"No, we don't," said the Englishman, contemptuously; "if we did we could
have it. Why, I've only to give the word, and a hundred fellows would
be out in a canoe before you knew where you were. No, my lad, it's
peace; and I'm glad of a chance, though I'm happy enough here, to have a
talk to some one from the old home. Never was in the west country, I
suppose? I'm an Exeter man."

"I've been in Exeter often," said Don eagerly; "we're from Bristol."

The Englishman waded rapidly into the sea, his Maori companion dashing
in on the other side of the boat, and Jem and Don seized their pistols.

"Didn't I tell you it was peace?" said the Englishman, angrily. "I only
wanted to shake hands."

"Ho!" said Jem, suspiciously, as their visitor coolly seated himself on
the gunwale of the boat, his follower taking the opposite side, so as to
preserve the balance.

"Enough to make you think we meant wrong," said the Englishman; "but we
don't. Got any tobacco, mate?"

"Yes," said Jem, producing his bag. "'Tarn't very good. Say, Mas' Don,
if he came to see us in Bristol, we could give him a bit o' real old
Charlestown, spun or leaf."

"Could you, though?" said the man, filling his pipe.

"Yes; my uncle is a large sugar and tobacco merchant," said Don.

"Then how came you to be a sailor boy? I know, you young dog; you ran
away. Well, I did once."

"No, no," said Don, hastily; "we did not ran away; we were pressed."

"Pressed?" said the Englishman, pausing in the act of striking a light
on one of the thwarts of the boat.

"You needn't believe unless you like," said Jem, sourly, "but we were;
dragged off just as if we were--well, never mind what. Feel here."

He bent forward, took the man's hand, and placed it upon the back of his
head.

"That's a pretty good scar, isn't it? Reg'lar ridge."

"Yes; that was an ugly crack, mate."

"Well, that's what I got, and a lot beside. Young Mas' Don here, too,
was awfully knocked about."

"And you stood it?"

"Stood it?" said Don, laughing. "How could we help it?"

"Made you be sailors, eh, whether you would or no?"

"That's it," said Jem.

"Well, you can do as you like," said the man; "but I know what I should
do if they'd served me so."

"Cutoff?" said Jem.

"That's it, mate. I wouldn't ha' minded being a sailor, but not be made
one whether I liked or no."

"You weren't a sailor, were you?" said Don.

"I? No; never mind what I was."

"Then we had better