“Yes, I am the pirate,” the captain calmly replied, while he pressed the hand that had grasped his.
“Good heavens! you deceive me—you—you—”
“Mr. Charles,” sounded the voice of the commander, “recollect, sir, you are in the presence of your commanding officer, and that you are speaking to a person who is under arrest.”
The young officer retired a few steps, conscious that, although he was the commander’s son, he was still subject to the rules of discipline.
Deep anxiety for the prisoner, however, was marked on his features, as his eyes wandered impatiently from the captain, whom we shall now call by his proper name, Appadocca—to his father, and from his father to Appadocca again.
The prisoner was now ordered away, and instructions were given to keep him in close custody. The officer in command, the sentinels, and the prisoner proceeded on deck. The young officer was about to follow, when he was requested by his father to stay.
“Do you know this man, Charles?” inquired the commander, when they were alone.
“If I know him, sir? every man who has studied in any university these seven years back, knows Emmanuel Appadocca. I studied mathematics with him in Paris, sir; and, if you remember, you will find I frequently spoke to you about him.”
“Yes: I think, now, I recollect something of the name. But this seems a strange end for such a man as you always represented him to be.”
“Yes; this does seem a very strange end,” replied the young officer, “and I cannot but imagine that there is some error in all this.”