It is said by the wiseacres of the world that you should always set a thief to catch a thief. Whether it was from a belief in this principle of nature, or whether it was from an innate liking for the business it would be difficult to say; but it is a fact that the Buccaneer made himself for some considerable time a policeman, to keep order amongst his neighbours, and prevent the strong from robbing and setting upon the weak. Oh! the trouble the man had! Big fellows pitching into little ones, to get either their marbles or apples! Then he not only had to keep his neighbours from robbing each other, but he had to keep them off his own property; for had they dared they would have stripped him as naked as the desert is of vegetation. The rascals!

During the time that the Buccaneer was thus doing policeman's duty he was generally pretty well employed, for there was always a row on somewhere; either some hen-roost being robbed, or some pot-house brawl to be quelled, so that all things considered he was not doing a good business. Indeed, he was getting for his trouble little more than hard blows, more kicks than half-pence, in fact.

After a while he determined to give the policeman's duty up; finding no doubt that it did not pay; and he was very much too sensible to conduct business upon such terms for any length of time. So he allowed people to mind their own business as far as they could, while he paid more attention to his own. Of course this state of things was not brought about all at once, for the force of custom is great, and for the life of him, the Buccaneer could not refrain from having an occasional finger in the pie.

The Buccaneer now doffed his pirate's dress, which, though picturesque, was not altogether respectable. People will have prejudices, and if they see a man constantly going about with a brace of pistols in his belt, and a cutlass by his side, they will think that that man is up to no good; so he hung these weapons up, quite handy, for there was no knowing when he might want them to keep off robbers either by sea or land.

But, gentle reader, do not for a moment imagine that the old man was dead—not a bit of of it. Beneath the peaceful dress he now assumed there still beat the old heart. You may cover the lion with the skin of an ass but you cannot change the nature of the beast. Our friend was as ready as ever to tread upon his neighbours' toes, and to fight with anybody who trod upon his. Then the peaceful stillness of his shores would be broken by the clack, clack of his many windlasses, and the "yo heave-ho" of his merry men. Up would go his sails, out would go his guns, poking their black, angry-looking snouts through the port-holes, as if they sniffed the enemy in the offing. Away went the Buccaneer for the main. His priests prayed; his merry seamen swore, and his women and children cried, as it was their duty to do, upon all such important and interesting occasions.