The brightness of these arms, and the handy way in which they were arranged in the sockets made to receive them, showed at once that they were designed for use, while the various other fixtures of the cabin and docks plainly bespoke preparation for conflict.  A strong and lofty boarding-netting being stowed, also, told of the readiness of the “Sea Witch” to repel boarders.  That all these preparations had been made merely as ordinary precautions in a peaceful trade was by no means probable; and yet there they were, and there stood the bright-eyed, handsome and youthful commander upon the quarter-deck, but he did not look the desperado—­such a term would have poorly accorded with his open and manly countenance, hie quiet and gentlemanly mien.  A pirate would hardly have dared to lay the course he steered in these latitudes, where an English or French cruiser was very likely to cross his track.

“He handles a ship as prettily as ever a true blue did yet,” said one of the forecastle group, in replying to some remark of a comrade concerning the commander.

“That’s true,” answered another; “he seems to have a sort of natural way with him, as though he’d been born aboard and never seed the land at all; and as to that matter, there may be them on board who say as much of him.”

“That isn’t far from the truth,” answered Bill Marline, “seein’ he started so arly on the sea he can’t tell when he wasn’t there himself.”

“How was that matter, Bill?” asked one of his messmates.  “They say you have kept the captain’s reckoning, man and boy, these fifteen years.”

“That have I, and never a truer heart floated than the man you see yonder leaning over the rail on the quarterdeck, where he belongs,” answered Bill Marline.

“How did you first fall in with him, Bill?—­Tell us that,” said one of the crew.

“Well, do ye see, messmates, it must have been the matter of thirteen years ago, there or thereabouts, but I can’t exactly say, seeing’s I never have kept a log and can’t write; but must have been about that length of time, when I was a foremast hand on board the ‘Sea Lion,’ as fine an Indiaman as you would wish to see.  We were lying in the Liverpool docks, with sails bent and cargo stowed, under sailing orders, when one afternoon there strolled alongside a boy rather ragged and dirty, but with such eyes and such a countenance as would make him a passport anywhere.  Well, do ye see, we were lazing away time on board, and waiting the captain’s coming before we hauled out into the stream, and so we coaxed the lad aboard.  He either didn’t know where he came from or wouldn’t tell, and when we proposed to take him to sea with us, he readily agreed, and sure enough he sailed in the ‘Sea Lion.’”

“Well, heave ahead, Bill,” said one of the group, as the narrator stopped to stove a fresh instalment of the Virginia weed in his larboard cheek.

“Heave ahead.”