That morrow came; and, with it, an entire change, in the scene and character of our tale. The “Dolphin” and the “Dart” were sailing in amity, side by side; the latter again bearing the ensign of England, and the former carrying a naked gaff. The injuries of the gust, and the combat, had so far been repaired, that, to a common eye, each gallant vessel was again prepared, equally to encounter the hazards of the ocean or of warfare. A long, blue, hazy streak, to the north, proclaimed the proximity of the land; and some three or four light coasters of that region, which were sailing nigh, announced how little of hostility existed in the present purposes of the freebooters. What those designs were, however, still remained a secret, buried in the bosom of the Rover alone. Doubt, wonder, and distrust were, each in its turn, to be traced, not only in the features of his captives, but in those of his own crew. Throughout the whole of the long night, which had succeeded the events of the important day just past, he had been seen to pace the poop in brooding silence. The little he had uttered was merely to direct the movements of the vessel; and when any ventured, with other design, to approach his person, a sign, that none there dared to disregard, secured him the solitude he wished. Once or twice, indeed, the boy Roderick was seen hovering at his elbow, but it was as a guardian spirit would be fancied to linger near the object of its care, unobtrusively, and, it might almost be added, invisible. When, however, the sun came burnished and glorious, out of the waters of the east a gun was fired, to bring a coaster to the side of the “Dolphin;” and then it seemed that the curtain was to be raised on the closing scene of the drama. With his crew assembled on the deck beneath, and the principal personages among his captives beside him on the poop, the Rover addressed the former.