Neither kings nor yet Congresses. Perhaps, had you read Cowper, you would have stopped at home, Mr. Stark?" "It takes two to fight, Mr. Norcot. My kinsman, General Stark--but I'll not prate of that, though this I'll say: 'tis a base and a cowardly deed to deny parole to Commodore Miller and his officers. We handled the frigate _Marblehead_ like honest men; and we had fairly beaten your _Thunderbolt_. She was about to strike when the _Flying Fish_ and the _Squirrel_ hove in sight and bore down. Then she fought on. We ourselves had hardly struck to them before the _Thunderbolt_ sank. These things I learned from the prize crew that brought the _Marblehead_ into Falmouth." "I understand that there were technical reasons why parole was denied to the officers of the _Marblehead_," explained Captain Cottrell. "You may understand, sir," retorted Stark, "but none among us was ever made to do so." Norcot nodded thoughtfully. True to his invariable custom, he set himself the task of making a friend. "You get supplies regularly?" he asked. "He does--and shares 'em with the poorer folks," said Cottrell. "He has great wealth, I believe," he added under his breath. "You want parole, naturally--like any other officer and gentleman. Why not? "'Rash, fruitless war, from wanton glory waged, Is only splendid murder,' as Thomson very truly remarks. Yet even war has its laws." "Most certainly. And Commodore Miller and his officers possess a right to parole. Miller is one of the ablest men in the navy of the United States," declared the young sailor. "Ah--possibly that's where the difficulty lies. However, though I cannot pretend to any considerable interest, yet some I have with one or two very distinguished gentlemen of the British East India Company. It has been my privilege to do them a service. Maybe Peter Norcot will prove the mouse to nibble you lions out of your granite cage. Who can tell? You have my word of honour that I will endeavour to better your lot." At friendship so gratuitous, Cecil Stark found himself much moved. He hurried forward and shook Peter very warmly by the hand. "Thank you, thank you with all my heart and soul; and thank God for sending you," he said. "'Tis not only for myself I speak, but for better men. Miller is not young, and this terrible place is making him old and infirm before his time." "Well, I'll see; and recollect that I'm doing good for evil. My mistress owes you little thanks, Mr. Stark, and I still less. But all's well that ends in Christian charity." "Are you going to marry that lovely young lady?" asked Stark. "That is my happy privilege. What is your fate to mine? You suffer until the end of the war--perhaps not so long. But I--Mistress Grace Malherb has transported me for life! Tut, tut! You do not see the jest? How dense a sailor can be! Well, God be with you, Mr. Stark. May you dance at her wedding."