Nor was it strange that the officer should thus have felt surprised at the appearance of the captain; for he had expected to find some villainous, yellow-blooded sinister-looking cut-throat, deformed, hacked with wounds, and disfigured with gibbet marks. With this picture of a pirate still on his mind, he had pointed out to him a young man who seemed more calculated to pass his life in quiet contemplation and easy enjoyment, than to take part in the arduous and wearing pursuits of the world, much less to hold the position of a robber on the high seas. Besides, notwithstanding the hardy life which he was obliged to lead, the young man still so sedulously cultivated the refined habits in which he had been bred, and had so carefully kept himself below deck, that he neither presented the rough cast of men of rough usage, nor lost, under a tropical sun, the natural paleness of his complexion.
“It is no mistake at all,” exclaimed Willmington, “I know him well; I cannot be deceived. It is he who had me thrown overboard. Yes, he had me thrown overboard in the sea—to be drowned—to be drowned; but providence has now interfered to punish the perpetrator of the outrage committed upon me. And, and,” he added, “you will now suffer for it,” addressing the captain, while he took the precaution of clinging as closely as possible to the officer. For it would appear that even in the presence of the file of marines the recollection of the empty cask made him nervous.
“Nay, nay, good father,” the captain said, with cauterising sarcasm, “the crime of throwing his kind and loving father overboard, would better suit the jargon that fills the mouths of such virtuous gentlemen as you.” ... A pause ensued.
“His father,”—“Are you then this old gentleman’s son?” inquired the officer.
“He can tell you,” answered the captain. “But I await your orders sir; lead me wherever it may be your instructions to do so.”
The officer seemed more undecided than ever. He looked for an instant at James Willmington, who remained silent, and bent his eyes to the ground as they met those of the ingenious gallant young soldier.
“This is a strange and extraordinary business,” he observed, “I am not aware that my commission obliges me to meddle with such apparently disagreeable affairs. However, young gentleman, for such you seem, and I can scarcely believe that you are what this old gentleman represents you to be, I have orders from my commanding officer, and sanction from the local authorities, to arrest you, provided you are the pirate who scours these seas?”
“It is he—it is he;—I am certain of it: he took our ship; he had me thrown overboard,” vociferated James Willmington, scarcely affording the young officer time to complete his sentence, “I tell you, seize him, seize him!”
Disgusted with this uproarious outbreak, and somewhat stung by Willmington’s imperative manner, the officer turned round to him and said, cuttingly—
“Perhaps, sir, you would have me take a rope and hang him at once: you must recollect, sir that I am not bound to regulate my conduct by any peculiar activity which may characterise your feeling against this person.”