An outbreak from the band prevented the captain from finishing the sentence. “Ramirez,” said the man whose face was ensconced in hair, “was the best commander that I--and I’m twelve years in the free trade--ever sailed under; ay, or ever will.” “In action, cool as a cucumber,” rejoined a second. “And,” added a third, “in real danger, fierce as a wild cat; and with all his wits about him, too.” “Night nor day, I never saw him disguised in liquor,” observed another, who was so particularly drunk, that he could barely articulate. “You might trust him with uncounted gold--” “And to his ship’s company,” added a sixth, winding up the eulogium, “he was true as needle to the north.” “Well, comrades,” said the captain, moodily, “I’ll allow that Ramirez was a good commander, an able seaman, stout leader, capital hand at a pinch, slept always with his starboard eye open; but he was--” and he paused. “What?” cried a dozen voices. “The falsest villain that ever betrayed a gallant crew!” “No, no, no,” was repeated by a dozen voices. “I’ll give you proof positive. He disappeared; but none of you could tell, or even guess, the wealth he carried with him. None suspected him; for all of you thought him a nonesuch. Well, what was he all along? why, nothing more nor less than a hired spy. He gave the cruisers secret information of all that passed in every port we entered as free traders; and, in return, they never looked after him. Well, he got blown on the coast at last; and, when he could no longer carry on the game, he left the Flambeau to her fate. And how long after he had deserted ship and comrades was it before the British bull-dogs were let loose upon the sweetest schooner that ever swam the sea?” “Ay, ay, captain,” observed a rover, “that’s all well enough; but recollect, that in the time of Captain Ramirez, men never walked the plank; nor did he, like a common ass, make free with English bunting, and put his hand upon the lion’s mane. If a doubtful sail appeared in the gulph, why an English merchantman would run under the Flambeau’s stern for protection; and, there’s no use talking, Captain Ramirez stood so high with every skipper in these seas, that, d----n me, were he sentenced to be hanged, I think they’d hardly get men enough in a whole ship’s company, to man the fall that sent him to the fore-yard. No, no; he never intentionally left the schooner. Poor dear soul!--he was murdered, and that’s my opinion.” A dozen voices answered in a willing affirmative. “Dolts and madmen!” shouted the captain; “he lives! ay, lives! Why stare ye thus, like fools?--Ay, lives in luxury and splendour: the richest planter in the province; the highest among the high; and all bought by what?--falsehood, and deep, deep treachery!” “Impossible!” exclaimed the rovers.