“Mayhap,” continued the boatswain, swallowing his words, in the surprise of seeing himself so unexpectedly confronted by so imposing an eye, “mayhap this gentleman has some knowledge of the sea, and can decide the matter in dispute.”

“We do not study naval tactics at the universities,” returned the other briskly, “though I will confess, from the little I have heard, I am altogether in favour of scudding.”

He pronounced the latter word with an emphasis which rendered it questionable if he did not mean to pun; the more especially as he threw down his reckoning and instantly left the field to the quiet possession of Nightingale.  The latter, after a short pause, resumed his narrative, though, either from weariness or some other cause, it was observed that his voice was far less positive than before, and that his tale was cut prematurely short.  After completing his narrative and his grog, he staggered to the beach, whither a boat was shortly after despatched to convey him on board the ship, which, during all this time, had not ceased to be the constant subject of the suspicious examination of the good-man Homespun.

In the mean while, the stranger in green had pursued his walk along the main street of the town.  Fid had given chase to the disconcerted Scipio, grumbling as he went, and uttering no very delicate remarks on the knowledge and seamanship of the boatswain.  They soon joined company again, the former changing his attack to the negro, whom he liberally abused, for abandoning a point which he maintained was as simple, and as true, as “that yonder bit of a schooner would make more way, going wing-and-wing, than jammed up on a wind.”

Probably diverted with the touches of peculiar character he had detected in this singular pair of confederates, or possibly led by his own wayward humour, the stranger followed their footsteps.  After turning from the water, they mounted a hill, the latter a little in the rear of his pilots, until he lost sight of them in a bend of the street, or rather road; for by this time, they were past even the little suburbs of the town.  Quickening his steps, the barrister, as he had announced himself to be, was glad to catch a glimpse of the two worthies, seated under a fence several minutes after he had believed them lost.  They were making a frugal meal, off the contents of a little bag which the white had borne under his arm and from which he now dispensed liberally to his companion, who had taken his post sufficiently nigh to proclaim that perfect amity was restored, though still a little in the back ground, in deference to the superior condition which the other enjoyed through favour of his colour.  Approaching the spot, the stranger observed,—­

“If you make so free with the bag, my lads, your third man may have to go supperless to bed.”

“Who hails?” said Dick, looking up from his bone, with an expression much like that of a mastiff when engaged at a similar employment.