y.

Just then Jake entered with Mr. Darling's toddy. He set it at the young
sailor's elbow, hoped it was entirely to his taste, and retired. Darling
sipped the toddy, puffed twice at his pipe, then fixed his keen glance
upon Lynch's face.

"Don't lie to me," he said. "Your mug is too ugly to forget easy! You
are the big, cussing pirate the savages gave the name of skipper to,
along on that devilish coast to the south where we lost the _Durham
Castle_. You are a sly fellow, and a daring one; but it will not help
you a mite to sit there and talk about your happy home in Harbor Grace
to me."

"The skipper!" exclaimed Dick Lynch, in genuine anger and dismay.
"Saints presarve ye, I'd as soon be took for the divil himself as for
Black Dennis Nolan o' Chance Along. No, sir, I bain't that tyrant,
though some folks do say as how I bes about his size and color."

"Is that so?" enquired Mr. Darling, quietly. "You are not the skipper of
Chance Along, but you look like him. Is that the way of it?"

"Aye, that bes the way of it, sir."

"You know this skipper fellow, then?"

"Aye, sir, to me cost--may the divil fly away wid him! Hasn't he bullied
me an' cheated me all me life long, the divil-possessed tyrant! Bain't
he the livin' curse o' Chance Along?"

"Chance Along, is it?" murmured Mr. Darling. "Now where the devil is
Chance Along?"

Then, raising his voice, "You don't seem to love this skipper
fellow--this Black Dennis Nolan. What is the trouble between the pair of
you?"

Dick finished his rum, eyed the other suspiciously, then stared sullenly
at the fire.

Mr. Darling smiled grimly and shouted for Jake.

"My friend will have more of the same," he said, pointing to Lynch's
empty glass. "But make it hot, Jake. This is no kind of weather for cold
liquor. Better bring the bottle right along, and the kettle and sugar
too."

Twenty minutes later Dick Lynch began to talk again, his belated caution
entirely vaporized and blown out of his somewhat inferior brain by the
fumes of hot rum, lemon and sugar.

"I knows ye, sir," he said. "Sure, didn't I know ye the minute I clapped
me two eyes on ye. Cap'n o' that big ship that come ashore in Nolan's
Cove, t'ree miles to the south o' Chance Along, ye be. An' a smart
landin' ye made, too, boat by boat, wid every mother's son o' ye wid a
gun an' a sword in his two hands. Sure, sir, ye wasn't lookin' for to
meet wid no man-killin' wrakers on _that_ coast, was ye? Saints forgive