“And who’s to pay the piper, honest Bob? whose ship’s purser will pay your check now?” continued the publican, showing the old sailor in, however, with a readiness that seemed to contradict the doubt, expressed by his words, of any reward for such extraordinary civility. “Who?” interrupted the other, displaying the money so lately received from Wilder, in such a manner that it might be seen by the few by-standers who remained, as though he would himself furnish a sufficient apology for the distinguished manner in which he was received; “who but this gentleman? I can boast of being backed by the countenance of his Sacred Majesty himself, God bless him!” “God bless him!” echoed several of the loyal lieges; and that too in a place which has since heard such very different cries, and where the words would now excite nearly as much surprise, though far less alarm, than an earthquake. “God bless him!” repeated Joram, opening the door of an inner room, and pointing the way to his customer, “and all that are favored with his countenance! Walk in, old Bob, and you shall soon grapple with half an ox.” Wilder, who had approached the outer door of the tavern as the mob receded, witnessed the retreat of the two worthies into the recesses of the house, and immediately entered the bar-room himself. While deliberating on the manner in which he should arrive at a communication with his new confederate, without attracting too much attention to so odd an association, the landlord returned in person to relieve him. After casting a hasty glance around the apartment, his look settled on our adventurer, whom he approached in a manner half-doubting, half-decided. “What success, sir, in looking for a ship?” he demanded now recognizing, for the first time, the stranger with whom he had before held converse that morning. “More hands than places to employ them?” “I am not sure it will so prove. In my walk on the hill, I met an old seaman, who”—