Though it must be very evident, from what-preceded this open avowal, that Wilder was not ignorant of the character of the ship on board of which he had just ventured, yet did he not receive the acknowledgment without embarrassment. The reputation of this renowned freebooter, his daring, his acts of liberality and licentiousness so frequently blended, and his desperate disregard of life on all occasions, were probably crowding together in the recollection of our more youthful adventurer, and caused him to feel that species of responsible hesitation to which we are all more or less subject on the occurrence of important events, be they ever so much expected.
“You have not mistaken my purpose, or my suspicions,” he at length answered, “for I own have come in search of this very ship. I accept the service; and, from this moment, you will rate me in whatever station you may think me best able to discharge my duty with credit.”
“You are next to myself. In the morning, the same shall be proclaimed on the quarter-deck; and, in the event of my death, unless I am deceived in my man, you will prove my successor. This may strike you as sudden confidence. It is so, in part, I must acknowledge; but our shipping lists cannot be opened, like those of the King, by beat of drum in the streets of the metropolis; and, then, am I no judge of the human heart, if my frank reliance on your faith does not, in itself, strengthen your good feelings in my favour.”
“It does!” exclaimed Wilder, with sudden and deep emphasis.
The Rover smiled calmly, as he continued,—
“Young gentlemen of your years are apt to carry no small portion of their hearts in their hands. But, notwithstanding this seeming sympathy, in order that you may have sufficient respect for the discretion of your leader, it is necessary that I should say we have met before. I was apprised of your intention to seek me out, and to offer to join me.”
“It is impossible!” cried Wilder, “No human being—”
“Can ever be certain his secrets are safe,” interrupted the other, “when he carries a face as ingenuous as your own. It is but four-and-twenty hours since you were in the good town of Boston.”
“I admit that much; but—”
“You will soon admit the rest. You were too curious in your inquiries of the dolt who declares he was robbed by us of his provisions and sails. The false-tongued villain! It may be well for him to keep from my path, or he may get a lesson that shall prick his honesty. Does he think such pitiful game as he would induce me to spread a single inch of canvas, or even to lower a boat into the sea!”