“The stick wanted the commission of our mistress,” interrupted the other, glancing his eye at the credulous and attentive crew of the boat.  “In a thoughtless moment, ’twas taken up at sea, and fashioned to our purpose without counsel from the book.  Nothing that touches our decks, under fitting advice, comes to harm.—­You look incredulous, and ’tis in character to seem so.  If you refuse to listen to the lady of the brigantine, at least lend an ear to your own laws.  Of what offence can you charge Master Seadrift, that you hold him captive?”

“His redoubted name of ‘Skimmer of the Seas’ were warranty to force him from a sanctuary,” returned Ludlow, smiling.  “Though proof should fail of any immediate crime, there is impunity for the arrest, since the law refuses to protect him.”

“This is your boasted justice!  Rogues in authority combine to condemn an absent and a silent man.  But if you think to do your violence with impunity, know there are those who take deep interest in the welfare of that youth.”

“This is foolish bandying of menaces,” said the captain, warmly.  “If you accept my offers, speak; and if you reject them, abide the consequences.”

“I abide the consequences.  But since we cannot come to terms, as victor and the submitting party, we may part in amity.  Touch my hand, Captain Ludlow, as one brave man should salute another, though the next minute they are to grapple at the throat.”

Ludlow hesitated.  The proposal was made with so frank and manly a mien, and the air of the free-trader, as he leaned beyond the gunwale of his boat, was so superior to his pursuit, that, unwilling to seem churlish, or to be outdone in courtesy, he reluctantly consented, and laid his palm within that the other offered.  The smuggler profited by the junction to draw the boats nearer, and, to the amazement of all who witnessed the action, he stepped boldly into the yawl, and was seated, face to face, with its officer in a moment.

“These are matters that are not fit for every ear,” said the decided and confident mariner, in an under tone, when he had made this sudden change in the position of the parties.  “Deal with me frankly, Captain Ludlow:—­is your prisoner left to brood on his melancholy, or does he feel the consolation of knowing that others take an interest in his welfare?”

“He does not want for sympathy, Master Tiller—­since he has the pity of the finest woman in America.”

“Ha! la belle Barberie owns her esteem!—­is the conjecture right?”

“Unhappily, you are too near the truth.  The infatuated girl seems but to live in his presence.  She has so far forgotten the opinions of others, as to follow him to my ship!”

Tiller listened intently, and, from that instant, all concern disappeared from his countenance.

“He who is thus favored may, for a moment, even forget the brigantine!” he exclaimed, with all his natural recklessness of air.  “And the Alderman——?”