“These are certainly favouring circumstances, and such as I had not the sagacity to detect.—­But why incur the risk at all?”

“Why!  Perhaps there is a deep-laid scheme to learn if the prize would repay the loss of her capture; perhaps——­it is my humour.  There is fearful excitement in the adventure.”

“And there is fearful danger.”

“I never count the price of these enjoyments.—­Wilder,” he added, turning to him with a look of frank and courteous confidence, “I place life and honour in your keeping; for to me it would be dishonour to desert the interests of my crew.”

“The trust shall be respected,” repeated our adventurer in a tone so deep and choaked as to be nearly unintelligible.

Regarding the still ingenuous countenance of his companion intently for an instant, the Rover smiled as if he approved of the pledge, waved his hand in adieu, and, turning, was about to leave the cabin but a third form, at that moment, caught his wandering glance.  Laying a hand lightly on the shoulder of the boy, whose form was placed somewhat obtrusively in his way, he demanded, a little sternly.

“Roderick, what means this preparation?”

“To follow my master to the boat.”

“Boy, thy service is not needed.”

“It is rarely wanted of late.”

“Why should I add unnecessarily to the risk of lives, where no good can attend the hazard?”

“In risking your own, you risk all to me,” was the answer, given in a tone so resigned, and yet so faltering that the tremulous and nearly smothered sounds caught no ears but those for whom they were intended.

The Rover for a time replied not.  His hand still kept its place on the shoulder of the boy, whose working features his riveted eye read, as the organ is sometimes wont to endeavour to penetrate the mystery of the human heart.

“Roderick,” he at length said, in a milder and a a kinder voice, “your lot shall be mine; we go together.”

Then, dashing his hand hastily across his brow the wayward chief ascended the ladder, attended by the lad, and followed by the individual in whose faith he reposed so great a trust.  The step with which the Rover trod his deck was firm, and the bearing of his form as steady as though he felt no hazard in his undertaking.  His look passed, with a seaman’s care, from sail to sail; and not a brace, yard, or bow-line escaped the quick understanding glances he cast about him, before he proceeded to the side, in order to enter a boat which he had already ordered to be in waiting.  A glimmering of distrust and hesitation was now, for the first time, discoverable through the haughty and bold decision of his features.  For a moment his foot lingered on the ladder.  “Davis,” he said sternly to the individual whom, by his own experience he knew to be so long practised in treachery “leave the boat.  Send me the gruff captain of the forecastle in his place.  So bold a talker, in common, should know how to be silent at need.”