“Do ye see, Master Arundel,” said the Captain, “I think there is some difference between the red skins and the blackamoors.  To be sure they are all heathens, and for that reason not much better than so many big monkeys; and there’s a comfort in that, do ye see, because that gives us a right to catch and make them do our disagreeable work.  Anyhow, I’ve read in Scripture that Ham, who was the old ringleader of the niggars, was made black on purpose.  Now, according to my notion, these red skins are a sort o’ cross betwixt Ham’s and Japhet’s children, who were cousins, you know, for do ye see, though they’re darkish, they have got long hair like us white men.  But come, let us sit down and splice the main brace to better acquaintance.”

Arundel accepted the invitation to a seat, for he knew not how better to pass the time than in watching the humors around him, but declined participating in any potations.  The Indian too, much to the surprise of the Captain and of Arundel, refused to drink, and to the pressing entreaties of the former only answered,

“Waqua is not thirsty.”

“I believe,” said the Captain, peevishly, “that the bad manners of these crop ears will spoil the very heathens themselves at last.  Whoever heard of an Indian before who refused drink when he could get it?”

“Noble Captain,” said Arundel, “be not offended at our friend, who is not accustomed to wine, and therefore is probably afraid of the effect upon himself; nor with me, who never could bear more than half a dozen glasses, and have already sufficiently indulged.”

“Well, if there is anything I pray for more than for another,” exclaimed the disappointed Captain, “it is that I may never become a milksop (saving your presence, Master Arundel).”

“There is not much danger of that,” said the young man, laughing.  “But what is the difficulty across the room?”

A group of some dozen persons had been engaged for a considerable time in animated conversation, the tones of which had gradually been growing louder, until at last they could be heard above all other noises.  As the sounds increased, the general hum of conversation died by degrees away, until the whole interest was centered in the group above mentioned.

“I will stand by stout Capt.  Endicott,” said a strongly built man in citizen’s dress, and holding a musket in his hand, “resting assured that he does nothing without a reason, and that his conduct doth spring from a godly zeal.”

“And I will maintain, in any proper mode,” replied an officer-looking personage, “that it was a deed insulting to his majesty, and disgraceful to a British subject.  If not treason, it is something very like.”

“Bethink you, Colonel McMahon,” said the first speaker, “that this is not England.  I trow we left her to but little purpose, if we are to enjoy no more liberty here than there.”

“What kind of a liberty call you that, Capt.  Larkham,” demanded the other, “which authorizes Endicott, or any other man, to cut out the cross from the King’s colors?  Call you yourselves loyal subjects who tolerate such an outrage?”