“Captain Blunt, are you much acquainted in these latitudes?”
“Oh yes, sir, me and my old brig are regular traders here, from Bordeaux to Jamaica, and so home to England.”
“No treasure, I presume?” went on the officer, with a smile.
“Why, lieutenant, none to speak of, p’raps; just a handful of dollars and a guinea or two in the bag for a few sacks of sugar or coffee, or a pipe of rum, or sich like, on my own account.”
“Well, my friend, there is probably nothing to fear, but if the 20 breeze springs up, keep as close to the corvette as you can, and I shall ask the captain to keep a look-out for you during the night.”
“By the way”––the officer continued in a low tone as he moved toward the gangway––“in case any thing should happen, you had better hoist a lantern at your peak or in the main-rigging––we have sharp eyes for ugly customers, and one or two of them have been particularly troublesome of late hereabouts.”
Turning for a moment to bid adieu to the fair lady passenger on the quarter-deck, and recovering his sword after a playful struggle with the youngster, he buckled it around his waist, and, stepping lightly over the side and into the boat, the oars fell with a single splash, and the cutter shot rapidly away toward the corvette.