returned the pilot, coldly, "so that he does his duty bravely and in
good faith."

It was perhaps fortunate for the harmony of this dialogue, that the
gloom, which had now increased to positive darkness, completely
concealed the look of scornful irony that crossed the handsome features
of the young sailor, as he replied: "True, true, so that he does his
duty, as you say, in good faith. But, as Barnstable observed, you must
know your road well to travel among these shoals on such a night as
this. Know you what water we draw?"

"'Tis a frigate's draught, and I shall endeavor to keep you in four
fathoms; less than that would be dangerous."

"She's a sweet boat!" said Griffith, "and minds her helm as a marine
watches the eye of his sergeant at a drill; but you must give her room
in stays, for she fore-reaches, as if she would put out the wind's eye."

The pilot attended, with a practised ear, to this description of the
qualities of the ship that he was about to attempt extricating from an
extremely dangerous situation. Not a syllable was lost on him; and when
Griffith had ended, he remarked, with the singular coldness that
pervaded his manner:

"That is both a good and a bad quality in a narrow channel. I fear it
will be the latter to-night, when we shall require to have the ship in
leading-strings."

"I suppose we must feel our way with the lead?" said Griffith.