shingle away over the port bow? As soon as the sound
comes from windward we'll have her on the port tack, and thus we'll
clear Boulder Ledge."

"It sounds fair sailing; but I liken it to going blindly into a trap,"
retorted the captain.

"Haul on the main-sheet! Steady, forward, with the jib!" And the pilot
starboarded his helm.

Again the captain shivered. Who was this, who held death so lightly? His
own gloomy forebodings came upon him with redoubled force. What manner
of pilot was this, to whom night was as day?

"Boy!" he cried shortly, "why are you here?"

"You read my orders."

"Yes; but----"

Again the pilot caused an interruption by shifting helm.

"Who are you?" hoarsely cried the captain.

"Well, sixteen years ago to-night--steady, cap'n!" for the man had
staggered as though from the effect of a mortal blow.

"Avast! Who and what are you?" The captain's voice was deep and
menacing.

"The pilot of Port Creek. I have no other name--at least, it suits me to
forget it."

"What was your father?"

"A mariner."

"His name?"

"Wait!" and the pilot luffed till the sails shook. A peculiar vibration
passed throughout the lugger's timbers, and her way was gently arrested.

"We're aground! You have failed!" cried the captain, and drew a pistol
from his belt.

"Wait!" And again the pilot spoke in cold, disdainful tones. One might
have counted a hundred. It was terrible suspense. The captain's finger
was toying with the trigger of his pistol. The pilot stood immovable,
the disdainful smile deepening upon his lips. "Ease off the main-sheet!"
cried he, as he turned his ear to windward. There came a stronger puff
of wind, a bigger wave rolled up under the lugger's stern, she lifted,
and immediately glided forward--free!

"You lost your reckoning, my lad!" cried the captain.

"A slight error of judgment. The tide has made somewhat less than I
anticipated."

"What is our position?"

"We scraped on the Sandstone Ledge," grimly. "'Twas a close shave--for
me!"

"And did you doubt----"

"No. But put up your pistol and I'll get on with my story--unless you'd
rather not listen."

"No, no! Go on!"

The pilot stood steady at the helm, his eyes fixed on the binnacle, each
movement of the compass-needle a sign for his ready hands to obey. Anon
a concise order to shift a sail fell from his lips, for in spite of his
interrupted conversation with the captain his every action showed a
trained alertness.