As he spoke Mr. Conyngham hurriedly rose and, opening the door, gave a seaman’s hail, followed by a wave of the hand. The inrush of fresh air caused all the men seated about the room to turn suddenly, and they were just in time to see the entrance of a short but well-knit figure dressed in a sailor’s greatcoat, from under which appeared a pair of heavy sea boots. He threw a shower of water from his sleeves and his hat as he grasped his cousin’s hand. “Homeward bound!” he cried. “But any port out of the storm.” “Well, then, come in and cast anchor beside the table here. Off with your wet things and be comfortable. You know our friend, Mr. Nesbit.” “I knew your father and all your family,” spoke the elder man who had been addressed, rather ponderously. “By the powers, you know half the County of Donegal, then, and more than I do,” laughed the sailor, with a touch of a rich rolling brogue. “But years ago,” he added, “I met you, sir, when I was with Captain Henderson, who was in the Antigua trade. I was but a slip of a lad then, and no doubt you have forgotten me.” “No,” responded Mr. Nesbit, “I have a good memory, and, what is more to the point, I remember what Captain Henderson said of you.” “It was his only fault,” returned the sailor, shaking his head, “the loose tongue he had! But perhaps he spoke in the heat of anger, and might think better of it.” “Oh, it was nothing to be ashamed of,” replied Mr. Nesbit, laughing in his turn. “Oh, an amiable enough man at times; perhaps I wronged him then. He was always a great palaverer.” The young captain had seated himself by this time, and after the last speech he turned and looked about the room. His glance fell for a moment upon the two men, Lester and Flackman, who had been referred to by Mr. Nesbit in his conversation a few minutes previously. He half nodded toward them, and the action called his cousin’s attention. “So, Captain Gustavus, you know our friend Lester,” said David quickly. “Just well enough to keep an eye on him,” was the rejoinder. “I saw him talking with the mate of that old Dutch Indiaman that lies astern of the Charming Peggy. I judged from the way he was talking that she was the subject of conversation, so I hove to and asked them a few silent questions.” “What did you do that for?” asked David Conyngham. “Silent questions!” “Sure, to find out how little they know,” answered the captain roguishly. “It is as good to know how little a man knows as how much, sometimes.” “And what was that little?” asked Mr. Nesbit. “That he knows who bought her in Baltimore,” was the reply. “Did he say so?”