“Captain Gascoyne has reason to be proud of his pedestrian powers,” said the young commander; “he must have had urgent reason, for making such good use of his legs since we last met.”

“To do the honors of his own ship, when he expects a visit from a British officer, is surely sufficient reason to induce a poor skipper to take an extra walk of a fine evening,” replied Gascoyne, blandly.  “Besides, I know that men-of-war are apt to take a fancy to the crews of merchantmen sometimes, and I thought my presence might be necessary here to-night.”

“How?” exclaimed Montague, quickly.  “Do you fancy that your single arm, stout though it be, could avail to prevent this evil that you dread if I think proper to act according to established usage in time of war?”

“Nay, that were extreme vanity indeed,” returned the other; “but I would fain hope that the explanations which I can give of the danger of our peculiar trade, and the necessity we have for a strong crew, will induce Captain Montague to forego his undoubted privilege and right on this occasion.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Montague; “it will depend much on your explanations being satisfactory.  How many men have you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“So many!  That is much more than enough to work so small a vessel.”

“But not more than enough to defend my vessel from a swarm of bloody savages.”

“Perhaps not,” returned Montague, on whom the urbanity and candor of the captain of the Foam were beginning to have a softening influence.  “You have no objection to let me see your papers, and examine your ship, I suppose.”

“None in the world,” replied Gascoyne, smiling; “and if I had, it would make little difference, I should imagine, to one who is so well able to insist on having his will obeyed.” (He glanced at the boat full of armed men as he spoke.) “Pray, come below with me.”

In the examination that ensued, Captain Montague was exceedingly strict, although the strength of his first suspicions had been somewhat abated by the truthful tone and aspect of Gascoyne, and the apparent reasonableness of all he said; but he failed to detect anything in the papers, or in the general arrangements of the Foam, that could warrant his treating her otherwise than as an honest trader.

“So,” said he, on returning to the deck; “this is the counterpart of the noted pirate, is it?  You must pardon my having suspected you, sir, of being this same Durward, sailing under false colors.  Come, let me see the points of difference between you, else if we happen to meet on the high seas I may chance to make an unfortunate hole in your timbers.”

“The sides of my schooner are altogether black, as you see,” returned Gascoyne.  “I have already explained that a narrow streak of red distinguishes the pirate; and this fair lady” (leading Montague to the bow) “guides the Foam over the waves with smiling countenance, while a scarlet griffin is the more appropriate figurehead of Durward’s vessel.”