The Bellevite was not going at anything like her best speed, or at her usual rate at sea.

As she was going, it was about a four-hours' run to New York, and Christy was not in a hurry to get to his destination.
"Beeks, we have a prisoner, and I should like to take his measure," said Christy to the senior quartermaster.

"You may go aft and ask Sampson to bring him into the pilot-house." "Bring him into the pilot-house," repeated the man, as he left the apartment.
"What are you going to do with your prisoner, Christy ?" asked Mrs.
Passford.
"I shall hand him over to the proper officers, and they can do what they please with him," replied the middy.

"I don't want him: do you, mother ?" "What should I want of him ?" "Perhaps you want him, Florry ?" asked Christy of his sister.
"I am sure I don't," she replied, pouting.
"Perhaps you will want him when you have seen him," added the middy roguishly.
At this moment Sampson appeared at the door of the pilot-house, conducting his prisoner, whose hands were still tied behind him.

Christy did not see him at first, for he was looking at his sister; but her pretty face suddenly turned crimson, and her brother heard the sound of footsteps in the apartment.
As soon as he saw the prisoner, he started back in astonishment, though perhaps there was no particular reason to be surprised.