To these two men we invite the reader's attention.
One was a swarthy-looking Frenchman from the south, a man of a decent exterior, but with a fierce and restless glance.
He was the sort of man whom you would sooner have as a friend than as an enemy.
A steadfast friend—an implacable foe!
That was what you read in his peculiar physiognomy, in that odd mixture of defiance and fearlessness, those anxious glances, frankness and deceit, the varied expressions of which passed in rapid succession across his countenance.
This man called himself Pierre Lenoir, although he was known in other ports by other names.
Pierre Lenoir was a sort of Jack of all trades.
He had been apprenticed to an engraver, and had shown remarkable aptitude for that profession, but, being of a roving and restless disposition, he ran away from his employer to ship on board a merchant vessel.
After a cruise or two he was wrecked, and narrowly escaped with his life.
Tired of the sea, for awhile he obtained employment with a medallist, where his skill as an engraver stood him in good stead.