Captain Delano crossed over to him, and stood in silence surveying the knot; his mind, by a not uncongenial transition, passing from its own entanglements to those of the hemp.  For intricacy, such a knot he had never seen in an American ship, nor indeed any other.  The old man looked like an Egyptian priest, making Gordian knots for the temple of Ammon.  The knot seemed a combination of double-bowline-knot, treble-crown-knot, back-handed-well-knot, knot-in-and-out-knot, and jamming-knot.

At last, puzzled to comprehend the meaning of such a knot, Captain Delano addressed the knotter:—­

“What are you knotting there, my man?”

“The knot,” was the brief reply, without looking up.

“So it seems; but what is it for?”

“For some one else to undo,” muttered back the old man, plying his fingers harder than ever, the knot being now nearly completed.

While Captain Delano stood watching him, suddenly the old man threw the knot towards him, saying in broken English—­the first heard in the ship—­something to this effect:  “Undo it, cut it, quick.”  It was said lowly, but with such condensation of rapidity, that the long, slow words in Spanish, which had preceded and followed, almost operated as covers to the brief English between.

For a moment, knot in hand, and knot in head, Captain Delano stood mute; while, without further heeding him, the old man was now intent upon other ropes.  Presently there was a slight stir behind Captain Delano.  Turning, he saw the chained negro, Atufal, standing quietly there.  The next moment the old sailor rose, muttering, and, followed by his subordinate negroes, removed to the forward part of the ship, where in the crowd he disappeared.

An elderly negro, in a clout like an infant’s, and with a pepper and salt head, and a kind of attorney air, now approached Captain Delano.  In tolerable Spanish, and with a good-natured, knowing wink, he informed him that the old knotter was simple-witted, but harmless; often playing his odd tricks.  The negro concluded by begging the knot, for of course the stranger would not care to be troubled with it.  Unconsciously, it was handed to him.  With a sort of conge, the negro received it, and, turning his back, ferreted into it like a detective custom-house officer after smuggled laces.  Soon, with some African word, equivalent to pshaw, he tossed the knot overboard.

All this is very queer now, thought Captain Delano, with a qualmish sort of emotion; but, as one feeling incipient sea-sickness, he strove, by ignoring the symptoms, to get rid of the malady.  Once more he looked off for his boat.  To his delight, it was now again in view, leaving the rocky spur astern.