Wilder started as this unexpected individual appeared; nor was the stranger wanting in an aspect sufficiently remarkable to produce surprise in any spectator.  The face was that of a man of fifty, with the lineaments rather indurated than faded by time.  Its colour was an uniform red, with the exception of one of those expressive little fibrous tell-tales on each cheek, which bear so striking a resemblance to the mazes of the vine, and which would seem to be the true origin of the proverb which says that “good wine needs no bush.”  The head was bald on its crown; but around either ear was a mass of grizzled hair, pomatumed and combed into formal military bristles.  The neck was long, and supported by a black stock; the shoulders, arms, and body were those of a man of tall stature; and the whole were enveloped in an over-coat, which, though it had something methodical in its fashion, was evidently intended as a sort of domino.  The Captain raised his head as the other spoke, exclaiming,—­

“Ah!  General, are you at your post?  Did you find the land?”

“Yes.”

“And the point?—­and the man?”

“Both.”

“And what did you?”

“Obey orders.”

“That was right.—­You are a jewel for an executive officer, General; and, as such, I wear you near my heart.  Did the fellow complain?”

“He was gagged.”

“A summary method of closing remonstrance.  It is as it should be, General; as usual, you have merited my approbation.”

“Then reward me for it.”

“In what manner?  You are already as high in rank as I can elevate you.  The next step must be knighthood.”

“Pshaw! my men are no better than militia.  They want coats.”

“They shall have them.  His Majesty’s guards shall not be half so well equipt.  General, I wish you a good night.”

The figure descended, in the same rigid, spectral manner as it had risen on the sight, leaving Wilder again alone with the Captain of the ship.  The latter seemed suddenly struck with the fact that this odd interview had occurred in the presence of one who was nearly a stranger, and that, in his eyes at least, it might appear to require some explanation.

“My friend,” he said, with an air something explanatory while it was at the same time not a little naughty, “commands what, in a more regular cruiser, would be called the ‘marine guard.’  He has gradually risen, by service, from the rank of a subaltern, to the high station which he now fills.  You perceive he smells of the camp?”

“More than of the ship.  Is it usual for slavers to be so well provided with military equipments?  I find you armed at all points.”

“You would know more of us, before we proceed to drive our bargain?” the Captain answered, with a smile.  He then opened a little casket that stood on the table, and drew from it a parchment, which he coolly handed to Wilder, saying, as he did so, with one of the quick, searching glances of his restless eye, “You will see, by that, we have ‘letters of marque,’ and are duly authorized to fight the battles of the King, while we are conducting our own more peaceable affairs.”