no further away than Rhode Island, by all accounts. He must have had a
nerve. And what post might _you_ be holding on this all-fired packet?
Darn _me_, but you have females enough on board!" For indeed there were
three poor creatures kneeling now and crooning over the dead captain.
The men had surrendered--they had no arms to fling down--and were
collected in the waist, under guard of a cordon of Yankees. One lay
senseless on deck, and two or three were bleeding from splinter wounds;
for the enemy, her freeboard being lower by a foot or two than the wall
sides of the _Lady Nepean_, had done little execution on deck, whatever
the wounds in our hull might be.

"I beg your pardon, Captain--"

"Seccombe, sir, is my name. Alpheus Q. Seccombe, of the _Manhattan_
schooner."

"Well, then, Captain Seccombe, I am a passenger on board this ship, and
know neither her business here nor why she has behaved in a fashion that
makes me blush for her flag--which, by the way, I have every reason to
abominate."

"O, come now! You're trying it on. It's a yard-arm matter, and I don't
blame you, to be sure. Cap'n sank the mails?"

"There were none to sink, I believe."

He conned me curiously.

"You don't look like a Britisher, either."

"I trust not. I am the Viscount Anne de Keroual de Saint-Yves, escaped
from a British war-prison."

"Lucky for you if you prove it. We'll get to the bottom of this." He
faced about and called, "Who's the first officer of this brig?"

Reuben Colenso was allowed to step forward. Blood from a scalp-wound
had run and caked on his right cheek, but he stepped squarely enough.

"Bring him below," Captain Seccombe commanded. "And you, Mr.
What's-your-name, lead the way. It's one or the other of us will get the
hang of this affair."

He seated himself at the head of the table in the main cabin, and spat
ceremoniously on the floor.

"Now, sir: you are, or were, first officer of this brig?"

The prisoner, standing between his two guards, gripped his stocking cap
nervously. "Will you please to tell me, sir, if my father is killed?"

"Seth, my lad, I want room." One of the guards, a strapping youngster,
stepped and flung open a pane of the stern window. Captain Seccombe spat
out of it with nonchalant dexterity before answering--

"I guess he is. Brig's name?"

"The _Lady Nepean_."

"Mail packet?"

"Yes, sir; leastways--"

"Now, see here, Mister First Officer Colenso junior; it's a shortish
trip b