They were wonderfully quiet. I could not hear a whisper, only the tap-tap of feet, as they came forward one by one and took stations about the hatch. Then I heard Cavarly speaking, first softly, then sharp and loud: “Everyone cover his man, and stand for orders. Down with you!” They went down with a roar, and so much confused noise rose up immediately that I made out but one separate sound, the sharp crack of a single pistol. It was quiet a moment, and then only Cavarly's voice giving commands. I lifted the edge of the canvas once more. The main deck was empty, except for one man at the gangway. On the quarter deck Calhoun was standing in the light of the companion. He walked forward and spoke to the man at the gangway. A stream of men were coming up the fore hatch now, marching aft, two by two, at intervals of twenty feet, and passing quite near me. Simpson went first, his mouth working terribly with shame and anger. The rear man of each couple held a level pistol, and the moonlight shone on the barrel. Calhoun came along by them, sat on the end of the ship's boat over me and fell to whistling softly. Jimmie Hames passed, limping and half carried. He swore at Calhoun, who stopped whistling a moment and took it up again. Each man sent his prisoner down the gangway, and fell into line with his pistol lifted and ready. Cavarly came forward, when that was settled, and sat on the edge of the ship's boat. “Mr. Calhoun,” he began, “this here's a Confede'ate privateer.” “So I suppose. Very clever, captain.” “I hold letters of marque, quite regular, from Richmond.” “So I suppose.” “So you suppose. Jus' so. Will you have a cigar?” Followed the sharp scratching of a match. “You don't call yourself a citizen of anything in particular, hey? You've sailed the South Atlantic conside'able. I haven't myself. Tha's my point. But lookin' at it as a commercial speculation--tha's your point--why, I can offer you the regular qua'ter deck commissions, hey?” “As a commercial speculation,” said Calhoun, “it's no good. You get prizes, but what then? You can't sell them. Your ports are blocked. That's neither your point nor mine, captain.” “Well--then, wha's your point?” “I take it you're out fighting according to your opinions. That's your point. As for me, I see two of my own. First, you've laid out a fair sized circus for this cruise. I like circuses. I'd rather do a tight rope than eat.” “Jus' so,” said Cavarly doubtfully. “Tha's right.” “Second point, this crew, that's leaving us unkindly, is ready to swear me up for treason to a man. They think I'm the snake in the grass. Gerry told you that.” “So he did! He did that.” “Well, now, if you ask me, do I swear everlasting something or other, I say, no. But if it comes to go or stay, I stay, supposing I have the choice. Those are my points.” “You ain't ve'y cordial, tha's a fact.” “Speaking of points, however, is it good enough?” “Oh, yes! Good enough.”