'And they are serious difficulties, Mr. Rutherford. The probabilities, indeed, would be very much against these men, and the public generally might be convinced that they had committed the nefarious crime; yet after all, a jury sworn to judge according to the evidence brought before them, might not be able to convict them.' The Commodore was suddenly interrupted by the entrance of Peter in a state of excitement really alarming; he did not pause as usual at the threshold, and making a low reverence, present his packet of letters and papers, with 'the mail, your honor,' but he bolted straight into the office, crutches and all, threw his hat down on the floor, took his quid from his mouth, and had liked to have dashed that down too; but his senses came to him in season to prevent such an enormity, so he put it back again as quick as possible. He was very much out of breath, and his eyes flashed with a vividness very unusual. The Commodore put his box away, and straightening himself up, looked at Peter with great astonishment, to say the least of it. 'She's come, your honor.' Peter had great difficulty to get the sentence out, his voice trembled so. 'What has come, sir?' The Commodore had evidently departed from his usual temper towards Peter. 'She's come, your honor, spite of blockaders, harricanes and all, God be praised.' The Commodore began to catch a glimpse of his meaning. 'You do not pretend to say that the ship has come, the--the--Lady Washington?' and the Commodore started to his feet, and looked very fiercely at Peter. 'It's the truth, your honor, she's riding in the outer harbor: the very same we see'd this morning. A boat has just come ashore, your honor, and I've see'd the men, and sich doins as they tell on you never heered, sir. Captain Sam's blowed the enemy, and he's got twenty on 'em prisoners, and he's give 'em leg bail, and has run into port, God bless him, with that north-easter behind him.' After delivering himself, Peter turned round, and in two jumps was out of the room, and stumping it off at a round rate. The Commodore was somewhat surprised at this last movement, and stepping to the door, was in the act of recalling his excited valet, when he saw him, in a very animated manner, urging along a person dressed in sailor's garb, and whom the experienced eye of the old Commodore immediately recognized as fresh from on board ship; his rolling, unsteady gait showed very clearly that he had not yet got his land legs on. 'Here's a shipmate, your honor,' said Peter, stepping a little in front of his companion, 'that has a word to say to your honor, but he feels backward like.' 'Come in, my boy, come in; are you from the Lady Washington?' 'Just from aboard, sir.'