composed in my mind a chapter of a thrilling romance. "Suddenly down
one of the glassy channels between the mangroves we saw the pirate
felucca approaching us rapidly. She had got out her sweeps and looked
like some gigantic water-insect as she made her way towards us,
churning the sleeping waters into foam. At her tiller stood a tall
form, which I recognised with a shudder as that of the villainous
mulatto Pedro, and her black flag drooped limply in the stagnant air.
Our gallant captain at once ordered our carronades to be loaded with
canister, and then addressed the crew. 'Yonder gang of dastardly
miscreants think to capture us, my lads,' cried Captain Trueman, 'but
little they know the material they have to deal with. Even the boys,
Bob and Jim, young as they are, will show them the sort of stuff a
British tar is made of, if I am not mistaken.' On hearing our gallant
captain's noble words, Jim and I exchanged a silent hand-grip, and
Jim, snatching up a matchlock, levelled it at the head of the mulatto
Pedro, but at that very moment," etc., etc., etc., though I much fear
that the remainder of _Bob, the Boy Buccaneer of the Bahamas_ will
remain unwritten.

Our surroundings suggested the same idea to Joss, but were prompting
the Guardsman to more direct action. From one or two of his remarks I
had foreseen the possibility of his making an incredible suggestion to
me, and gradually suspicion ripened into horrified certainty.

"Would you very much mind--" he began, "at least if you are not too
old--I should so like--we shall never get another opportunity like
this--would you very much mind--" and out it came, "playing at pirates
for a little while?"

It was unthinkable! The Guardsman was actually proposing to a staid,