“And that is?——­”

The Captain kept his hand, for a moment, on the roll he had touched, and seemed to read the very soul of his visiter, so intent and keen was his look the while.  Then, suffering the bunting to fall, a deep, blood-red field, without relief or ornament of any sort, unfolded itself, as he answered, with emphasis,—­

“This.”

“That is the colour of a Rover!”

“Ay, it is red!  I like it better than your gloomy fields of black, with death’s heads, and other childish scare-crows.  It threatens nothing; but merely says, ‘Such is the price at which I am to be bought.’  Mr Wilder,” he added, losing the mixture of irony and pleasantry with which he had supported the previous dialogue, in an air of authority, “We understand each other.  It is time that each should sail under his proper colours.  I need not tell you who I am.”

“I believe it is unnecessary,” said Wilder.  “If I can comprehend these palpable signs, I stand in presence of—­of—­”

“The Red Rover,” continued the other, observing that he hesitated to pronounce the appalling name.  “It is true; and I hope this interview is the commencement of a durable and firm friendship.  I know not the secret cause, but, from the moment of our meeting, a strong and indefinable interest has drawn me towards you.  Perhaps I felt the void which my situation has drawn about me;—­be that as it may, I receive you with a longing heart and open arms.”

Though it must be very evident, from what-preceded this open avowal, that Wilder was not ignorant of the character of the ship on board of which he had just ventured, yet did he not receive the acknowledgment without embarrassment.  The reputation of this renowned freebooter, his daring, his acts of liberality and licentiousness so frequently blended, and his desperate disregard of life on all occasions, were probably crowding together in the recollection of our more youthful adventurer, and caused him to feel that species of responsible hesitation to which we are all more or less subject on the occurrence of important events, be they ever so much expected.

“You have not mistaken my purpose, or my suspicions,” he at length answered, “for I own have come in search of this very ship.  I accept the service; and, from this moment, you will rate me in whatever station you may think me best able to discharge my duty with credit.”

“You are next to myself.  In the morning, the same shall be proclaimed on the quarter-deck; and, in the event of my death, unless I am deceived in my man, you will prove my successor.  This may strike you as sudden confidence.  It is so, in part, I must acknowledge; but our shipping lists cannot be opened, like those of the King, by beat of drum in the streets of the metropolis; and, then, am I no judge of the human heart, if my frank reliance on your faith does not, in itself, strengthen your good feelings in my favour.”