“Don’t know, captain,” said I. “He is evil-looking enough, to my mind, to be the father of evil, but it’s ill bespeaking attentions from that quarter at any time.” “Go on, lad; I’ll come up after you.” I left the cabin, and I heard the captain coming after me. When I got on deck, I saw he had not moved from the place where I left him. There was a general commotion among the crew when they heard of the occurrence, and all crowded round him, save the man at the wheel, who had to remain at his post. The captain now came forward, and the men fell a little back as he approached. For a moment the captain stood silent, attentively examining the stranger, who was excessively cool, and stood the scrutiny with the same unconcern that he would had the captain been looking at his watch. “Well, my man,” said the captain, “how did you come here?” “I’m part of the cargo,” he said, with an indescribable leer. “Part of the cargo be d——d!” said the captain, in sudden rage, for he thought the stranger was coming his jokes too strong. “I know you are not in the bills of lading.” “I’m contraband,” replied the stranger; “and my uncle’s the great cham of Tartary.” The captain stared, as well he might, and did not speak for some minutes; all the while the stranger kept kicking his heels against the water-casks and squinting up at the skies; it made us feel very queer. “Well, I must confess you are not in the regular way of trading.” “Oh, no,” said the stranger; “I am contraband—entirely contraband.” “And how did you come on board?” At this question the stranger again looked curiously up at the skies, and continued to do so for more than a minute; he then turned his gaze upon the captain. “No, no,” said the captain; “eloquent dumb show won’t do with me; you didn’t come, like Mother Shipton, upon a birch broom. How did you come on board my vessel?” “I walked on board,” said the stranger. “You walked on board; and where did you conceal yourself?” “Below.” “Very good; and why didn’t you stay below altogether?” “Because I wanted fresh air. I’m in a delicate state of health, you see; it doesn’t do to stay in a confined place too long.” “Confound the binnacle!” said the captain; it was his usual oath when anything bothered him, and he could not make it out. “Confound the binnacle!—what a delicate-looking animal you are. I wish you had stayed where you were; your delicacy would have been all the same to me. Delicate, indeed!” “Yes, very,” said the stranger, coolly. There was something so comic in the assertion of his delicateness of health, that we should all have laughed; but we were somewhat scared, and had not the inclination. “How have you lived since you came on board?” inquired the captain. “Very indifferently.” “But how? What have you eaten? and what have you drank?” “Nothing, I assure you. All I did while was below was——” “What?” “Why, I sucked my thumbs like a polar bear in its winter quarters.”