Dave looked as solemn as an owl, and his ivories seemed to be sealed up in his expansive mouth. He attempted to make a sign to the captain, but it was not understood. At that moment, the stranger raised his finger and beckoned to the steward.
"What is your name, boy?" he asked.
"Dave, sir," replied he, evidently deeply impressed by the visitor for some reason not yet apparent to the captain.
"I don't like to have a man stand behind me, and you will take your place in the rear of Captain Passford, who is more worthy of your attention than I am;" and though Dave was a brave fellow, he obeyed the order.
It was evident enough to Christy that there had been some kind of a scene in the cabin before he came below, for the steward had certainly been intimidated by the powerful visitor.
"This fish seems to be red snapper, captain, and it is very good. Will you allow me to help you to some of it?" continued the stranger very politely.
"Thank you, sir; I will take some of it, if you please," replied Christy, as he passed his plate across the table. "Of course, as you have done me the honor to take a seat at my table, I must be acquainted with you."
"We have met before," replied the stranger. "Shall I help you to some of these fried potatoes? They are very good, and I can recommend them.
I have already learned that you have an excellent cook on board. I should judge from these potatoes that he was brought up in New Orleans."
"It may be he was; I don't know about that. You say that we have met before, but to save my life, I cannot recall the time, and I am sorry to add that I do not identify your face as that of any person I ever saw before. I have the pleasure of introducing myself to you as Lieutenant Christopher Passford, commanding the United States steamer Bronx."