The face of the dealer in contraband had lost some of its usual brightness and animation; the color of the cheek was not as rich, and the eye was less at ease, than in his former interviews with Ludlow.  But a smile of security crossed his fine features, when the other spoke of the fate of the brigantine.

“The keel of the ship that is to capture the Water-Witch is not yet laid,” he said, firmly; “nor is the canvas that is to drive her through the water, wove!  Our mistress is not so heedless as to sleep, when there is most occasion for her services.”

“This mummery of a supernatural aid may be of use in holding the minds of the ignorant beings who follow your fortunes, in subjection, but it is lost when addressed to me.  I have ascertained the position of the brigantine—­nay, I have been under her very bowsprit, and so near her cut-water, as to have examined her moorings.  Measures are now taking to improve my knowledge, and to secure the prize.”

The free-trader heard him without exhibiting alarm, though he listened with an attention that rendered his breathing audible.

“You found my people vigilant?” he rather carelessly observed, than asked.

“So much so, that I have said the skiff was pulled beneath her martingale, without a hail!  Had there been means, it would not have required many moments to cut the hawser by which she rides, and to have laid your beauteous vessel ashore!”

The gleam of Seadrift’s eye was like the glance of an eagle.  It seemed to inquire, and to resent, in the same instant.  Ludlow shrunk from the piercing look, and reddened to the brow,—­whether with his recollections, or not, it is unnecessary to explain.

“The worthy device was thought of!—­nay, it was attempted!” exclaimed the other, gathering confirmation in the consciousness of his companion.—­“You did not—­you could not succeed!”

“Our success will be proved in the result.”

“The lady of the brigantine forgot not her charge!  You saw her bright eye—­her dark and meaning face!  Light shone on that mysterious countenance—­my words are true, Ludlow, thy tongue is silent, but that honest countenance confesses all!”

The gay dealer in contraband turned away, and laughed in his merriest manner.

“I knew it would be so,” he continued, “what is the absence of one humble actor from her train.  Trust me, you will find her coy as ever, and ill-disposed to hold converse with a cruiser who speaks so rudely through his cannon.  Ha!—­here are auditors!”

An officer, to announce the near approach of a boat, entered.  Both Ludlow and his prisoner started at this intelligence, and it was not difficult to fancy both believed that a message from the Water-Witch might be expected.  The former hastened on deck; while the latter, notwithstanding a self-possession that was so much practised, could not remain entirely at his ease.  He passed into the state-room, and it is more than probable that he availed himself of the window of its quarter-gallery, to reconnoitre those who were so unexpectedly coming to the ship.