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It was here long and solitary; with a man-o'- war's boat drawn up about the middle of the prospect, and an officer in charge and pacing the sands like one who waited. I sat down where the rough grass a good deal covered me, and looked for what should follow.

The vessel showed no colours, but was flying a pennant, and the general opinion was that she was an American man-o'- war; though what she had been doing in Sagua la Grande harbour, or how she had got there, nobody seemed able to guess.

"Shall I, indeed?" he sneered, thrusting his hands deep in his trousers pockets, and balancing himself on the heaving deck with his legs wide apart. "What makes you think so?" "Because I will report your conduct to the captain of the first man-o'- war that we fall in with on the coast, and you will be called upon to give an account of yourself and your behaviour."

"Certainly I do," answered I; "what of him?" "Why, sar, he hab got into a lilly scrape down on de wharf, and de perlice hab put him into de lock-up. Dey don' beliebe dat he am man-o'- war bucra, and he say, `Will you be so good as to step down dere an' identerfy him an' bail him out?" "Lindsay got into a scrape?" repeated I incredulously. "I cannot believe it! What has he been doing?"

"The moment I was brought on deck I recognised that I was aboard a British ship-of-war, and I smelt danger." "Ah," I remarked, "you afford another illustration of the adage that `a guilty conscience needs no accuser. What have you been doing that you should `smell' danger upon finding yourself aboard a British man-o'- war?"