himself agreeable and resourceful. Phips himself had sprung from the
lower orders,--the son of a small farmer,--and even in future days when
he rose to a high position in the colonies, gaining knighthood and other
honours, he had the manners and speech of "a man of the people." Bucklaw
understood men: he knew that his only game was that of bluntness. This
was why he boarded Phips in Cheapside without subterfuge or disguise.

Nor had Phips told Bucklaw of Gering's coming; so that when the
Bridgwater Merchant and the Swallow entered Port de la Planta, Bucklaw
himself, as he bore out in a small sail-boat, did not guess that he was
likely to meet a desperate enemy. He had waited patiently, and had
reckoned almost to a day when Phips would arrive. He was alongside
before Phips had called anchor. His cheerful countenance came up between
the frowning guns, his hook-hand ran over the rail, and in a moment he
was on deck facing--Radisson.

He was unprepared for the meeting, but he had taken too many chances
in his lifetime to show astonishment. He and Radisson had fought and
parted; they had been in ugly business together, and they were likely to
be, now that they had met, in ugly business again.

Bucklaw's tiger ran up to stroke his chin with the old grotesque gesture.
"Ha!" he said saucily, "cats and devils have nine lives."

There was the same sparkle in the eye as of old, the same buoyant voice.
For himself, he had no particular quarrel with Radisson; the more so
because he saw a hang-dog sulkiness in Radisson's eye. It was ever his
cue when others were angered to be cool. The worst of his crimes had
been performed with an air of humorous cynicism. He could have great
admiration for an enemy such as Iberville; and he was not a man to fight