Griffin repeated very much what he had said before, merely changing the language, and received the same gagging sounds for an answer.  The gentlemen looked at each other, as much as to express their surprise.  But, unluckily for Ithuel’s plan, he had brought with him from the Granite State a certain propensity to pass all the modulations of his voice through his nose; and the effort to make a suppressed sound brought that member more than usually into requisition, thereby producing a certain disagreeable combination that destroyed everything like music that commonly characterizes the Italian words.  Now, Andrea had been struck with this peculiarity about the tones of the American’s voice, in the interview at Benedetta’s wine-house; and the whole connection between Raoul and this singular person being associated in his mind, the truth flashed on him, as it might be, at a glance.  His previous success that night emboldened the worthy vice-governatore, and, without any remark, he walked steadily up to Ithuel, removed the wig, and permitted the eel-skin queue to resume its natural position on the back of its owner.

“Ha!—­What, veechy,” exclaimed Cuffe, laughing—­“you unearth them like so many foxes to-night.  Now, Griffin, hang me if I do not think I’ve seen that chap before!  Isn’t he the very man we found at the wheel of la Voltigeuse, when we boarded her?”

“Lord bless me, Captain Cuffe—­no, sir.  This fellow is as long as two of that chap—­and yet I know the face too.  I wish you’d let me send for one of the young gentlemen, sir; they’re worth all the rest of the ship at remembering faces.”

The permission was given, and the cabin-steward was sent on deck to desire Mr. Roller, one of the oldest midshipmen, and who was known to have the watch, to come below.

“Look at this fellow, Mr. Roller,” said Griffin, as soon as the youngster had taken his place in the group, “and tell us if you can make anything of him.”

“It’s the lazy-rony, sir, we hoisted in a bit ago when we struck the boat on deck.”

“Aye, no doubt of that—­but we think we have seen his face before;—­can you make that out?”

Roller now walked round the immovable subject of all these remarks; and he, too, began to think the singular-looking object was no stranger to him.  As soon, however, as he got a sight of the queue, he struck Ithuel a smart slap on the shoulder and exclaimed: 

“You’re welcome back, my lad!  I hope you’ll find your berth aloft as much to your mind as it used to be.  This is Bolt, Captain Cuffe, the foretop-man, who ran from us when last in England, was caught and put in a guard-ship, from which they sent us word he stole a boat and got off with two or three French prisoners, who happened to be there at the moment on some inquiry or other.  Don’t you remember it all, Mr. Griffin—­you may remember the fellow pretended to be an American.”