“I confess, that, in your place, I should sleep on a thorny pillow, with such evidences of the temper of my men before my mind.  A few hours of disorder might deliver the vessel, on any day, into the hands of the Government, and your own life to”——­

“The executioner!  And why not yours?” demandeded the Rover, so quickly, as to give, in a slight degree, an air of distrust to his manner.  “But the eye that has often seen battles seldom winks.  Mine has too often, and too steadily, looked danger in the face to be alarmed at the sight of a King’s pennant.  Besides it is not usual for us to be much on this ticklish coast; the islands, and the Spanish Main, are less dangerous cruising grounds.”

“And yet have yon ventured here at a time when success against the enemy has given the Admiral leisure to employ a powerful force in your pursuit.”

“I had a reason for it.  It is not always easy to separate the Commander from the man.  If I have temporarily forgotten the obligations of the former in the wishes of the latter, so far, at least, harm has not come of it.  I may have tired of chasing your indolent Don, and of driving guarda costas into port.  This life of ours is full of excitement which I love to me, there is interest even in a mutiny!”

“I like not treason.  In this particular, I confess myself like the boor who loses his resolution in the dark.  While the enemy is in view, I hope you will find me true as other men; but sleeping over a mine is not an amusement to my taste.”

“So much for want of practice!  Hazard is hazard come in what shape it may; and the human mind can as readily be taught to be indifferent to secret machinations as to open risk.  Hush!  Struck the bell six, or seven?”

“Seven.  You see the men slumber, as before.  Instinct would wake them, were their hour at hand.”

“’Tis well.  I feared the time had passed.  Yes, Wilder, I love suspense; it keeps the faculties from dying, and throws a man upon the better principles of his nature.  Perhaps I owe it to a wayward spirit, but, to me, there is enjoyment in an adverse wind.’”

“And, in a calm?”

“Calms may have their charms for your quiet spirits; but in them there is nothing to be overcome.  One cannot stir the elements, though one may counteract their workings.”

“You have not entered on this trade of yours “—­

“Yours!”

“I might, now, have said ‘of ours,’ since I too have become a Rover.”

“You are still in your noviciate,” resumed the other, whose quick mind had already passed the point at which the conversation had arrived; “and high enjoyment had I in being the one who shrived you in your wishes.  You manifested a skill in playing round your subject, without touching it, which gives me hopes of an apt scholar.”

“But no penitent, I trust.”

“That as it may be; we are all liable to our moments of weakness, when we look on life as book men paint it, and think of being probationers where we are put to enjoy.  Yes, I angled for you as the fisherman plays with the trout.  Nor did I overlook the danger of deception.  You were faithful on the whole; though I protest against your ever again acting so much against my interests as to intrigue to keep the game from coming to my net.”