"Mayhap," continued the boatswain, swallowing his words, in the surprise
of seeing himself so unexpectedly confronted by so imposing an eye,
"mayhap this gentleman has some knowledge of the sea, and can decide the
matter in dispute."

"We do not study naval tactics at the universities," returned the other
briskly, "though I will confess, from the little I have heard, I am
altogether in favour of _scudding._"

He pronounced the latter word with an emphasis which rendered it
questionable if he did not mean to pun; the more especially as he threw
down his reckoning and instantly left the field to the quiet possession of
Nightingale. The latter, after a short pause, resumed his narrative,
though, either from weariness or some other cause, it was observed that
his voice was far less positive than before, and that his tale was cut
prematurely short. After completing his narrative and his grog, he
staggered to the beach, whither a boat was shortly after despatched to
convey him on board the ship, which, during all this time, had not ceased
to be the constant subject of the suspicious examination of the good-man
Homespun.

In the mean while, the stranger in green had pursued his walk along the
main street of the town. Fid had given chase to the disconcerted Scipio,
grumbling as he went, and uttering no very delicate remarks on the
knowledge and seamanship of the boatswain. They soon joined company again,
the former changing his attack to the negro, whom he liberally abused, for
abandoning a point which he maintained was as simple, and as true, as
"that yonder bit of a schooner would make more way, going wing-and-wing,
than jammed up on a wind."