f the likeliest
looking men, seven of them lean, lantern-jawed Yankees and three French
creoles. In answer to the protests of the first that they were New
Englanders, he snapped out the one word "Hull"--to the creoles,
"Guernsey."

"Good God!" I cried to Captain Lafitte, who stood by, gnawing his
mustache in silent fury. "You know these are native-born citizens of the
United States. Can you submit to such an outrage?"

Far better had I held my peace! Instantly the middy demanded of the
nearest of our men who I was. The fellow, a stupid mulatto, mumbled
something about my being the third mate.

"So!" snapped the Englishman. "Third mate? It is well known that all
Yankee ships are officered by British deserters. I'll take this
loud-mouthed sea-lawyer."

"Not alive!" I rejoined. "I'm a free-born citizen of the Republic. I'll
not submit, you lying young scoundrel!--Captain Lafitte!--shipmates!
Show these bullies we can die like men!"

My appeal was in vain. Lafitte still stood silent, and the men turned to
stare shamefaced at the guns of the frigate. I stepped back to catch up
a marlin-spike, but the British crimps were too well trained in their
despicable business. They sprang at and about me in a body. I struck out
right and left; then a belaying-pin crashed upon my head with stunning
force.

When I recovered consciousness, I found myself swinging in a sailor's
hammock that was suspended from the beams of a low wooden ceiling. I
felt strangely weak and faint, but made shift to turn my head enough to
see that I was in a long, wide space between decks. The rows of cannon
resting each before its open port roused in me a sort of dull, vague
wonderment. A puff of salt sea air through the nearest port tempered the
suffocating heat of the place and revived me to a clearer
self-consciousness, though all my memory seemed, as it were, wrapped in
a gray mist.

The first clear idea was that there was about my neck something precious
which must not be lost. I fumbled about with a feeble hand, and drew out
the rosary and cross from the open bosom of my shirt. I was gazing at
this, still bewildered, when there came to my side a dried-up, kindly
faced, bespectacled little gentleman who, at sight of my open eyes,
nodded and chirruped almost gayly: "Ahoy, Jack! Pleased to see your
wits out of limbo! You've had a narrow squeak of it, my man."

"Who are you? Where am I?" I murmured.

He took a pinch of snuff, sneezed with hearty e