"One of the Yankee pirates, eh?" he said, but despite the import of the words his voice had a fine ring to it, and at one glance into his face I saw here was a man who would stoop to no mean revenge. His light blue eyes were almost kindly were it not for the bent brows above them; his face was extremely handsome and well moulded.
"Are you an officer of that brig?" questioned the tall man, who I now made out must be the Captain of the frigate.
"I am," I replied, drawing myself up, and making a salute with my elbow at right angles and my fingers at my forehead.
With a quick glance at my position the Captain made this statement:
"An officer, eh? But you are no sailor; you may be a soldier, though."
I almost faltered in my reply.
"I am instructor in cutlass drill and small arms," I said.
The Englishman half smiled at this.
"A nautical maitre d'armes?" he asked.
"Oui, monsieur," I returned.