dry as ashes in his throat. She, poor thing, went on to say, in

a very low voice, that she had liked him from the very first
moment she had seen him, and had been very happy for these days,

and would always think of him as a dear friend who had been very
kind to her, who had so little pleasure in life, and so would

always remember him.
Then they were both silent, until at last Barnaby made shift to

say, though in a hoarse and croaking voice, that Captain Malyoe
must be a very happy man, and that if he were in Captain Malyoe's

place he would be the happiest man in the world. Thus, having
spoken, and so found his tongue, he went on to tell her, with his

head all in a whirl, that he, too, loved her, and that what she
had told him struck him to the heart, and made him the most

miserable, unhappywretch in the whole world.
She was not angry at what he said, nor did she turn to look at

him, but only said, in a low voice, he should not talk so, for
that it could only be a pain to them both to speak of such

things, and that whether she would or no, she must do everything
as her grandfather bade her, for that he was indeed a terrible

man.
To this poor Barnaby could only repeat that he loved her with all

his heart, that he had hoped for nothing in his love, but that he
was now the most miserable man in the world.

It was at this moment, so tragic for him, that some one who had
been hiding nigh them all the while suddenly moved away, and

Barnaby True could see in the gathering darkness that it was that
villain manservant of Sir John Malyoe's and knew that he must

have overheard all that had been said.
The man went straight to the great cabin, and poor Barnaby, his

brain all atingle, stood looking after him, feeling that now
indeed the last drop of bitterness had been added to his trouble

to have such a wretchoverhear what he had said.
The young lady could not have seen the fellow, for she continued

leaning over the rail, and Barnaby True, standing at her side,
not moving, but in such a tumult of many passions that he was

like one bewildered, and his heart beating as though to smother
him.

So they stood for I know not how long when, of a sudden, Sir John
Malyoe comes running out of the cabin, without his hat, but

carrying his gold- headed cane, and so straight across the deck
to where Barnaby and the young lady stood, that spying wretch

close at his heels, grinning like an imp.
"You hussy!" bawled out Sir John, so soon as he had come pretty

near them, and in so loud a voice that all on deck might have
heard the words; and as he spoke he waved his cane back and forth

as though he would have struck the young lady, who, shrinking
back almost upon the deck, crouched as though to escape such a

blow. "You hussy!" he bawled out with vile oaths, too horrible
here to be set down. "What do you do here with this Yankee

supercargo, not fit for a gentlewoman to wipe her feet upon? Get
to your cabin, you hussy" (only it was something worse he called

her this time), "before I lay this cane across your shoulders!"
What with the whirling of Barnaby's brains and the passion into

which he was already melted, what with his despair and his love,
and his anger at this address, a man gone mad could scarcely be

less accountable for his actions than was he at that moment.
Hardly knowing what he did, he put his hand against Sir John

Malyoe's breast and thrust him violently" target="_blank" title="ad.强暴地；猛烈地">violently back, crying out upon
him in a great, loud, hoarse voice for threatening a young lady,

and saying that for a farthing he would wrench the stick out of
his hand and throw it overboard.

Sir John went staggering back with the push Barnaby gave him, and
then caught himself up again. Then, with a great bellow, ran

roaring at our hero, whirling his cane about, and I do believe
would have struck him (and God knows then what might have

happened) had not his manservant caught him and held him back.
"Keep back!" cried out our hero, still mightyhoarse. "Keep

back! If you strike me with that stick I'll fling you overboard!"
By this time, what with the sound of loud voices and the stamping

of feet, some of the crew and others aboard were hurrying up, and
the next moment Captain Manly and the first mate, Mr. Freesden,

came running out of the cabin. But Barnaby, who was by this
fairly set agoing, could not now stop himself.

"And who are you, anyhow," he cried out, "to threaten to strike
me and to insult me, who am as good as you? You dare not strike

me! You may shoot a man from behind, as you shot poor Captain
Brand on the Rio Cobra River, but you won't dare strike me face

to face. I know who you are and what you are!"
By this time Sir John Malyoe had ceased to endeavor to strike

him, but stood stock-still, his great bulging eyes staring as
though they would pop out of his head.

"What's all this?" cries Captain Manly, bustling up to them with
Mr. Freesden. "What does all this mean?"

But, as I have said, our hero was too far gone now to contain
himself until all that he had to say was out.

"The damnedvillaininsulted me and insulted the young lady," he
cried out, panting in the extremity of his passion, "and then he

threatened to strike me with his cane. But I know who he is and
what he is. I know what he's got in his cabin in those two

trunks, and where he found it, and whom it belongs to. He found
it on the shores of the Rio Cobra River, and I have only to open

my mouth and tell what I know about it."
At this Captain Manly clapped his hand upon our hero's shoulder

and fell to shaking him so that he could scarcely stand, calling
out to him the while to be silent. "What do you mean?" he cried.

"An officer of this ship to quarrel with a passenger of mine! Go
straight to your cabin, and stay there till I give you leave to

come out again."
At this Master Barnaby came somewhat back to himself and into his

wits again with a jump. "But he threatened to strike me with his
cane, Captain," he cried out, "and that I won't stand from any

man!"
"No matter what he did," said Captain Manly, very sternly. "Go to

your cabin, as I bid you, and stay there till I tell you to come
out again, and when we get to New York I'll take pains to tell

your stepfather of how you have behaved. I'll have no such
rioting as this aboard my ship."

Barnaby True looked around him, but the young lady was gone. Nor,
in the blindness of his frenzy, had he seen when she had gone nor

whither she went. As for Sir John Malyoe, he stood in the light
of a lantern, his face gone as white as ashes, and I do believe

if a look could kill, the dreadful malevolent stare he fixed upon
Barnaby True would have slain him where he stood.

After Captain Manly had so shaken some wits into poor Barnaby he,
unhappywretch, went to his cabin, as he was bidden to do, and

there, shutting the door upon himself, and flinging himself down,
all dressed as he was, upon his berth, yielded himself over to

the profoundest passion of humiliation and despair.
There he lay for I know not how long, staring into the darkness,

until by and by, in spite of his suffering and his despair, he
dozed off into a loose sleep, that was more like waking than

sleep, being possessed continually by the most vivid and
distasteful dreams, from which he would awaken only to doze off

and to dream again.
It was from the midst of one of these extravagant dreams that he

was suddenly aroused by the noise of a pistol shot, and then the