The day being excessively warm, his coat and vest had been laid aside.  The room was plainly furnished.  The table was littered with charts and papers, while on a stand were flowers sent to the prisoner by ladies of Boston.

With the instinct of a true gentleman, he proceeded to put on his coat and vest, when the following conversation ensued: 

Rep.  “Pray, captain, keep your coat off.”

Capt.  K. “Thank you, if the same to you?”

Rep.  “Quite the same, I assure you.  My visit is informal.” (Handing him a cigar.)

Capt.  K. “Thanks:  I take things coolly—­waive ceremony.  You know that’s a habit I acquired at sea.  You are a reporter?”

Rep.  “Yes, for the New York Herald.  I call to ascertain your views of the situation.  The public are anxious to hear your defence; and, if proper, I would like to ask you a few questions.”

Capt.  K. “Certainly” (lighting his cigar).  “You newspaper men haven’t given me a fair show.  There’s a heap of lying going on about me.  They are hounding me—­that’s a fact.  I’ve got the evidence to prove that I’m an injured man.  I have a clear conscience, that’s one comfort.”

Rep.  “A great comfort, no doubt.  May I ask, captain, what particular falsehood has gained currency?”

Capt.  K. “Yes, sir.  I will name one that is an unmitigated slander.  They say that when I came across Moore and corrected him with a bucket for his impertinence, he was grinding a chisel.  Now, sir, that is as false as ——!”

Rep.  “Indeed?”

Capt.  K. “Yes, sir, ’twas a screwdriver.”

Rep.  “That shall be corrected, captain.  Anything else?”

Capt.  K. “Yes, sir—­a bigger lie still.  There is a scurrilous broadside circulating all over the country.  Here it is.” (He handed me a copy of verses printed in the Herald of last Tuesday.) “Read that, if you please, sir:  ’My name is Robert Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed.’  Now, sir, that is a villainous falsehood.”

Rep.  “You didn’t sail under that name, then, captain?”

Capt.  K. “Never.  Why, bless your innocent heart, my baptismal name is William.  It is of a piece with all their malignant lying, this persisting in calling me Robert.”

Rep.  “It is hard.” (Pause.) “Pray, captain, permit me to ask if the story is true that Mrs. Kidd’s trunk was seized by the authorities, and kept with its contents of gold-dust and diamonds?”

Capt.  K. “In part true, sir.  A perfect outrage, sir.  Mrs. Kidd came on from New York post-haste when she heard that the Antonio had arrived, and no sooner had she set foot in Boston than the authorities gobbled up her trunk, leaving her in a strange community with nothing but a band-box.  The public have exaggerated the contents.  They were silver mugs, porringers and plate generally for family use, that we had been years accumulating.  They locked it up in the castle, and—­Poor Sarah! poor Sarah!” (Here the stout man buried his head in his hands and appeared deeply affected.  Your correspondent improved the opportunity to perfect his notes.)