“Ship aho-o-o-o-o-oy!”

“Hel-lo-o-o-o-o!”

Such was the informal reply of Captain Corbet.

“Heave to-o-o-o, till I send a boat aboard.”

“Hoo-r-a-a-a-a-ay!”

Such was again Captain Corbet’s cheerful and informal answer.

“Wal! wal wal!” he exclaimed, “it does beat my grandmother—­they’re goin to send a boat aboard.”

“What for?”

Captain Corbet grinned, and shook his head, and chuckled very vehemently, but said nothing.  He appeared to be excessively amused with his own thoughts.  The boys looked at the steamer, and then at Captain Corbet, in some wonder; but as he said nothing, they were silent, and waited to see what was going to happen.  Meanwhile Solomon, roused from some mysterious culinary duties by the report of the gun, had scrambled upon the deck, and stood with the others looking out over the water at the steamer.

In a few moments the steamer’s boat was launched, and a half dozen sailors got in, followed by an officer.  Then they put off, and rowed with vigorous strokes towards the schooner.

Captain Corbet watched the boat for some time in silence.

“Cur’ouser an cur’ouser,” he said, at length.  “I’ve knowed the time, boys, when sech an incident as this, on the briny deep, would have fairly keeled me over, an made me moot, an riz every har o’ my head; but look at me now.  Do I tremble? do I shake?  Here, feel my pulse.”

Phil, who stood nearest, put his finger on the outstretched wrist of the captain.

“Doos it beat?”

“No,” said Phil.

“Course it beats; but then it ony beats nateral.  You ain’t feelin the right spot—­the humane pulse not bein sitooated on the back of the hand,” he added mildly, “but here;” and he removed Phil’s inexperienced finger to the place where the pulse lies.  “Thar, now,” he added, “as that pulse beats now, even so it beat a half hour ago, before that thar steamer hev in sight.  Why, boys, I’ve knowed the time when this humane pulse bet like all possessed.  You see, I’ve lived a life of adventoor, in spite of my meek and quiet natoor, an hev dabbled at odd times in the smugglin business.  But they don’t catch me this time—­I’ve retired from that thar, an the Antelope lets the revenoo rest in peace.”

The boat drew nearer and nearer, and the officer at the stern looked scrutinizingly at the Antelope.  There was an air of perplexity about his face, which was very visible to those on board, and the perplexity deepened and intensified as his eyes rested on the flag of the “B.  O. W. C.”

“Leave him to me,” said Captain Corbet.  “Leave that thar young man to me.  I enjy havin to do with a revenoo officer jest now; so don’t go an put in your oars, but jest leave him to me.”

“All right, captain; we won’t say a word,” said Bruce.  “We’ll go on with our fishing quietly.  Come, boys—­look sharp, and down with your lines.”