sensations, so innocence and guilt, when, through casual
association with mental pain, stamping any visible impress, use one
seal--a hacked one.

Not again that this reflection occurred to Captain Delano at the time,
charitable man as he was. Rather another idea. Because observing so
singular a haggardness combined with a dark eye, averted as in trouble
and shame, and then again recalling Don Benito's confessed ill opinion
of his crew, insensibly he was operated upon by certain general notions
which, while disconnecting pain and abashment from virtue, invariably
link them with vice.

If, indeed, there be any wickedness on board this ship, thought Captain
Delano, be sure that man there has fouled his hand in it, even as now he
fouls it in the pitch. I don't like to accost him. I will speak to this
other, this old Jack here on the windlass.

He advanced to an old Barcelona tar, in ragged red breeches and dirty
night-cap, cheeks trenched and bronzed, whiskers dense as thorn hedges.
Seated between two sleepy-looking Africans, this mariner, like his
younger shipmate, was employed upon some rigging--splicing a cable--the
sleepy-looking blacks performing the inferior function of holding the
outer parts of the ropes for him.

Upon Captain Delano's approach, the man at once hung his head below its
previous level; the one necessary for business. It appeared as if he
desired to be thought absorbed, with more than common fidelity, in his
task. Being addressed, he glanced up, but with what seemed a furtive,
diffident air, which sat strangely enough on his weather-beaten visage,
much as if a grizzly bear, instead of growling and biting, should simper
and cast sheep's eyes. He was asked several questions concerning the
voyage--questions purposely referring to several particulars in Don
Benito's narrative, not previously corroborated by those impulsive cries
greeting the visitor on first coming on board. The questions were
briefly answered, confirming all that remained to be confirmed of the
story. The negroes about the windlass joined in with the old sailor;
but, as they became talkative, he by degrees became mute, and at length
quite glum, seemed morosely unwilling to answer more questions, and yet,
all the while, this ursine air was somehow mixed with his sheepish one.

Despairing of getting into unembarrassed talk with such a centaur,
Captain Delano, after glancing round for a more promising countenance,
but seeing none, spok