him--a large, stout gentleman with a round red face, and clad in a fine
laced coat of red cloth. Amidship of the boat was a box or chest about
the bigness of a middle-sized traveling trunk, but covered all over
with cakes of sand and dirt. In the act of passing, the gentleman, still
standing, pointed at it with an elegant gold-headed cane which he held
in his hand. "Are you come after this, Abraham Dawling?" says he, and
thereat his countenance broke into as evil, malignant a grin as ever
Barnaby True saw in all of his life.

The other did not immediately reply so much as a single word, but sat
as still as any stone. Then, at last, the other boat having gone by, he
suddenly appeared to regain his wits, for he bawled out after it, "Very
well, Jack Malyoe! very well, Jack Malyoe! you've got ahead of us this
time again, but next time is the third, and then it shall be our turn,
even if William Brand must come back from hell to settle with you."

This he shouted out as the other boat passed farther and farther away,
but to it my fine gentleman made no reply except to burst out into a
great roaring fit of laughter.

There was another man among the armed men in the stern of the passing
boat--a villainous, lean man with lantern jaws, and the top of his head
as bald as the palm of my hand. As the boat went away into the night
with the tide and the headway the oars had given it, he grinned so that
the moonlight shone white on his big teeth. Then, flourishing a great
big pistol, he said, and Barnaby could hear every word he spoke, "Do but
give me the word, Your Honor, and I'll put another bullet through the
son of a sea cook."

But the gentleman said some words to forbid him, and therewith the boat