_An Incidental Passage at Arms_ There were two entrances to the channel, lying perhaps a half mile apart, the first the better and more practicable, and certainly, with the frigate rapidly drawing near, the safer.

They were almost abreast of the first one now.

Bentley, who had been observing him keenly, came up to him.
"We are almost abreast the first pass, Mr.Seymour," he said respectfully.
Seymour turned as if he had been struck.

Was the decision already upon him?
He could not make it.
"We--we will try the second, Bentley." "Sir," said the old man, hesitating, and yet persisting, "the frigate is coming down fast; we may not be able to make the second pass." "We will try the second, nevertheless," said the young man, imperatively.
"But, Mr.John--" "Silence, sir! When have you bandied words with me before ?" shouted Seymour, in a passion of temper.

"Go forward where you belong." The old man looked at him steadily: "When, sir?
Why, ever since I took you from your dead father's arms near a score of years ago.