“Not,” he said, “that the present times do not suit are rarely in purse.  Men are too busy now to look after the doings of every lugger that passes along the coast, and never were French goods so plentiful or so cheap.  Moreover,” he said, “I find that not unfrequently passengers want to be carried to Prance or Holland.  I ask no questions; I care not whether they go on missions from the Royalists or from the Convention; I take their money; I land them at their destination; no questions are asked.  So the times suit me bravely; but for all that I do not like to think of Englishmen and Scotchmen arrayed against their fellows.  I cannot see that it matters one jot whether we are predestinate or not predestinate, or whether it is a bishop who governs a certain church or a presbyter.  I say let each worship in his own way, and not concern himself about his fellows.  If men would but mind their own affairs in religion as they do in business it would be better for us all.”

Harry, as he drank the glass of beer he had ordered, had joined occasionally in the conversation, not taking any part, but agreeing chiefly with the sea-captain in his desire for peace.

“I too,” he said, “have nothing to grumble at.  My beasts fetch good prices for the army, and save that there is a want of hands, I was never doing better.  Still I would gladly see peace established.”

Presently the fishermen, having finished their liquor, retired, and the captain, looking keenly at Harry, said, “Methinks, young sir, that you are not precisely what you seem!”

“That is so,” Harry replied; “I am on business here, It matters not on which side, and it may be that we may strike a bargain together.”

“Do you want to cross the channel?” the captain asked, laughing.  “You seem young to have put your head in a noose already.”

“No,” Harry said, “I do not want to cross myself; but I want to send some others across.  I suppose that if a passenger or two were placed on board your ship, to be landed in Holland, you would not deem it necessary to question them closely, or to ascertain whether they also were anxious to arrive at that destination?”

“By no means,” the captain replied.  “Goods consigned to me will be delivered at the port to which they are addressed, and I should consider that with passengers as with goods, I must carry them to the port for which their passage is taken.”

“Good,” Harry said; “if that is the case, methinks that when you sail—­and,” he asked, breaking off, “when do you sail?”

“To-morrow morning, if the wind is fair,” the captain answered.  “But if it would pay me better to stop for a few hours, I might do so.”

“To-morrow night, if you will wait till then,” Harry said, “I will place three passengers on board, and will pay you your own sum to land them at Flushing, or any other place across the water to which you may be bound.  I will take care that they will make no complaints whatever, or address any remonstrance to you, until after you have fairly put to sea.  And then, naturally, you will feel yourself unable to alter the course of your ship.”