encies that justify us to ourselves, by endeavoring to
believe that the subject of any act of our oppression at least merits
the infliction.

"Do you dare to deny what this young gentleman has just said, sirrah?"
demanded the captain. "I now remember you myself; you are Bolt, the
foretop-man, that ran at Plymouth."

"You'd a-run, too, Captain Cuffe, had you been in my place, had the ship
been at Jericho."

"Enough--no impudence, sir. Send for the master-at-arms, Mr. Griffin,
and have the fellow ironed: to-morrow we'll look into the affair."

These orders were obeyed, and Ithuel was removed to the place where the
master-at-arms usually reigns on board ship. Cuffe now gave the
lieutenant his conge, and then withdrew to the inner-cabin, to prepare a
despatch for the rear-admiral. He was near an hour writing a letter to
his mind, but finally succeeded. Its purport was as follows: He reported
the capture of Raoul, explaining the mode and the circumstances under
which that celebrated privateersman had fallen into his hands. He then
asked for instructions as to the manner in which he was to dispose of
his prisoner. Having communicated this important fact, he ventured some
suggestions as to the probable vicinity of the lugger, and the hopes he
entertained of being able to find out her precise situation, through the
agency of Bolt, whose condition he also explained, hinting at the same
time the expediency of bringing both delinquents to as speedy trials as
possible, as the most certain manner of using their apprehensions in
seizing le Feu-Follet. The letter concluded with an earnest request that
another frigate, which was mentioned, her captain being junior to Cuffe,
and a fast-sailing sloop that was lying off Naples might be sent down to
assist him in "heading off" the lugger, as he feared the latter was too
swift to be overtaken by the Proserpine alone, more especially in the
light winds which prevailed.

When this letter was written, addressed, and sealed, Cuffe went on deck
again. It was now nine o'clock, or two bells, and Winchester had the
quarter-deck nearly to himself. All was as tranquil and calm on the deck
of that fine frigate as a moonlight night, a drowsy watch, a light wind,
and smooth water could render things in a bay like that of Naples.
Gleamings of fire were occasionally seen over Vesuvius, but things in
that direction looked misty and mysterious, though Capri loomed up, dark
and grand, a few miles to lee