the last forty years has so deeply implanted in the bosom of every
American sailor, in cases connected with English naval officers, and who
had just made up his mind to let Robert Davis take his chance, and to
crack a bottle with the handsome young man who was still standing up in
the boat. But Mr. Truck had been too often to London not to understand
exactly the manner in which Englishmen appreciate American character; and,
among other things, he knew it was the general opinion in the island that
money could do any thing with Jonathan; or, as Christophe is said once to
have sententiously expressed the same sentiment, "if there were a bag of
coffee in h---, a Yankee could be found to go and bring it out."

The master of the Montauk had a proper relish for his lawful gains as well
as another, but he was vain-glorious on the subject of his countrymen,
principally because he found that the packets outsailed all other
merchant-ships, and fiercely proud of any quality that others were
disposed to deny them.

At hearing this proposal, or intimation, therefore, instead of accepting
it, Captain Truck raised his hat with formal civility, and coolly wished
the other "good night." This was bringing the affair to a crisis at once;
for the helm of the cutter was borne up, and an attempt was made to run
the boat alongside of the ship. But the breeze had been steadily
increasing, the air had grown heavier as the night advanced, and the
dampness of evening was thickening the canvas of the coarser sails in a
way sensibly to increase the speed of the ship. When the conversation
commenced, the boat was abreast of the fore-rigging; and by the time it
ended, it was barely up with the mizzen. The lieutenant was quick to see
the disadvantage he laboured under, and he called out "Heave!" as he found
the cutter was falling close under the counter of the ship, and would be
in her wake in another minute. The bowman of the boat cast a light grapnel