“Yes,” said my father, returning his salute. “Whom have I the pleasure of addressing?”
“Lieutenant Melton, His Majesty’s cutter Flying Fish.”
They both saluted again, and old Jonas, who looked curiously yellow, and with his eyes seeming to search the officer’s, drew nearer.
“Look here, Captain Duncan, I have been for some time on the look-out for this man.”
“Well, sir, you have caught him,” said my father coldly.
“Yes, sir, I have, and I have overhauled the lugger, but without success.”
Old Jonas glanced at me and then at my father, who did not speak, only bowed, and the officer went on.
“Now, then, Captain Duncan; you know this man to be a notorious smuggler, do you not?”
“I have heard him called so.”
“And you know it, sir.”