board
of her catches sight of me, the game's up. S'pose we try the lazarette,
if you have such a place. I like fresh air as a rule, but for once in a
while I don't mind bein' squoze; and, as lazarettes go, yours ought to
be nice and roomy."

"You shall have a bottle of Hollands for company," promised Captain
Cornelisz.

So the hatch was pulled up, and down Jacka crept and curled himself up
in the darkness. The Dutchman provisioned him there with a bottle of
strong waters and a bag of biscuits, and--what's more--called down to
him so long as was prudent and kept him informed how the chase was
going.

By this time the lugger--which I needn't tell you was Mr. Zephaniah
Job's pet _Unity_, with Captain Dick Hewitt commanding--was closing down
on the _Van der Werf_, overhauling her hand-over-fist. Down in the
lazarette Jacka had scarcely finished prising the cork out of his bottle
of Hollands when he heard the bang of a gun. This was the lugger's
command to round-to and surrender; and the old boy, who had been vexing
himself with fear that some cruiser might drop in and spoil sport, put
the bottle to his mouth and drank Mr. Job's very good health.

"For I think," says he to himself, with a chuckle, "I can trust Cap'n
Dick Hewitt to put his foot into this little mess just as deep as it
will go."

With that, being heavy after his night's watch, he tied up his chin in
his bandanna handkerchief to keep him from snoring, curled round, and
dropped off to sleep like a babe.

Well, sir, Cap'n Dick Hewitt brought-to his prize, as he reckoned her;
and when he came aboard and sized up the cargo and the _Unity's_ luck,
as he reckoned it, his boastfulness was neither to hold nor to bind.
No such windfall had been picked up for the _Pride of the West_ during
the four years he'd been in the company's service. He scarce stayed to
give a glance at the _Van der Werf's_ papers, though Captain Cornelisz
was ready for him with the wrong set. "I guess," says he, "you'll spare
yourself the trouble to pretend you ain't a Dutchman"; and when the
skipper flung his arms about and began to jabber like a play-actor,
'twas "All right, Mynheer; we'll talk about that at Falmouth.
Look here, boys," he sings out to his boarding party, "we've something
here too good to be let out of sight. My idea is to reach back for
Polperro in company, and let Mr. Job and the shareholders have a view of
her before taking her round to Falmouth. It won't c