“Indeed he did. He used to say, that roads-instead were never as good, for such purposes, as land that's locked havens, for the anchors would return home, as he called it, in roads-instead.” “Yes, ma'am,” answered Wallace, looking very queer at first, as if disposed to laugh outright, then catching a glance of Rose, and changing his mind; “I perceive that Mr. Budd knew what he was about, and preferred an anchorage where he was well land-locked, and where there was no danger of his anchors coming home, as so often happens in your open roadsteads.” “Yes, that's just it! That was just his notion! You cannot feel how delightful it is, Rose, to converse with one that thoroughly understands such subjects! My poor Mr. Budd did, indeed, denounce roads-instead, at all times calling them 'savage.'” “Savage, aunt,” put in Rose, hoping to stop the good relict by her own interposition--“that is a strange word to apply to an anchorage!” “Not at all, young lady,” said Wallace gravely. “They are often wild berths, and wild berths are not essentially different from wild beasts. Each is savage, as a matter of course.” “I knew I was right!” exclaimed the widow. “Savage cast-anchors come of wild births, as do savage Indians. Oh! the language of the ocean, as my poor Mr. Budd used to say, is eloquence tempered by common sense!” Wallace stared again, but his attention was called to other things, just at that moment. The appearance of Don Juan Montefalderon y Castro on deck, reminded him of his duty, and approaching that gentleman he condoled with him on the grave loss he had sustained. After a few civil expressions on both sides, Wallace made a delicate allusion to the character of the schooner. “Under other circumstances,” he said, “it might be my duty to inquire a little particularly as to the nationality of your vessel, Se¤or, for we are at war with the Mexicans, as you doubtless know.” “Certainly,” answered Don Juan, with an unmoved air and great politeness of manner, “though it would be out of my power to satisfy you. Everything was lost in the schooner, and I have not a paper of any sort to show you. If it be your pleasure to make a prize of a vessel in this situation, certainly it is in your power to do it. A few barrels of wet flour are scarce worth disputing about.”