“He has merely given the weather gun, the signal of defiance. Let him come down, and he will not find us in a hurry to leave him!” “No, no: as for that, we are snug enough!” returned the master, chuckling as he surveyed the half-naked spars, and the light top-hamper, to which he had himself reduced the ship. “If running is to be our play, we have made a false move at the beginning of the game. These top-sails, spanker, and jib, make a show that says more for bottom than for speed. Well, come what will of this affair, it will leave me a master, though it is beyond the power of the best duke in England to rob me of my share of the honor!” With this consolation for his perfectly hopeless condition as respects promotion, the old seaman walked forward, examining critically into the state of the vessel; while his young commander, having cast a look about him, motioned to his prisoner and the Alderman to follow to the poop. “I do not pretend to inquire into the nature of the tie which unites you with some in this ship,” Ludlow commenced, addressing his words to Seadrift, though he kept his gaze on the recent gift of Alida; “but, that it must be strong, is evident by the interest they have taken in your fate. One who is thus esteemed should set a value on himself. How far you have trifled with the laws, I do not wish to say; but here is an opportunity to redeem some of the public favor. You are a seaman, and need not be told that my ship is not as strongly manned as one could wish her at this moment, and that the services of every Englishman will be welcome. Take charge of these six guns, and depend on my honor that your devotion to the flag shall not go unrequited.” “You much mistake my vocation, noble captain;” returned the dealer in contraband, faintly laughing. “Though one of the seas, I am one more used to the calm latitudes than to these whirlwinds of war. You have visited the brigantine of our mistress, and must have seen that her temple resembles that of Janus more than that of Mars. The deck of the Water-Witch has none of this frowning garniture of artillery.” Ludlow listened in amazement. Surprise, incredulity, and scorn, were each, in turn, expressed in his frowning countenance. “This is unbecoming language for one of your calling,” he said, scarce deeming it necessary to conceal the contempt he felt. “Do you acknowledge fealty to this ensign—are you an Englishman?” “I am such as Heaven was pleased to make me—fitter for the zephyr, than the gale—the jest, than the war-shout—the merry moment, than the angry mood.” “Is this the man whose name for daring has passed into a proverb?—the dauntless, reckless, skilful ‘Skimmer of the Seas!’”