Here Captain Brand caught a ray from the one eye of his companion, which he returned with interest; and then laying the letters down on the table with the softest motion in life, he exclaimed, with a sigh,
“Not the best news in the world, as you say, compadre; all those rich goods, and those bags of coffee, and pipes of rum gone to the devil. But these are little accidents in our profession.”
“Como?” said Señor Ignaçio, “our profession?” shaking his fore finger before his paper cigar in a deprecating manner. “Speak for yourself, amigo.”
“Ah! true,” the other went on––“my profession. The freedom of the seas, the toll of the tropics, the right of search, and all that sort of buccaneering pastime, is liable, you know, to the usual risks.”
Here he inclined his head to one side and gave a slight clack to his lips, as if to illustrate in a humorous way a man choking to death with a knotted rope under his ear. “However, we must be more cautious in future and retrieve the past disasters, for there are still on the sea as good barks as ever floated.”
Captain Brand said this as if he were a merchant of large means and strict integrity, and was about to enter into some shrewd commercial speculation.
“Hum!” murmured Señor Ignaçio, while pouring out another little glass of anisette. “Amigo mio! you had better read the papers from Havana before you talk of another cruise.”
“Oh! delighted to read the news––quite refreshing to get a peep at the world after being cooped up here for months! Another French revolution! Bonaparte alive yet! A Patriot war! Nelson and Villeneuve! All interesting.”
Thus glancing rapidly over the prints, pausing at times at a paragraph that arrested his attention, then tossing a paper away and taking up another, till suddenly Captain Brand’s hand shook with passion as he read aloud,