went, rolling each on the other.  Santa Maria! no time to get hold of one’s knife.  Meanwhile all the crew were up, some for the captain, some for me,—­clashing and firing, and swearing and groaning, and now and then a heavy splash in the sea.  Fine supper for the sharks that night!  At last old Bilboa got uppermost; out flashed his knife; down it came, but not in my heart.  No!  I gave my left arm as a shield; and the blade went through to the hilt, with the blood spurting up like the rain from a whale’s nostril!  With the weight of the blow the stout fellow came down so that his face touched mine; with my right hand I caught him by the throat, turned him over like a lamb, signor, and faith it was soon all up with him:  the boatswain’s brother, a fat Dutchman, ran him through with a pike.