James wondered what it was like to live in the church. Did the priest sleep in the pews? Surely if he'd just move ever so lightly in his sleep, he would roll off and fall on the floor. Perhaps he slept on the altar. It had to be nice to have a bed made of gold, though James imagine it made a hard bed to sleep on. Maybe that was why the man was so tall and thin. James mentally pictured him being flattened out from sleeping on such a hard surface like a kneaded ball of dough that sat too long on a counter. Still, it was a golden bed.

"Near Tate Hill Pier... oh... or Mr. and Mrs. Meijer's farm," he replied to the constable's question, quietly contemplating the priesthood as an alternative career choice to pirate.