"Perfectly civil," replied our captain; "you asked a plain question, and I answered it, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did," said the officer; "but be careful about the rest of your answers. Call all hands, and let me see your crew!"
I believe, from the appearance of our captain's face, that if he had not realized the consequence of such an act, he would have seized the nearest handspike and laid the Britisher flat on the deck. His color came and went, and it seemed to me that for fully a minute he stood perfectly still, and made no reply. At the end of a long pause he nodded to the mate, and said, "Call all hands."
The mate passed the order to Haines, who went to the forecastle gangway, and yelled down into the interior of the ship, "All hands ahoy!" The performance was a useless one, as everybody was on deck at the time, all having become excited over the presence of the British war-ship, and knowing perfectly well there was no way of escaping inspection.
I said everybody was on deck, but in that I was mistaken, though I did not notice it at the moment. One of our sailors had disappeared, but our captain seemed to be as ignorant of the fact as I was, as he told the officer the crew was all before him, and he could look them over.
The men were lined up against the weather rail, and the officer walked slowly along in front of them, scanning each face very closely. When he came to Haines, he asked his name and where he came from.
"My name's Bill Haines," was the answer, "and I come from Salem, in Massachusetts."
"Oh, Salem," said the officer, "Salem; were you born there?"
"Yes, sir; I was born in Salem, and if you've ever been there, and know anything about it, I'll tell you all the streets in the city."