“Suspicion is awake among my people, Mr Ark,” commenced the Rover, when they were thus retired, laying a marked and significant emphasis on the name he used.  “Suspicion is stirring, though, as yet, they hardly know what to credit.  The manoeuvres of the two ships have not been such as they are wont to see, and voices are not wanting to whisper in their ears matter that is somewhat injurious to your interests.  You have not done well, sir, in returning among us.”

“I came by the order of my superior, and under the sanction of a flag.”

“We are small reasoners in the legal distinction of the world, and may mistake your rights in so novel a character.  But,” he immediately added, with dignity, “if you bear a message, I may presume it is intended for my ears.”

“And for no other.  We are not alone, Captain Heidegger.”

“Heed not the boy; he is deaf at my will.”

“I could wish to communicate to you only the offers that I bear.”

“That mast is not more senseless than Roderick,” said the other calmly, but with decision.

“Then must I speak at every hazard.—­The Commander of yon ship, who bears the commission of our royal master George the Second, has ordered me to say thus much for your consideration:  On condition that you will surrender this vessel, with all her stores, armament, and warlike munitions, uninjured he will content himself with taking ten hostages from your crew, to be decided by lot, yourself, and one other of your officers, and either to receive the remainder into the service of the King, or to suffer them to disperse in pursuit of a calling more creditable, and, as it would now appear, more safe.”

“This is the liberality of a prince!  I should kneel and kiss the deck before one whose lips utter such sounds of mercy!”

“I repeat but the words of my superior,” Wilder resumed.  “For yourself, he further promises, that his interest shall be exerted to procure a pardon, on condition that you quit the seas, and renounce the name of Englishman for ever.”

“The latter is done to his hands:  But may I know the reason that such lenity is shewn to one whose name has been so long proscribed of men?”

“Captain Bignall has heard of your generous treatment of his officer, and the delicacy that the daughter and widow of two ancient brethren in arms have received at your hands.  He confesses that rumour has not done entire justice to your character.”

A mighty effort kept down the gleam of exultation that flashed across the features of the listener, who, however, succeeded in continuing utterly calm and immovable.

“He has been deceived, sir”—­he coldly resumed, as though he would encourage the other to proceed.

“That much is he free to acknowledge.  A representation of this common error, to the proper authorities, will have weight in procuring the promised amnesty for the past, and, as he hopes, brighter prospects for the future.”