“There ain’t no private part to this yer ship—­that ez, ’cepting the rooms and lofts,” said Mr. Nott, authoritatively.  Then, subjecting the anxious look of his daughter to his usual faculty for misconception, he added, “Thar ain’t no place whar you haven’t as much right to go ez any other man; thar ain’t any man, furriner or Amerykan, young or old, dyed or undyed, ez hev got any better rights.  You hear me, young fellow.  Mr. Renshaw—­my darter.  My darter—­Mr. Renshaw.  Rosey, give the gentleman a chair.  She’s only jest come in from a promeynade, and hez jest taken off her bonnet,” he added, with an arch look at Rosey and a hurried look around the cabin, as if he hoped to see the missing gift visible to the general eye.  “So take a seat a minit, won’t ye?”

But Mr. Renshaw, after an observant glance at the young girl’s abstracted face, brusquely excused himself.  “I’ve got a letter to write,” he said, with a half bow to Rosey.  “Good night.”

He crossed the passage to the room that had been assigned to him, and closing the door gave way to some irritability of temper in his efforts to light the lamp and adjust his writing materials.  For his excuse to Mr. Nott was more truthful than most polite pretexts.  He had, indeed, a letter to write, and one that, being yet young in duplicity, the near presence of his host rendered difficult.  For it ran as follows:—­

DEAR SLEIGHT:  As I found I couldn’t get a chance to make any examination of the ship except as occasion offered, I just went in to rent lodgings in her from the God-forsaken old ass who owns her, and here I am a tenant for two months.  I contracted for that time in case the old fool should sell out to some one else before.  Except that she’s cut up a little between decks by the partitions for lofts that that Pike County idiot has put into her, she looks but little changed, and her fore-hold, as far as I can judge, is intact.  It seems that Nott bought her just as she stands, with her cargo half out, but he wasn’t here when she broke cargo.  If anybody else had bought her but this cursed Missourian, who hasn’t got the hayseed out of his hair, I might have found out something from him, and saved myself this kind of fooling, which isn’t in my line.  If I could get possession of a loft on the main deck, well forward, just over the fore-hold, I could satisfy myself in a few hours, but the loft is rented by that crazy Frenchman who parades Montgomery Street every afternoon, and though old Pike County wants to turn him out, I’m afraid I can’t get it for a week to come.

If anything should happen to me, just you waltz down here and corral my things at once, for this old frontier pirate has a way of confiscating his lodgers’ trunks.

Yours, DICK.

III.