It has been seen that the bearing of Wilder was not altogether such as became one of his rank in a moment of great trial.  The keen, jealous glances of the Rover had studied and re-studied his manner, without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion as to its real cause.  The colour was as fresh on the cheeks of the youth, and his limbs were as firm as in the hours of entire security; but the unsettled wandering of his eye, and an air of doubt and indecision which pervaded a mien that ought to display qualities so opposite, gave his Commander cause for deep reflection.  As if to find an explanation of the enigma in the deportment of the associates of Wilder, his look sought the persons of Fid and the negro.  They were both stationed at the piece nearest to the place he himself occupied, the former filling the station of captain of the gun.

The ribs of the ship itself were not firmer in their places than was the attitude of the topman, as he occasionally squinted along the massive iron tube over which he was placed in command; nor was that familiar and paternal care, which distinguishes the seaman’s interest in his particular trust, wanting in his manner.  Still, an air of broad and inexplicable surprise had possession of his rugged lineaments; and ever, as his look wandered from the countenance of Wilder to their adversary, it was not difficult to discover that he marvelled to find the two in opposition.  He neither commented on, nor complained, however, of an occurrence he evidently found so extraordinary, but appeared perfectly disposed to pursue the spirit of that well-known maxim of the mariner which teaches the obedient tar “to obey orders, though he break owners.”  Every portion of the athletic form of the negro was motionless, except his eyes.  These large, jet-black orbs, however rolled incessantly, like the more dogmatic organs of the topman, from Wilder to the strange sail, seeming to drink in fresh draughts of astonishment at each new look.

Struck by these evident manifestations of some extraordinary and yet common sentiment between the two, the Rover profited by his own position, and the distance of the lieutenant, to address them.  Leaning over the slight rail that separated the break of the poop from the quarter-deck, he said, in that familiar manner which the Commander is most wont to use to his inferiors when their services are becoming of the greatest importance,—­

“I hope, master Fid, they have put you at a gun that knows how to speak.”

“There is not a smoother bore, nor a wider mouth, in the ship, your Honour, than these of ‘Blazing Billy,’” returned the topman, giving the subject of his commendations an affectionate slap.  “All I ask is a clean spunge and a tight wad.  Guinea score a foul anchor, in your own fashion, on a half dozen of the shot; and, after the matter is all over, they who live through it may go aboard the enemy, and see in what manner Richard Fid has planted his seed.”