"--Vliet was an old man--a regular hoary sinner, who kept his trade
secrets by a very simple method. He stocked his crews entirely with
lads of his own begetting. White, black, he didn't care how many
wives he carried to sea, or how much of a family wash he carried in
the shrouds on a fine day. He ran his trade on secrecy and close
family limitations. He had no range. His joy was to have a corner
unknown to a soul else in the world. Fat, lazy, wicked, and sly--
that was Vliet. He belonged to the old school.
"--Now, for years, Hales--of the new school, and challenger--had been
chasing after a rumour that chased after Vliet from port to port--a
rumour that Vliet drew on an uncharted island, in those latitudes,
known only to himself and to so much of his progeny as the old
Solomon didn't mistrust enough to lose overboard. . . . Well, the
belief at Valparaiso is that old Buck Vliet, with his schooner--on
which he grudged a penny for repairs--had found an ocean grave at
last, somewhere. The guess is that he overdid the _Two Brothers_ in
the end, being careless of warnings, with a top-hamper of wives.
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