Percy could not prevent them from being grateful, nor could he entirely hush their loud and boisterous acclaims; the most he could do was to persuade them to cut it as short as possible and, soon as he could find opportunity, to get away into the cabin with Donald Rodney. Next to his father, old Donald had been the one man of the old crew whom Percy had loved and esteemed. He could not remember the time when he had not loved “Uncle Rodney” as he had called him in his boyhood. The first crew organized by Hugh Maitland had acknowledged Donald Rodney as second in command, and from that time he had followed the career then commenced. And the youth still retained his love for the dear old friend of his boyhood: and, further, he had accepted a great many favors from the old man’s hand. Thus loving, and thus respecting, the veteran, our hero had determined to hold with him a serious conversation. He was bound, if possible, to know the present character of the brig; together with something more of the character of the man who now commanded her. Rodney, as soon as his young friend had taken a seat, produced a bottle, and two glasses. “Only one bottle, my dear boy; for I know its the wine you’ll like. Just taste it, and say if you ever tasted finer.” Percy filled a glass and sipped a little of it, and the old man had not exaggerated. He had certainly never tasted a finer wine, and he said so. He drank the contents of his glass slowly, and then leaned back in his chair. He saw very plainly that the old man was nervous and uneasy--that he would rather have been almost anywhere else than in that cabin with the son of his old commander looking him in the eye. But the youth intended to deal gently with him, though squarely. “Donald, I have called you down here because I have a few questions to ask--questions which I hope and trust you will answer. But, first, let me give you my solemn promise that anything you may say to me--any information you may give me--shall be held sacred and secret in my own bosom. I will never use information from your lips to the injury of any living being. Surely that ought to lead you to trust me.” “Heave ahead, Percy!” the smuggler replied, frankly. Presently he added with a smile, but not a happy one, “I can imagine pretty nearly what ye want, and I tell ye, fair and honest, if ye lay too close I shall sheer off.” “All right, old friend. Take your own course. In the first place, will you tell me what your present cargo consists of? Remember, I have this day saved it--saved not only the cargo and brig, but every man on board. Where would you be at this moment, Rodney, but for me?” “Either shot, or in irons on board a king’s ship,” answered the old man promptly. “When I boarded the brig this morning,” pursued Percy, “her main-hatch was off.” “Yes, I’d ordered it off, thinkin’ we might have to throw overboard some of the cargo; and some of it would have gone if the captain’s men hadn’t stuck out so against it.”