"Bring here the light!" exclaimed the commander, hastily.

When the lantern was extended towards the pilot, and the glare fell
strong on his features, Captain Munson started, as he beheld the calm
blue eye that met his gaze, and the composed but pallid countenance of
the other. Involuntarily raising his hat, and baring his silver locks,
the veteran cried:

"It is he! though so changed----"

"That his enemies did not know him," interrupted the pilot, quickly;
then touching the other by the arm as he led him aside, he continued, in
a lower tone, "neither must his friends, until the proper hour shall
arrive."

Griffith had fallen back to answer the eager questions of his messmates,
and no part of this short dialogue was overheard by the officers, though
it was soon perceived that their commander had discovered his error, and
was satisfied that the proper man had been brought on board his vessel.
For many minutes the two continued to pace a part of the quarter-deck,
by themselves, engaged in deep and earnest discourse.

As Griffith had but little to communicate, the curiosity of his
listeners was soon appeased, and all eyes were directed toward that
mysterious guide, who was to conduct them from a situation already
surrounded by perils, which each moment not only magnified in
appearance, but increased in reality.