You see I was in charge of the brig, and could do as I chose. Yet was it right that I should report the sail to Greaves, and I called to Yan Bol, who stood in the waist, and bade him keep a lookout for a few minutes while I went below. Jimmy came out of the captain’s berth as I entered the cabin. The lad held open the door, and I passed in. “I have come to report a sail right ahead, sir.” He turned his eyes upon me with such a look as you may behold in the gaze of an old man straining after memory. “A sail?” he exclaimed. “Yes, sir.” “Ay, ay.” He smiled strangely, fetched a long, trembling breath, and said: “Suppose she should prove a galleon? We are rich enough, Fielding. Leave her alone--leave her alone.” “She is no galleon. She is a small trader, I reckon, and will be abreast of us and astern while we’re talking about her.” “We have as much as we need,” said he. “Don’t imperil what you’ve got, man. D’ye know, Fielding, I fear my sight’s beginning to fail me. Jimmy gave me the Bible just now. The type’s big and it came and went in a dissolving way like a wriggle of worms in water. I would to God there was a priest aboard. I want to ask some questions.” He closed his eyes, and with them closed repeated, “I want to ask some questions.” I waited, supposing he would look at me. He kept his eyes shut; so, bidding Jimmy, who stood in the door, to have a care of his master, and to keep within reach of his hail, I returned to the deck very heavy in my spirits; for the departure of this man did then seem to me a question of hours instead of days, nay weeks, as I had lately thought, so ill did he look, so darkly and miserably did his manner and speech accentuate the menace of his face. It was not very long before I made out the vessel ahead to be a whaler. I knew _that_ by her heavy davits, crowd of boats and square, sawed-off look when she cocked her stern at us. I showed Dutch colors, scarce doubting as yet but that the stranger would prove a Yankee, for in those days, as now, many American vessels fished in those waters, pursuing their gigantic game into seas where the British flag was rarely flown--that is, over anything in search of grease. But the Dutch flag had not been blowing three minutes from our gaff end when up floated the red flag of England to the mizzen mast head of the stranger.