The conversation was taking on altogether too gloomy a turn, more especially since we knew beyond a peradventure that before many days the frigate would be in action, and I put an end to it by proposing that one or the other of us go on deck for a whiff of fresh air. Phil took advantage of the opportunity; Master Hackett followed him up the ladder, and I was left with only my gloomy thoughts for company, unless one counts the prisoner, as perhaps would be correct, since on this occasion he took it upon himself to be unusually friendly. "I'm not counting on saying what your chances will be when the _Essex_ meets the _Phoebe_" he began. "Your people may get the best of her--" "As we surely will!" I replied angrily, for I did not like the tone of doubt which accompanied the words. "Very well, say that you whip her handsomely. Do you think it can be done without sacrificing some of your men?" "Of course we must expect that more than one poor fellow will lose the number of his mess." "The _Phoebe_ isn't the only ship that's likely been sent out against you; and even though you whip the first two or three you come across, the time must arrive when you'll be too short-handed to work the frigate. In other words, no matter how successful your ship may be, you're bound to come to grief finally." It was some such thought as this which was in my own mind, and it angered me that the Britisher should put it into words, for I did not relish being reminded of what appeared to be a fact. "Why should you figure on our meeting vessel after vessel until we no longer have a crew left?" I asked sharply. "Because it proves that in the long run I shall be set free by my countrymen, and then will come the time when I'll have the upper hand once more." "Well?" I asked, failing to grasp his meaning. "Well?" he said with a laugh. "To save your own neck, why not make friends with me now? It isn't to be expected that you could set me ashore; but you might leave the door unlocked by accident, and when the time came that you were in the brig of a British man-of-war, I would do you a good turn." It surprised me so much, this speech of Benson's, that I allowed him to finish, instead of checking the villain as I should have done when it first dawned upon me that he was proposing I play the traitor. "Look you, Oliver Benson!" I cried, speaking slowly that the words would have more weight. "If I knew beyond a peradventure that I might save my own life by doing the wicked thing you propose, I would say 'no' with my last breath. If you so much as hint at such a proposition again I will go straight to the captain with the story, and then you may be certain he'll give you a taste of the cat." "My turn will come before the _Essex_ is out of this scrape, and of that there is no doubt," he replied venomously; and I questioned not but that he would wreak vengeance upon Phil and me whenever the opportunity presented itself.