“I shall be happy to gain information from any source,” replied Montague, eying the captain narrowly, “Are you a resident in this island?”

“No, I am not; my home is on the sea, and has been since I was a lad.”

“Ah! you have fallen in with this pirate, then, on your native ocean, I fancy, and have disagreeable cause to remember him, perchance,” said Montague, smiling.  “Has he given you much trouble?”

“Aye, that he has,” replied Gascoyne, with a sudden scowl of ferocity.  “No one in these seas has received so much annoyance from him as I have.  Any one who could rid them of his presence would do good service to the cause of humanity.  But,” he added, while a grim smile overspread his handsome face, “it is said that few vessels can cope with his schooner in speed, and I can answer for it that he is a bold man, fond of fighting, with plenty of reckless cut-throats to back him, and more likely to give chase to a sloop-of-war than to show her his heels.  I trust you are well manned and armed, Captain Montague; for this Durward is a desperate fellow, I assure you.”

The young commander’s countenance flushed as he replied, “Your anxiety on my account, sir, is quite uncalled for.  Had I nothing but my own longboat wherewith to attack this pirate, it would be my duty to do so.  I had scarcely expected to find unmanly fears exhibited in one so stalwart in appearance as you are.  Perhaps it may relieve you to know that I am both well manned and armed.  It is not usual for a British man-of-war to cruise in distant seas in a less suitable condition to protect her flag.  And yet, methinks, one who has spent so many years of his life on salt water might know the difference between a frigate and a sloop-of-war.”

“Be not so hasty, young man,” answered Gascoyne, gravely; “you are not on your own quarter-deck just now.  There ought to be civility between strangers.  I may, indeed, be very ignorant of the cut and rig of British war vessels, seeing that I am but a plain trader in seas where ships of war are not often wont to unfurl their flags, but there can be no harm, and there was meant no offense, in warning you to be on your guard.”

A tinge of sarcasm still lingered in Captain Montague’s tone as he replied, “Well, I thank you for the caution.  But to come to the point, what know you of this pirate,—­this Durward, as he calls himself; though I have no doubt he has sailed under so many aliases that he may have forgotten his real name.”

“I know him to be a villain,” replied Gascoyne.

“That much I know as well as you,” said Montague.

“And yet it is said he takes fits of remorse at times, and would fain change his way of life if he could,” continued Gascoyne.

“That I might guess,” returned the other; “most wicked men have their seasons of remorse.  Can you tell me nothing of him more definite than this, friend?”

“I can tell you that he is the very bane of my existence,” said Gascoyne, the angry expression again flitting for a moment across his countenance, “He not only pursues and haunts me like my own shadow, but he gets me into scrapes by passing his schooner off for mine when he is caught.”