Winchester was writing up his private journal; closing the book, he obeyed the order in that quiet, submissive manner which a first lieutenant is more apt to use toward his captain than toward any one else.
"Good evening, Winchester," said Cuffe, in a familiar, friendly way, which satisfied the subordinate that he was not sent for to be 'rattled down'; "draw a chair and try a glass of this Capri wine with some water.
It's not carrying sail hard to drink a gallon of it; yet I rather think it fills up the chinks better than nothing." "Thank'ee, Captain Cuffe, we like it in the gun-room, and got off a fresh cask or two this morning, while the court was sitting.

So they tell me, sir, his lordship has put his name to it, and that this Frenchman is to swing from our fore-yard-arm some time to-morrow ?" "It stands so on _paper_, Winchester; but if he confess where his lugger lies, all will go smoothly enough with him.

However, as things look _now_, we'll have her, and thanks only to ourselves." "Well, sir, that will be best, on the whole.

I do not like to see a man selling his own people." "There you are right enough, Winchester, and I trust we shall get along without it; though the lugger must be ours.

I sent for you, by the way, about this Bolt--something must be done with that fellow." "It's a clear case of desertion, Captain Cuffe; and, as it would now seem, of treason in the bargain.