Notwithstanding the excitement of the moment, and the joy felt on all sides at the timely arrival of the English officer and his people,—­notwithstanding the surprise of the moment, that filled all present at the singular melting of old friends under such extraordinary circumstances, yet a close observer might have noticed an ill-suppressed expression of dissatisfaction upon Captain Ratlin’s face, as he saw the English captain in friendly and even familiar intercourse with mother and daughter.

“Who could have possibly foreseen this strange, this opportune meeting?” said the mother.

“It is as strange as agreeable, I assure you,” replied the new comer.  “And you were wrecked and picked up at sea, you say, and brought here by—­”

“Captain Ratlin,” interrupted the daughter, fearing that her mother would have introduced a word that would have betrayed their protector.

“Yes, by Captain Ratlin,” continued the mother, “permit me to introduce you, gentlemen.  Captain Bramble, this is Captain Ratlin; you are both seamen, and there is no need of compliments, though I am seriously indebted to you both.”

“Of the merchant service, I presume?” said the English officer, regarding the young and handsome commander of the “Sea Witch” with a somewhat suspicious eye.

“From childhood,” was the cool reply, while, as though by a feeling of common content, both turned away from each other, to other objects.

Captain Bramble saw that she whom he had so profitlessly saved,—­she whose smile would have been invaluable to him, now spoke low and gently to the merchant captain; and even smiled kindly upon his remarks to her, of whatever nature they might be.  Doubtless, from the moment of their introduction, a vague suspicion of his true character crossed the English officer’s thoughts, but now he needed no other incentive, than the fact that Miss Huntington received and entertained his addresses so agreeably, and with such evident pleasure, to make him more than watchful, and resolved to find out the truth.

“You are not long arrived, Captain Ratlin?” asked the other.

“Within these two weeks,” was the calm reply.

“Not seeing your vessel, I presume she has gone to the windward, for ivory.”

“Or perhaps to leeward for other cargo,” answered the other, somewhat haughtily.

The hint was sufficient, and the English officer saw that, let his trade be what it might, he had one to deal with who was master of his own business, and who feared no one.

It was nearly night when Maud Leonardo reappeared, expressing profound surprise at what had occurred, and feigning well-assumed grief and regret, so honestly, too, as to deceive all parties who observed her.  But her secret chagrin could hardly be expressed.  Indeed, her father, who knew her better than any one else, saw that there was something wrong in his daughter’s spirit, that some event had seriously annoyed and moved her.  He knew the child possessed of much of her mother’s wild, revengeful disposition, and though even he never for a moment suspected her unnatural treachery, yet he resolved to watch her.