It was indeed a strange story that Roger told, and I thought that I read incredulity in the old man's eyes; but he did not interrupt the narrative from beginning to end. When it was done, he spread his great hands on the table and shot question after question, first at one of us, then at the other, indicating by his glance which he wished to answer him. "When first did you suspect Falk?--What proof had you?--Did Captain Whidden know anything from the start?--How do you know that Falk was laying for Mr. Thomas?--Do you know the penalty for mutiny?--Do you know the penalty for piracy?--Hand out your receipts for all money paid over at Canton.--Who in thunder gave you command of my ship?--Do you appreciate the seriousness of overthrowing the lawful captain?--How in thunder did you force that paper out of Johnston?" His vehemence and anger seemed to grow as he went on, and for twenty minutes he snapped out his questions till it seemed as if we were facing a running fire of musketry. His square, smooth-shaven chin was thrust out between his bushy side-whiskers, and his eyes shot fiercely, first at Roger, then at me. A small swinging lantern lighted the scene. Its rays made the corners seem dark and remote. They fell on the rough features of the old merchant mariner who owned the ship and who so largely controlled our fortunes, making him seem more irascible than ever, and faded out in the early morning light that came in through the deadlights. At last he placed his hands each on the opposite shoulder, planted his elbows on the table, and fiercely glared at us while he demanded, "Have you two young men stopped yet to think how it'll seem to be hanged?" The lantern swung slowly during the silence that followed. The shadows swayed haltingly from side to side. "No," cried Roger hotly, "we have not, Captain Webster. We've been too busy looking after _your_ interests." The scar where the case-knife had slashed his cheek so long ago stood starkly out from the dull red of his face. At that the old man threw back his head and burst into a great guffaw of laughter. He laughed until the lantern trembled, until his chair leaned so far back that I feared he was about to fall,--or hoped he was,--until it seemed as if the echoes must come booming back from the farthest shore. "Lads, lads!" he cried, "you're good lads. You're the delight of an old man's heart! You've done fine! Roger Hamlin, I've a new ship to be finished this summer. You shall be master, if you'll be so kind, for an old man that wishes you well, and"--here he slyly winked at me--"on the day you take a wife, there'll come to your bride a kiss and a thousand dollars in gold from Thomas Webster. As for Ben, here, he's done fine as supercargo of the old Island Princess,--them are good accounts, boy,--and I'll recommend he sails in the new ship with you."