nish that was more fluent
than elegant or precise--his name was Peleg Scudder. He was master of
the schooner GENERAL COURT, of the port of Salem in Massachusetts, on
a trading voyage to the South Seas, but now driven by stress of weather
into the bay of San Carlos. He begged permission to ride out the gale
under the headlands of the blessed Trinity, and no more. Water he
did not need, having taken in a supply at Bodega. He knew the strict
surveillance of the Spanish port regulations in regard to foreign
vessels, and would do nothing against the severe discipline and good
order of the settlement. There was a slight tinge of sarcasm in his tone
as he glanced toward the desolate parade ground of the Presidio and the
open unguarded gate. The fact was that the sentry, Felipe Gomez, had
discreetly retired to shelter at the beginning of the storm, and was
then sound asleep in the corridor.

The Commander hesitated. The port regulations were severe, but he was
accustomed to exercise individual authority, and beyond an old order
issued ten years before, regarding the American ship COLUMBIA, there
was no precedent to guide him. The storm was severe, and a sentiment of
humanity urged him to grant the stranger's request. It is but just to
the Commander to say that his inability to enforce a refusal did not
weigh with his decision. He would have denied with equal disregard of
consequences that right to a seventy-four-gun ship which he now yielded
so gracefully to this Yankee trading schooner. He stipulated only
that there should be no communication between the ship and shore. "For
yourself, Senor Captain," he continued, "accept my hospitality. The
fort is yours as long as you shall grace it with your distinguished
presence"; and with old-fashioned courtesy, he made the semblance of
withdrawing from the guardroom.

Master Peleg Scudder smiled as he thought of the half-dismantled fort,
the two moldy brass cannon, cast in Manila a century previous, and the
shiftless garrison. A wild thought of accepting the Commander's offer
literally, conceived in the reckless spirit of a man who never let
slip an offer for trade, for a moment filled his brain, but a timely
reflection of the commercial unimportance of the transaction checked
him. He only took a capacious quid of tobacco as the Commander gravely
drew a settle before the fire, and in honor of his guest untied the
black-silk handkerchief that bound his grizzled brows.

What passed bet