sing to place them on board some
fishing-smack, not too far out. Silva had not agreed to this, and it
had led to something like a mutiny on the part of the crew. It was
owing to this, doubtless, that they were captured. De Soto, it was
known, was a married man; moreover, he was new in command, and not
used to pirate ways.

However, this conduct was deemed courteous by the administration at
Washington, and, feminine influence being always potent with Andrew
Jackson, De Soto's sentence was commuted to imprisonment for life;
and shortly after, being taken to a quiet little country prison, he
made interest with the jailer and escaped. It was reported that he
shipped upon an African trader; and, going down the harbor past the
figure of Manuel Silva elegantly outlined against the sky, he bowed
sardonically to the swaying _schema_ of his ancient messmate. It
excited some little comment on the African trader at the time; but the
usual professional _esprit de corps_ keeps sailors from asking too
many questions about the intimate professional conduct of their
messmates in earlier voyages.

But that is why De Soto made no draft upon the credit side of his
account at the Old Colony Bank; and James Bowdoin's Sons continued to
carry the deposit on their books "for the benefit of whom it may
concern." And so McMurtagh, who had taken little Mercedes Silva home
that day, continued to make a home for her there, his old mother and
his father aiding and abetting him in the task; and he carried her
young life, in addition to his other burdens, "for the benefit of whom
it may concern."

"Whom it may concern" is too old a story, in such cases, ever to be
thought of by the actors in them.

VI.

James McMurtagh was one of that vast majority of men who live,
function, work, in their appointed way, and are never heard from, like
a good digestion. This is the grand division which separates them from
those who, be it for good or evil, or weakness even, will be
protagonists. Countless multitudes of such men as Jamie must there be,
to hold the fabric together and make possible the daring spins of you,
my lords Lovelace, and you, Launcelots and Tristrams, and Miss Vivien
here; who weave your paradoxical cross-purposes of tinsel evil in the
sober woof of good.

No one knew, or if he knew remembered, what was Jamie's age. When he
was first taken in by the house, he described himself as a "lad;" but
others had not so described him, or el