“Ah!  I often do things in that way, in order to be odd.  It is a sign of cleverness to be odd, you know.—­But I, too, am sent into these seas on a special errand.”

“Such as what?” bluntly demanded his companion with an uneasiness about his frowning eye that he was far too simple-minded to conceal.

“To look for a ship that will certainly give me a famous lift, should I have the good luck to fall in with her.  For some time, I took you for the very gentle man I was in search of; and I do assure you, if your signals had not been so very unexceptionable, something serious might have happened between us.”

“And pray, sir, for whom did you take me?”

“For no other than that notorious knave the Red Rover.”

“The devil you did!  And do yon suppose, Captain Howard, there is a pirate afloat who carries such hamper above his head as is to be found aboard the Dart?’ Such a set to her sails—­such a step to her masts—­and such a trim to her hull?  I hope, for the honour of your vessel, sir, that the mistake went no further than the Captain?”

“Until we got within leading distance of the signals, at least a moiety of the better opinions in my ship was dead against you, Bignall, I give you my declaration.  You’ve really been so long from home, that the ‘Dart’ is getting quite a roving look.  You may not be sensible of it, but I assure you of the fact merely as a friend.”

“And, perhaps, since you did me the honour to mistake my vessel for a freebooter,” returned the old tar, smothering his ire in a look of facetious irony, which changed the expression of his mouth to a grim grin, “you might have conceited this honest gentleman here to be no other than Beelzebub.”

As he spoke, the Commander of the ship, which had borne so odious an imputation, directed the eyes of his companion to the form of a third individual, who had entered the cabin with the freedom of a privileged person, but with a tread so light as to be inaudible.  As this unexpected form met the quick, impatient glance of the pretended officer of the Crown, he arose involuntarily, and, for half a minute, that admirable command of muscle and nerve, which had served him so well in maintaining his masquerade, appeared entirely to desert him.  The loss of self-possession, however, was but for a time so short as to attract no notice; and he coolly returned the salutations of an aged man, of a meek and subdued look, with that air of blandness and courtesy which he so well knew how to assume.

“This gentleman is your chaplain, sir, I presume, by his clerical attire,” he said, after he had exchanged bows with the stranger.

“He is, sir—­a worthy and honest man, whom I am not ashamed to call my friend.  After a separation of thirty years, the Admiral has been good enough to lend him to me for the cruise; and, though my ship is none of the largest, I believe he finds himself as comfortable in her as he would aboard the flag.—­This gentleman, Doctor, is the honourable Captain Howard, of his Majesty’s ship ‘Antelope.’  I need not expatiate on his remarkable merit, since the command he bears, at his years, is a sufficient testimony on that important particular.”