Anthony took note of Weir--a careful note; and for the first time he saw in him the man old Rufus had chosen years before to master the ship he was giving up. And this note, too, had in it the suggestion of a wilderness cat, not only in the step but in the body's posture. The merchant captain who had won through hostile fleets with his goods, and beaten off attacking vessels of war, was in the steady, cold, green eyes; the red edges of the cutlass-stroke down his face spoke like lips of the deadly fighter who closed instantly with his foes; his manner was the still top of a vast depth of resolution, lashed up only on occasions. And Anthony looked at him; away at the back of his mind odd thoughts were forming. All three vessels now dressed their idle sails to the wind; the brig followed the schooner and ship. Corkery, having had news of Weir's presence, paced the schooner's deck contentedly. And mademoiselle was glad the captain was to remain on board the ship. For they had been so short-handed. Anthony and two men were not enough to handle that great vessel, for all her meager spread of sail; and the ship must get home safely. She must! for she carried the means of slackening the law's processes and easing many hatreds. The captain smiled when she said this. Anthony would have managed very well; there were few that would have ventured, as he had ventured, into that lonely sea, so feared and cursed by sailors, and whose place in the world's waters was so vague that no two charts gave it the same position. Oh, yes; Anthony was a man to carry a thing through when once he had begun it; and the captain's eyes were very cold and very steady, indeed, as they fastened upon the young man on the forward deck, adding his weight to a seaman's, hauling away on a line. And mademoiselle found herself looking at those eyes, so like hard, green agates; and she felt something like fear creep upon her. They had breakfast. During its course, Tom Horn said never a word; indeed, he had not spoken since Weir had come into the ship; he ate and stared and listened, and sometimes he sat quite still, his eyes on the captain, and a queer down-drawn twitch to his lip. Weir gave them what news he had of the port; and Anthony laid out the ship's papers for him to see. "Excellent traffic!" said the captain, over the items of cargo. He sipped his small glass of brandy. "Oh, excellent! Your uncle knew the East; he seemed to feel the levels where the rich things lay. It was a kind of genius with him. Here we have a shipful of value such as no other merchant could have collected." He finished the brandy. "And all in good condition, you say?" Anthony had the hatches off after breakfast; and Captain Weir saw the merchandise for himself. He came out of the hold and dusted his fingers and clothes with a kerchief. "It could not be snugger nor better," he said. He looked at mademoiselle. "Yes, we must get her safe, supercargo; no chance must take her from us now."