Chapter 3

Alonzo. "Good boatswain, have care."--_Tempest._

The instant the stranger had separated from the credulous tailor, he lost
his assumed air in one far more natural and sedate. Still it would seem
that thought was an unwonted, or an unwelcome tenant of his mind; for,
switching his boot with his little riding whip, he entered the principal
street of the place with a light step and a wandering eye. Though his look
was unsettled, few of the individuals, whom he passed, escaped his quick
glances; and it was quite apparent, from the hurried manner in which he
began to regard objects, that his mind was not less active than his body.
A stranger thus accoutred, and one bearing about his person so many
evidences of his recent acquaintance with the road, did not fail to
attract the attention of the provident publicans we have had occasion to
mention in our opening chapter. Declining the civilities of the most
favoured of the inn-keepers, he suffered his steps to be, oddly enough,
arrested by the one whose house was the usual haunt of the hangers-on of
the port.

On entering the bar-room of this tavern, as it was called, but which in
the mother country would probably have aspired to be termed no more than a
pot-house he found the hospitable apartment thronged with its customary
revellers. A slight interruption was produced by the appearance of a guest
who was altogether superior, in mien and attire, to the ordinary customers
of the house, but it ceased the moment the stranger had thrown himself on
a bench, and intimated to the host the nature of his wants. As the latter
furnished the required draught, he made a sort of apology, which was
intended for the ears of all his customers nigh the stranger, for the
manner in which an individual, in the further end of the long narrow room,
not only monopolized the discourse, but appeared to extort the attention
of all within hearing to some portentous legend he was recounting.

"It is the boatswain of the slaver in the outer harbour, squire," the
worthy disciple of Bacchus concluded; "a man who has followed the water
many a day, and who has seen sights and prodigies enough to fill a smart
volume. Old Bor'us the people call him, though his lawful name is Jack
Nightingale. Is the toddy to the squire's relish?"

The stranger assented to the latter query, by smacking his lips, and
bowing, as he put down the nearly untouched draught. He then turned his
head, to examine the individual who might, by the manner in which he
declaimed, have been termed, in the language of the country, the second
"orator of the day."

A stature which greatly exceeded six feet; enormous whiskers, that quite
concealed a moiety of his grim countenance; a