"You know me, then?" "Fifteen years ago I knew a little, curly-haired, black-eyed chap, who used to play about the gardens of a white-walled villa on the banks of the Amazon, and I fancy that you and he are pretty near relations." "You knew me in my childhood; you knew me in the lifetime of my earliest and dearest benefactor." "I did. It was only last night that I came ashore, and the first thing I heard in New Orleans was, that Mr. Paul Lisimon had been arrested for the robbery of his employer, one of the land sharks your genteel folks call lawyers. Now, we seamen are not fond of that breed, so I wasn't sorry to hear that for once a lawyer had been robbed himself, instead of robbing other people, so I asked who this Paul Lisimon was that had been too many guns for his employer, and they told me that he was a young Mexican, who had been brought up by Don Juan Moraquitos. Now, I happen to know a good deal of Don Juan Moraquitos, and I had never heard before of Paul Lisimon; but I had heard of a little curly haired lad that was once a great favorite with Don Tomaso Crivelli, and Don Tomaso had been a good friend to me. So that's why your jailer was bribed, and why you stand a free man in the streets of New Orleans this morning." "My generous friend," exclaimed Paul, "this is all so much a mystery to me that I know not how to thank you for your goodness." "And I tell you that I want no thanks, so let's talk of business. In the first place, what made you so anxious to get to the water just now? I thought there was blood in your veins that never yet ran in those of a coward." "A coward?" "Ay, youngster; the man who has no better resource when he's down in the world than to make away with himself isn't worthy of any other name." "And what right had you to suppose that I contemplated suicide?" "The right of a good sharp pair of eyes, my lad. But come, once more to business. Do you see yonder craft at anchor there, to the right of the harbor?" Paul looked in the direction to which the stranger pointed, and perceived the trim masts of a lightly-built schooner. "I do." "Then you see one of the fastest clippers that ever sailed. No rotten timber, but green oak and locust from stem to stern, with not an inch of canvas that isn't meant for speed. Don't talk to me about your steam vessels; lumbering old Noah's arks, that can't go a good pace without bursting up and sending every soul to tarnation smash. See the Amazon fly before the wind, and then you'll know what fast sailing is. If we Southerners come to handy grips with the North, let the Yankees look out for squalls when the Amazon is afloat on the blue water." "And you, my friend, are you one of her crew?" asked Paul. "I'm her captain, mate, Captain Prendergills--a sailor by profession, a rover by choice, and a privateer for plunder." "A privateer?" "Yes. You don't think the word an ugly one, do you? Now listen to me; you can't go back to Villa Moraquitos, can you?" "No."