Beadle's Half Dime Library (no. 128) (1880 01 06)
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sy % “i Z Gp SO WO Ll — XX SRR= Go LOWY, Sa lt i at at at a a at Omi. 4 $2.50 a year. Entered at the Post Office at New York, N. Y., as Second Class Matter. Copyrighted in 1879 by BEADLE AND ADAMS, January 6, 1880. Z Gi Z Z SS aR cen orien No. 128. Single PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Number. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents. The Young Privateer: The Pirate's Stronghold. BY HARRY CAVENDISH. CHAPTER I. THE WREOCR. Tue parting word had been raid, the last lock had been taken, and my traps had all been snugly stewed away in the narrow rocm which, for scme )ca@eg was tobe my home. I siood by the ste: beaid tah ing gazing back on the dear city 1 was leaving i va despite the stoicism I had affected when bir « ing farewell to my friends, 1 could not now prey; nts starting tear. Nor did my messmates seem in, & more sportive mood; for they could be seen, ;omea in the rigging and some leaning over the ship's de, looking back on the well-known landmarks «f the town with a seriousness in their aspect. wl.ich be- tokened the thoughts passing through the heart. Yes! we were about leaving the scenes of our boy hood, to enter on a new and untried life—and whu knew if any of us would ever return again to our homes? The chances of war are at all times dread ful, but in our case they were terribly increased cs the flag under which we sailed. Who could teat whether the officers of the revolted colonies might. not be considered as traitors as well as rebels? Who knew but that the very first enemy we should meet. would either sink or hang us at the yard-arm? Aud yet, firm in the righteousness of our cause, and com fiding in the God of battles, there was not one of our number who, having put his hand to the plow, wished to turn back. Sink or swim—live or die—we were resigned to either destiny, Evening was closing fast around the scene, and, even as I gazed, the town melted into gloom, 1p Hill alone standin up in solemn majesty over t shadowy city. The distant hum of the town died fainter and fainter on the darkness, the evening breeze came up fresher across the waters, the song of the fisherman and the dip of passing oars cease and, one by one, the white sails of the ships around us faded away, at first seeming like faint clouds, Lxe finally losing themselves altogether in the darknerx All around was still. The low monotonous ground swell heaving under our counter, and rippling faintly as it went, alone broke the witching silence. Noé %, breath of air was stirring. The boatswain’s whistle was hushed, the whisper had died away, no foot-falt rose upon the stillness, but over shore and sea, eartd: and sky, man and inanimate creature, the same deep silence hung. Gradually, however, the scene changed. Lights began to flash along the town and from the ships im port, and, ina few moments, the harbor was alive with a long line of effulgence. A half-subdued halo now hung over the city. The effect produced waa like that of magic. Here a ship lay almost buried iz loom—there one was thrown out in bold relief by he lights—now a tall warehouse rose shadowy inte the or , and now one might be seen almost as dis- tinctly as at noonday. The lights streaming from the cabin windows and a ge, along the bay, the swell tinged on its crest with silver, but dark as night below, and the far-off sails gleam like shadowy specters through the uncertain light, added dou) te effect to the picture. And when the stars came O11, one by one, blinking high up in the firmament, anc the wind began to sigh across the bay and wail rary through our rigging, the weird-like character of tre prospect grew beyond description. Hour after hous passed away, and we still continued gazing on th. scene as if under the influence of some magician’s spell; but, at length, exhausted nature gave way, and one after another went below, leaving only those on deck whose duty required their presence. For my- self, though I sought my hammock, a succession of wild indistinct dreams haunted me throughout the THE YOUNG PRIVATEER. | Hvelong night.
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2 The Young Privateer. A uleasant breeze was singing through the rigging as | mounted the gangway at dawn, and the tide having already made, I knew no time would be lost in geiting underway. Directly the captain made his appearance, and, after a few whispered words, the ie issued his orders. In aninstant all was bustle. he boatswain’s whistle, calling all hands to their duty, was heard shrieking through the ship, and thon came the quick, hurried tread of many feet, as the men swarmed to their stations. The anchor was soon hove short; the sails were loosed; the top- sails, top gallant sails and royals were sheeted ho +1 and hoisted; the head yards were braced aback an | che after yards filled away; a sheer was made w: h the helm; the anchor was tripped; the jib was hoiste1; and as she paid beautifully off, the foretop- sail was filled merrily away, and the spanker hauled out. Then the yards were trimmed, the anchor catted, and with a 7 breeze urging us on, we stood ny down the bay. As we increased our dis- nce from the town, the wind gradually freshened. One after another of the green islands around us faded astern; the hights of Nahant opened ahead, glanced by and frowned in our wake; and before the sun had been many hours on his course, we were rolling our yard-arms in a stiff breeze, leagues to sea. Before sundown the distant coast had vanished from sight. My messmates had already gathered around the table in the long narrow room which was appro- Pee to the midshipmen, when I dove down the atchway after the watch had been set. They were as jovial a set asI had ever seen, and, although our acquaintance was but of twenty-four hours’ stand- ing, we all felt perfectly at home with each other; and as the salt beef was pushed from hand to hand ead the pug. passed merrily around, the mutual at an jest bore token of our “ right good-fellow- ship.’ ca pretty craft, my lads,” said a tall, fine-looking fellow, obviously the senior of the group, and whom 1 had been introduced to as Mr. O'Hara; “‘ a. pretty eraft and a bold captain we have, or I’m no judge. I've been at sea before, but never in as gallant as = us this. Here’s success to The Arrow—no heel- taps.” The toast was drunk with a huzza, and O’Hara continued the conversation, as if, under the circum- stances, he felt that he was the only proper person to play the host. “You’re most of you greenhorns, my boys—ex- cuse the word, but ‘tell the truth,’ you know—and will not be good for much if this swell continues. One or two of you are getting pale alrea:ly, and, if I'm not mistaken, Cavendish and I are the only two of the set that have smelt salt-water before. Now, take a word of ailvice. Cut into the beef like the deuce, never mind if it does make you worse, cut away still, and by-and-by, when you get all the ‘longshore swash out of you, you'll find that you feel better than ever. We're for a long voyage, and many a hard rub you'll get before it’s over, but never flinch from duty or danger—even if Davy Jones himself stares you in the face. Kick care to tia wall, and be merry while you may. But a i have an eye to what is due to your superiors. The captain’s a gentleman. God bless him! The first lieutenant, I’ve a notion, is a sour sinner—never let him catch you tripping—but you needn’t mind him further, for he looks as if he oughter be tarred and feathered as the Boston boys served the exciseman. And, now, lads, here’s to a prosperous voyage, and ut’s turn in, one and all, for I’ve got the morning ~wateh, and I've a notion this breeze will have setuled jJown Into a regular hurricane, and be blowing great ins and marline-spikes before then.” The air of easy good-humor with which O’Hara spoke, attracted me to him at once. He was evi- dently pe pt and had seen some service; but it was equally as evident that he affected no superiori- “vy that was not his of right. I determined to know Vin better, / It was still dark when I was aroused from sleep by the calling of the watch, and hastily springing up, I soon stood upon the deck. The first glance around me proved that O’Hara’s anticipations were fulfilled, for the tempest was thundering through tus rigging with an almost stunning voice, driving the fine spray wildly along, and blowing with an in- tensity that threatened to sweep one overboard. ‘The men bent before the blast, and wrapped in their thick overcoats, stood like statues half seen through tho mist. The night was bitterly cold—the fine spray cut to the marrow. As far as the eye could see, On every hand around us, the sea, flattened un- til it was nearly as level as a table, was a mass of cviving foam. The binnacle lamp burned faint and «im, with a sickly halo, through the fog. Above, ))/>wever, all was clear, except a few white, fleecy clouds driven wildly across the frosty stars that twinkled in the heavens. As Iran my eyealong the tall, taper masts, now bending like rushes in the hurricane, I saw that nearly all the canvas had been taken in, and that we were scudding before the tem- ’ pest with nothing spread but a close-reefed maintop- - sail, a reefed fore-course, and the fore-topmast stay- sail, and eyen these, as they strained in the gale, threatened momently to blow out into ribbons be- fore the resistless fury of the wind. Under this comparative press of canvas The Arrow was skim- ming mong, ange ey to outvie even the spray in velocity. d well it was she sped onward with such hot haste!—for, on looking astern, I saw the billows howling after us, ng on their white ‘crests in fearful proximity, and threatening at every surge to roll in over our taffrail. Wilder and wilder, ‘more and even more fiercely they raced each other in oem like a pack of famished wolves pitch- ing and yelling after their prey. . “ ¥eep her so,’’ said the first lieutenant, as he left ~ the deck in charge of his successor, ‘‘ for you see it is neck and neck with those yelling monsters astern. If the sails are blown from the bolt-ropes they must ate as the canvas is new I think they will stand.”’ “Ship ahoy!’’ shouted a look-out at this moment. starting us as though a thunderbolt had fallen at our feet, ‘a ship athwart hawse.”’ “Where, where?’ exclaimed both the officers, in- credulously. * Close under our fore-foot—a brig, sir.” **My God, we shall run her down,” was the ex- clamation of the second lieutenant. All eyes were instantly turned in the direction of the approaching danger, and there, sure enough, di- rectly athwart our hawse, a small, trim-looking brig was seen lying-to—the wild hurricane of flying spray, which covered the surface of the deck in es with an almost impervious fog, having hith- erto concealed her from our sight. It was evident that the inmates of the brig had just discovered us for her helm was rapidly shifted, and a few hurried orders, whose import we could not make out, were given on board of her. All, indeed, seemed confu- sion on the decks of the unhappy craft. Her crew were h g to and fro; the officer of the vessel was shouting in his hoarsest tone; two or three forms as if those of passengers, rushed to the com- panion-way and to crown all, the sheets were let fly and with a wild lurch she rolled over, and lay the ne moment wallowing in the sea, broadside on. I could almost have jumped on her decks. All this passed with the rapidity of thought. Never shall I forget the shriek of horror which burst simultaneously from both vessels at this fearful crisis. Already were we close to the brig, driving with the speed of a sea-gull with the gale, and we knew that before another moment should elapse, ay! almost before another breath could be drawn, the collision must take place. But the lightning is not quicker than the officer of the deck. f ‘** Port—a-port—ha-a-rd, hard,” he _ thundered, grinding the words betwixt his teeth in his excite- ment, and waving his hand to larboard, and the helmsman, taking his cue more from the goovure than from the words—for in the uproar of the tem- pest he could not hear a dozen yards to windward —whirled around the wheel, and our gallant craft, obedient to the impulse like a steed beneath the are swept around to starboard. For asecond the ill-fated brig could be seen dancing under our stem, and then rolling heavily around, she seemed as if she would escape, though narrowly, from her frightful | gpee Acry of joy was already rising to my lips; ut, at that instant, I heard a crash, followed by a ull grinding noise and simultaneously I beheld the b come into collision with us just abaft the cathead, and while all our timbers quivered with the shock, she whirled away astern, rolling and rubbing fright- fully, and half-buried in the brine. A shrick rent the air on the instant, whose thrilling tones haunted me for days and nights, and seems even now to ring in my ears. d “God of my fathers!’’ I exclaimed, ‘‘ every soul will be lost!”’ ‘* Heave her to,” thundered the officer of the deck. ‘* For life or death, my lads! Up with the foresail— down with your helm—brace up your after-yards— set the mizzen stay-sail there.” It is a livel on sailors to say they never feel. No men are more ready to aid the unfortunate. On the present occasion the crew seemed inspired witk an energy ye to that of their officer, and spring- ing to their duty performed the rapid orders of the lieutenant in an almost incredible space of time. Happily a momentary lull aided the maneuver, and — proud craft obeying her helm, came g t- y to. ‘“Meet her there, quartermaster,” continued the officer of the deck; “set the main-staysail—brace up the fore-yards—merrily, merrily—there she has it—’’ and as these conclu words left his mouth the maneuver was finished, and we rode against the wind, rising and falling on the swell, an the spray to our fore-yard-arm as we thum against the seas, / My first thought was of the brig. As soon, there- fore, as our crate had. been hove to, I cast a hurried lance over the starboard bow to search for the un- ortunate vessel. I detected her at once lying a short distance on our weather bow,—and it was evi- dent that the injury she had sustained was of the most serious character, for even roe the mist we fancied we could see that she was settling deeper in the water. Her cers were endeavo to heave her to ; while rising over their orders, and swelling aboye all the uproar of the hurricane, we could hear the d g wail of her passengers. At length she lay to a few fathoms on our starboard bow, drifting, however, at every mg = bodily to lee- ward. Confusion still reigned on her dec We could see that the crew were at the pumps; but they appeared to work moodily and with little heart; and we caught now and then the sounds of voices as if of the officers in expostulation with the men. A eroup >* female figures also was discernible on the quarter-deck, and a manly form was visible in the midst, as if exhorting them to courage. At the sight a thrill of a h ran through our breasts. e would have laid down our lives to save them from what appeared to be their inevitable doom, and yet what could we do in the face of such a tem- pest, and when any attempt to rescue them would only entail ruin on the adventurers, without aiding those we would preserve? AsI thought of the im- possibility of rendering succor to those shri fe- males, as I dwelt on the lingering agonies they would have to endure, as I pictured to myself the brig sinking before our eyes, and we all powerless to prevent it, a thrill of horror shivered through every | | nerve of my system, my blood ran cold, my brain reeled around. and I could with difficulty prevent m9 from falling, so great was my emotion. But rallying my pe I tried to persuade myself it was all a dream. strained my eyes through the mist te see whether I might not be mistaken—to discover if a some hope for the forlorn beings on board he brig. But, alas, it wasin vain, There were the white dresses blowing about in the gale as the two females knelt on the deck and clung to their pro- tector—there was the crew mustered at the pumps, while jets of brine were pouring from the scuppers —and there were the crushed and splintered bul- warks betokening that tbe efforts of the men were dictated by no idle fears. I groaned again in agony. Had it been my own fate to perish thus, I Bould hawe borne my doom without a murmur; fellow-creatures perishing before my sight, without my having the power to succor them, was more than I could endure. I closed my eyes on the dread- ful scene Nor were my emotions confined to my- self. Nota heart of our vast crew that did not beat with sympathy for our unhappy victims. Old and young, officers and men, hardy veterans and eager volunteers, all alike owned the impulses of humani- ty, and stood gazing, silent, spellbound, and _horror- struck, on the ill-fated brig and her despairing pas- sengers. At this instant a gray-haired man, whom we knew at once to be her 200, 8y sprung into the epee’ a a ign — = placii'g his hands to is mouth, while his long silvery locks blew out di- sheveled on the gale, shouted: Z “We—are—sink—ing!”’ and, as he ceased, a shiver ran through our crew. **God help _us,’’ said the captain, for that officer had now reached the deck, ‘can we do nothing for them? And to see them sink before our eyes! But yet I will not despair,” and raising his voice, he shouted, “can’t you hold on until morning, or until the gale subsides a little?” The skipper of the brig saw by our captain's ges- tures, that he had hailed, but the old man could not hear the words in the uproar of the gale, and he shook his head despondingly. “We are sinking!” he shouted again; “there is a foot of water in the hold, and the sea is pouring in like a cataract. We have been stove.” Never shall I forget that moment, for, to our excited imaginations it seemed as if the brig was visibly going down as the skipper ceased speaking. His words sounded in our ears like the knell of hope. A pause of nah er pate Ve deep, solemn, awe-in- ring pause—during which every eye was fixed on the battered vessel. Seach man held his breath, and looked in the direction of the brig, as she rose and fell on the surges, fearful lest the next billow would submerge her forever. We all saw that it was use- less to attempt holding any communication with her, for no human voice, even though speaking in a voice of thunder, could be hear« agninet the gale. The two vessels were, moreover, rapidly increasing the space betwixt them—and, although 0 jects on the deck of the brig had been at first clearly percep- tible in the starlight, they had gradually grown dimmer as she receded from us, until now they could scarcely be seen. There was no alternative, there- fore, but to abandon her to her fate. The skipper of the brig seemed to have become sensible of this, for, after having remained in the main-rigging watching us for several moments longer, he finaliy Goscenas to the deck, waving his hand mournfully in adieu. Meantime the aspect of the heavens had material- ly changed. When I first came on deck, the stars, as have said, were out bright on high, with only a few scud clouds now and then chasing each other over the firmament. Even then, however, I had noticed a small, black cloud exten across the western horizon, and giving as ominous aspect to the whole of that quarter of the sky. But during the last half- hour my attention had been so e events I have just related, that I lost all conscious ness of this circumstance. Now, however, the in- creasing darkness recalled it to my mind. 1 looked up. Already dark and ragged clouds, precursors of e@ vast y of vapors following behind, were dim- ming the stars overhead, now wren. ing the decks in almost total darkness, and now thin by and leay- ing us once more in a dim and shadowy light, through which the men loomed out like gigantic specters, The wind had perceptibly decreased, while the sea had risen maren pt. e spray no longer flew by in showers, but the white ca the billows as they rolled up in the uncertain light, had a ghastliness that iled the heart with a strange emotion, almost amounting to superstitious dread. The ship strained and creaked as she rose heavily on the billows, or sunk wallowing far down in the abyss; while ever and anon the sea would strike on her bows like a forge-hammer, breaking in showers of ey high over the forecastle, and often sending its foam as far back as the main hatchway. The page mass of vapors meanwhile had attained the zenith, and was rolling darkly onward toward the opposite horizon. Directly the wind died nearly altogether away, while a total darkness shrouded us in its folds. Even then, however, a few. stars could be seen low in the eastern seaboard, twinkling sharp and serene, just under the edge of that ominous cloud, but canting only a faint and dreamy radiance around them, and in vain attempting to penetrate the gloom higher up in the sky. The brig was last seen to the north-west where the darkness had be- come most intense. She was still doubtless in that quarter, but no trace of her could be discovered. “Tt’s as black up yonder as the eye of death,” said the captain, ‘‘ and I can see not there but 4 dense impenetrable shadow—your sight is better, Mr. Duval,” he continued, addressing the first lieu- tenant; “can you make out anything?” The officer but to see rossed by thc
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4 : ; shook his head. “Well, we'll hail, at any rate. I woul i not have run afoul of them for my commis- sion,’ The hail rung out startlingly on the night, and every ear listened for the response. No answer came, ** Again!” said the captain. ** \-ho-0-y !—Hil-lo-0-0-0!” A second of breathless suspense followed, and then another, when we were about giving y all hope; but at that instant a faint cry—it might have been a wail, or it might not, God knows!—came floating across the waste of waters. Itfell on our listening ears like a lamentation from the dead. *‘ IIeaven preserve us!” solemnly said the captain, “Tm afraid all is over with them.” ““Amen!’’ ejaculated the lieutenant, and for an in- stant there was a breathless silence, as if each was too awe-struck to speak. Suddenly the huge sails flapped against the mast, bellied out again and then whipped backward with a noise like thunder. The effect was electric. The captain started and spoke. “The wind is shifting,’’ he ejaculated, holding up his hand, after having first wet it slightly; ‘‘ha! the breeze is coming from the north. It will strike by the mainmast. Let her stretch away at first, but we'll heave to as soon as possible. wouldn’t for the world desert this neighborhood; God grant we may find some vestige of the brig when morning dawns,”’ The hurried orders of the officer of the deck to preparo for the coming hurricane had scarcely been given and executed, before it seemed to us as if we could see, even amid the blackness of darkness to the north, the whirling motion of gigantic clouds, and almost simultancously with a roar as of ten thousand batteries, this néw tempest was upon us. Its first fury was beyond descriptiun—surpassing imagination—defying belief. It howled, shrickec and beHowed throuch the rigging in such awful and varied tones, that the oldest hearts were chilled with fear. It was as if the whole fury of the elements had been collected for one vast effort—as if tortured nature, made frantic by agony, had broken loose from her tormentors—as if the Inighty deep itself, in horror-struck penitence, was thundering its awful “de enc on the eve of final dissolution. I could scarcely breathe, much less stand. I could only grasp a rope, fling myself almost prostrate, and await either the subsidence of the storm or the foun- dering of our ship—for, during several minutes, it apweared to me as if every second was to be our last. Torrents of water, meanwhile, swept in sheets from the crests of the billows, were whirling lilze smoke-wreaths along the decks—while the ravening surges, faintly seen like shadows through the gloom, chased each other in wild and rapid succes- gon along our sides. All was darkness, doubt, and error, But happily the duration of the squall was propor- tioned to its intensity, and, in less than five minutes, the hurricane had begun to decrease in violence. After the lapse of a short period more the gale rap- idly subsided, although its power was still consider- able. Before half an hour, however, we were lying to as near to our old position as we could attain— having suffered no loss except that of our maintop- sail, which was blown from the bolt-ropes in the first moment of the squall, but with a noise which was lost in the louder uproar of the wind. “They have never survived this,” said the cap- tain, in.a melancholy tone, when we were once more snugly hove to; ‘how many souls are in cter- nity the Ali-Secing Eye only knows! Keep her here,” he added, after a pause, turning to descend to his cabin, and addressing the ofiicer of the deck, ‘‘ and with the first streak of light, if the gale shall have abated, as I suspect it will, cruise up to our old posi- tion, maintaining a sharp look-out in every direction, But I siall bo on deck myself by that time,” and with the words, taking a last but fruitless look toward the west, he went below., In half an hour the crowded decks were deserted by all except the silent watch; and no sound broke the whisile of the winds, except the tread of the men, or the cry of “all’s well,’ from look-out to look-out along the decks, With the first appearance of morning I was on deck, The gale had nearly gone down; the clouds had broken away; and the stars were out again, clear and bright, in the firmament, Yet the waves rolled mountain high around us, now heaving their snow crests above us in the sky, and now rolling their dar bosoms far away over our stern, Morning slowly dawned, Gradually, one by one, the stars paled on high, and a faint shadowy streak of light began to spread along the eastern seaboard. Over the bound- less expanse of waters around us no living object met the eye, so that, in the dim mysterious light, the sense of loneliness was overpowering. But I had no thought, then, for aught, except the ill-fated brig. I felt an unaccountable interest in her, It seemed as if some unknown sympathy cxisted betwixt me and those on board of her, as if my destiny in some mys- terious Manner was connected with theirs. I could not rest on deck, but, ascending to the cross-trees I took my station, and gazed out anxiously over the waste of waters. Our ship had, by this time, been ut about, and we were now, as near as I could codec mn the vicinity of the spot where the collision occurred. The moment came which was either to CETL realize or confirm my fears, A strange emotion took | ossession of me, M reath came heavily, 1 trembled in every fiber of m system. Istrained my eyesin every direction around, and, once or twice, as a billow rolled its white crest upward, I fancied I saw a sail—but, alas! my agita- tion deceived me, and all was a blank, watery waste around, For more than an hour we cruised to and fro, but in vain. As time passed, and hope died 6 Way, the officers and men, one by one, left the rig- { \ 4 ‘ n heart beat nervously, my | ‘“oung Privateor. ging, until fiually even the captain gave up the search, and issued a-reluctant order to put the ship away on hercourse. At this instant I saw, far down on the seaboard, what seemed to me a tiny sail; but as we sunk in the trough of the sca the object faded from my sight. With eager eyes, I watched for it as we rose on the swell, and—God of my fathers—it was the long looked-for boat. ““A gsail!’? I shouted, almost in a frenzy; ‘‘ they are in sight !”’ ‘“ Where away?” demanded the officer of the deck, while every eye swept the horizon in eager curiosity. “*On the lee-beam!” “What do you make it out?” “A ship’s launch—it is the brig’s crew,” ejaculated the captain. ‘‘Up with your helm, quartermaster— around with her all—there she dances,” and as he spoke the oo ship wheeled around and in a few _———— the brig’s launch was rocking under our OWS. The discipline of a man-of-war could scarcely sup- press the loudest demonstrations of emotion on the part of the crew, when the freight of that tempest- tossed launch reached the decks. The sailors of the brig were instantly seized by our tars, and borne forth in triumph—while our superior pepcane the hand of the rescued skipper with visible emotion, But when the two females, with their protector, an elderly, gentlemanly-looking man, were safely landed on the quarter-deck, every eye was at once'attracted to the interesting Froup. Both the females were oung and beautiful, but one was surpassingly ovely. As I gazed on her, it seemed as if some long- forgotten dream had come back to me; but in vain were my attempts to give it reality. At this instant their protector spoke in reply to a question from the captain. Rit is indeed a miracle that we are saved. The brig went down in that fearful squall, and though we had taken to the launch, as a last hope, we did not believe we should live a minute in such a hurricane. But an Omnipotent Power preserved us for some wise ends. night long we were tossed at the mercy of the waves. e saw you long before you saw us, and thought that you had given up the search, when suddenly your head was brought around in our direc- tion—and here we stand on your decks. To whom are we indebted for our discovery? Weowe him our eternal gratitude.” All eyes were instantly turned toward me, and the captain, taking me by the hand. said: ““Mr. Cavendish has that enviable honor,” at the same time presenting me. “Cavendish!” exclaimed a silvery female voice in delighted surprise. At the mention of that name I locked up with eager curiosity, and saw the eyes of the lovely speaker fixed upon me, as if in recognition. She crimsoned to the brow at my eager glance, and asshe did so, the crowd of dim recollections in my mind assumed a definite shape, and I recognized in that sweet smile, in that delicately tinted cheek, in those now tearful eyes, in that lustrous brow, the features of my old playmate, ANNErTE! ‘“‘Cavendish—what, little Henry Cavendish?” ex- claimed the gentleman, eagerly seizing my hand. *Yos! it is even so, although the years that have passed since you used to visit Pomfret Hall have almost eradicated your features from my memory. God bless you, ms gallant young friend! We owe you our lives—our all,’ t The scene that ensued I will not attempt to de- scribe. Suffice it to say I retired that night with a whirl of strange emotions at my heart, CHAPTER IL THE ESCAPE, THE night after the rescue of the passengers and crew of the brig was to mea restless one. I could not sleep. Hour after hour I lay in my bammock eagerly courting repose, but unable to find it, for the images of the poe crowded on my brain, and kept me in a feverish excitement that drove slumber from my pillow. My thoughts were of my boyhood—of Pomfret Hall—of my early schoolmate—and of his little seraph-like sister, Annette. I was back cence morein the sunny past. Friends whom I had loug forgotten—scenes which had become strangers to me—faces which I ounce knew, but which had faded from my memory, came thronging back upon me, as if by some magic impulse, until I seemed to be once more shouting by the brookside, galloping over the hills, or singing at the side of sweet Annette at Pomfret Hall. I was the son of a decayed family. My nts lived in honorable poverty. But, though reduced in fortune, they had lost none of the spirit of their an- cestors, Their ambition was to see their son a gen- tleman, and a man of education. I had accordingly been early put to school, preparatory to a college education. Here I met witha youth of my own age, a proud, high-spirited, generous boy, Stanhope St. Cl He was the heir of a wealthy and ancient family, whose residence, not far from Boston, com- bined baronial splendor with classic taste. We formed a fast friendship. He was ayear or two my senior, and being stronger than myself, became my srotector in various school-frays; this mnited me to im by the tie of gratitude. During the vacation I spent a month at his house; here I met his little sister, a sweet-tempered, innocent f: iry, some four or five years my junior. Even at that early agel experienced emotions toward her which I am even now wholly unable to analyze, bué they came nearer the sentinient of love than any other feeling. She was so beautiful and sweet-tempered, so innocent and frank, so bright, sunny, and smiling, so infinitely superior to those of her age and sex I had been in the habit of associating with, that I soon learned to look on_her with sentiments egies to ador- ation, Yet I felt no reserve in her society. Her ’ fe ’ \ ’ ‘ 3 frankness made me perfectly at home. We played, sung, and laughed together, as if life had nothing forus but sunshine and joy. How often did those old woods, the qua 5 8 carved hall, the green and smiling lawn, ring with our gladsome merriment. We studied, too, together, and as I sat playfully at her feet, ogeante now on her book and now in her eyes, while her long silken tresses undulated in the breeze and frolicked over my face, 1 experienced sensations of strange pleasure uniike anything I had ever known. At length the time came when I was to leave this Eden. I remember how desolate I felt on that day, and how from pride in my sex 1 struggled to hide my emotions. Annette made no attempt to conceal her sorrow, She flung herself into my arms and wept long and bitterly. It was the grief of a child, but it filed my heart with sunshine, and dwelt in my memory for years. I returned to school, but my playmate was always in my thoughts. In dreams or awaise, at my 3 or in play, loitering under the forest trees, or wair dering by the stream, in the noisy tumult of day or musing in the silent moonshine, the vision of that light-hearted and beauteous girl was ever present to my imagination. It may seem strange that such emotions should occupy the mind of a mere boy; but soit was. At length, however, St. Clair took sick and died. How bitter was my grief at this event. It was the first thing that taught me what rea) sor- row was. This occurrence broke up my intimacy with the St. Clair family, for, young as I was I could — that my presence would he a pain to the amily, by continually reminding them of their lost boy. I never therefore visited Pomfret Hall again— but often would I linger in the vicinity, hoping te catch a glance of Annette, But I was unsucces Y I never saw her again, Our spheres of life were immeasurably separated, the circles in which she moved knew me not. We had no friends in com- mon, and therefore no medium of communication. God knew whether she thought of me. Her par- ents, though kind, had always acted toward me as if an impassable barrier existed betwixt the haughty ‘St. Clairs and the beggared Cavendish, and now that their son was no more they doubtless bad forgotten me. Such thoughts filled my mind as I grew up. The busy avocations of life interfered, my father died and left me penniless, and to insure a subsis- tence for my mother and myself I went to sea. The 8 of my youth had long since given way to the sad realities of life~and of all the sunny memories of childhood but one remained. That memory was of Annette. I had seen Annette only for a moment, as the fa- tigue they had endured, had confined herself and companion to the cabin during the day. How should we meet on the morrow? My heart thrilled at the recollection of her delighted recogniticon—y, ould she reet me with the same joy when we met again? ow would her father receive me? A thousand such thoughts kept me long awake—and when at length I feil into a troubled sleep, it was to dveam of Annette. When I awoke, the morning watch waa being called, and springing from my Lammock I wes soon at my post on deck. Therk: was clear, the waves had gone down, and a gcntle bieeze was singing through the rigging. To have gazed around on the almost unrufiled sea one weuld never bave imagined the fury with which it had raged scarcely forty- eight hours ago. arly in the day Mr. St. Clair appeared on deck, and his first words were to rencw his thanks to me of the day before. He alluded delicately to past times, and mogscvee me gently for having suffered the intimacy betwixt me and his family to decline. He concluded by hoping that, in future, our friend- ep ates. such he called it—would suffer no diminu- tion, lwas attending, after breakfast, the execution of an order forward, when, on turning my eyes aft, I saw the flutter of a woman's dress. My heart told me it was that of Annette, and, at the instant, she turned around. Our eyes met. Her smile of recog- nition was even sweeter than that of the dey before. I bowed, but could not leave my duty, else I should have flown to her side, It is strange what en.otions her smiles ¢v.ckened in my besem. I could scarcely attend to the execution of my orders, ro wildly did my brain whirl with feelings of ecstatic jey, Ab length my duty was performed. But then a new emotion seized me. wisked and yet 1 feared to join Annette. Lut I mustered courage to go aft, and no sooner had I reached the quarter-deck, than Mr, St. Clair beckc ned me to his side. “Annette,” said he, “has scarcely yet given } ou her thanks. f€he has not forgotten you, indeed she was the first to recognize you yesterday. You re- member, love, don’t you,”’ he said turning to bia daughter, ‘‘the summer Mr. Cavendish spent with us at the Hall? Jt was you, I believe, who shed bo many tears at his departure.” He said this gayly, but it called the color into bis daughter’s cheek. Perhaps he noticed this, for he instantly resumed in a diflerent tone: “But see, Annette, here comes the captain, and I suppose you would take a turn on the quaiter-deck. Your cousin: will accompany him—Mr. Cavendish must be your chaperon.”’ We were still conversing when my attention was called away by the ery of the look-out that a sail was to be seen to windward. Irstantly every eye was turned over the weather-heam, for sbe was the first sail reported since the gale. An officer seized a gees. and, hurrying to the mast-head, reported that he stranger was considered a heavy craft, although, as yet, nothing but his royals could be seen, As we were beating up to the windward and the stranger was coming free toward us, the distance betwixt the two vessels rapidly decreased, so that in a short time the upper sails of the stranger could be dis- t + S
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L the officer aloft reported that the stranger was either a heavy merchantman or a frigate. This in- creased the excitement on deck, for we knew there were no vessels of that grade in our navy, and if the approaching sail should prove to be a man-of-war and an Englishman, our chances of escape would be slight, as he had the weather-gauge of us, and appearad, from the mgt h with which he ap- proached us, to be a fast sailer. The officers crowd- ed on the quarter-deck, the crew thronged every favorable point for a look-out, and the ladies gath- ering around Mr, St. Clair and myself, gazed out as eagerly as ourselves in the direction of the stranger. At leneth her topsails began :o lift. “Ha!” said the captain, “he has an enormous swing. What think you of him, Mr. Massey?’’ he asked, shutting the glass violently, and handing it to his lieutenant. The officer addressed took the telescope and gazed for a minute on the stranger. “TI know that craft,” he said, energetically; ‘she isa heavy frigate—the Ajax—I served in her some eight years since. I know her by the peculiar lift of her topsail.”’ * Ah!” said the captain; tinued, examining her throug. does indsed seem a heavy craft, and we have but one chance—we should surely fight her?” “you are sure?” he con- his glassagain; ‘* she ahead. She proved as I expected, a corvette. Nor were we long left in doubt as to her flag, for the red field of St. George shot up to her gaff, and a cannon- ball ricochetting across the waves plowed into the sea a few fathoms ahead of our bow. For a mo- ment we looked at each other in dismay at this new danger. We saw that we were beset. A powerful foe was coming up with us hand over hand astern, and acraft fally our equal was heading us off. Es- eape seemed impossible. The ladies, who still kept the deck turned pale and clung closer to their protec- tor’s arm. The crew were gloomy. The officers look- But the imperturbable calm of the captain suffered no diminution. He had already or- dered the crew to their quarters, and the decks were now strewed with preparations for the strife, ed perplexed. The Young Privateer. shot be fired until I give the order. Steady, quarter- master, steady.” By this time I had descended to the deck, ready totake my post at quarters. The ladies still kept the deck, but the captain’s eyes happened to fall on them, the stern expression of his countenance gave way to one of milder character, and, approaching them, he said: “JT am afraid, my dear Miss St. Clair, that this will soon be no place for Y pee or your fair compan- ion. Allow me to send youtoa place of safety. on ! here is Mr. Cavendish, he will conduct you be- ow.”” “Oh! Mr. Cavendish,” said Isabel, with a tremu- lous voice, ‘‘is there any chance of our escape?” Annette did not speak, but she looked up into my face with an anxious expression, while the color went and came in her cheek. My answer was a con- fident assertion of victory, although, God knows, I scarcely dared to entertain the hope of such a re- sult, It reassured my fair companions, however, and I thought that the eyes of Annette at least ex- Lahr a the gratitude which did not find vent in words, ‘*We will not forget you in our prayers,” said Isa- bel, as I prepared to reascend the deck; ‘ farewell— ages we meet again!" **God bless you and our other defenders,”’ said An- nette. She would have added more, but her voice lost its firmness. She could only extend her hand. was out of sight astern. So ended our first conflict with the enemy. CHAPTER Ii. A DASH AT A CONVOY. Ir was the second night after our brush with the corvette, when a party, composed of Mr. St. Clair, his niece and daughter, together with several of the officers, stood at the side of the ship. It was a lovely evening. The moon was high in heaven, sailing on in cloudless splendor; her silvery light tipping the tops of the billows, and stretching in a long line of efful- nce across the waves. A gentle breeze was sing- ng, with a clear and musical intonation, among the thousand tiny threads of the ri The water “if yon ask me,’ said the lieutenant, “I say not | Lgrasped it, pressed it betwixt both of mine, and Why that craft could blow us out of the water in a | then tore myself away. As I turned from them, I eouple of broadsides; she throws a weight of metal | thought I heard a sob. I know that a tear-drop was treble our own.” on that delicate band when I pressed it in my own. “Then there is but one thing to do—we must wear, When I reached the deck, [found Mr. St. Clair al- and take to our heels—a stern chase is proverbially | ready at his post, for he had volunteered to aidin the a long one.”’ approaching combat. Nor was that combat long de- During this conversation not a word had been | layed. We were now close onto the corvette, but yet ken inour group; but I had noticed that when | not a shot had been fired from our batteries, although the lieutenant revealed the strength of the foe, the ] the enemy was beginning a rapid and furious can- cheek of Annette for a moment grew pale. Her emo- | nonade, under which our brave tars chafed like chain- tion, however, continued but a moment. And when | ed lions. Many a tanned and sun-browned veteran our ship had been wore, and we were careering be- | glared fiercely on the foe, and even looked curiously fore the wind, her demeanor betrayed none of that | and donbtine ts on his officers, as the balls of the nervousness which characterized her cousin. corvette came hurtling rapidly and more rapidly to- “Can they overtake us, Mr. Cavendish?” said her | ward us, and at length when a shot dismounted one companion, *‘Oh! what a treacherous thing the sea | of our carriages and laid four of our brave fellows ig. ere we were returning only from Charleston | dead on the deck, the excitement of the men became to Boston, yet shipwrecked and almost lost—and | almost uncontrollable. At this instant, however, the now canened by an enemy and perhaps destined to | corvette yawed, bore off, and ran off with the wind be captured.” on her quarter. Quick as lightning Captain Smyth “Fear not, sweet coz,” laughingly said Annette. | availed himself of the bravado. “Mr. Cavendish would scarcely admit that any ship *‘Lay her alongside, quartermaster,” he thun- afloat could outsail The Arrow aad you see what a | dered. : start we have in the race. Besides, you heard Ca) “Ay, ay, sir,” answered the old water-rat, and tain Smyth just now say, that, when night came, he ; during a few breathless moments of suspense we hoped to be able to drop the enemy altogether. Are | crowded ee after the corvette. That suspense, they pursuing us yet, Mr. Cavendish?” : however, was of short duration. We were nowon 7 Oh, yes! they have been throwing out their light | the quarter of the enemy. The captain paused no sails for the last quarter of an hour—see, there go} longer, but waving his sword, he shouted, “ Fire,” some more of their kites,” and simultaneously our broadside was poured in, “ But will we not also spread more canvas?” like a hurricane of fire, on the foe. Nor during ten Iwas saved the necessity of a reply by an order | minutes was there any intermission in our fire. The from the officer of the deck to spread our studdin combat was terrific. eé men jerked out theirjpieces sails, and duty called mg away. Lleft the ladies in | like Ye and we could soon hear even over charge of Mr, St. Olait, and hurried away to my | the din of the conflict, the crashing of the enemy's ei For the next half-hour I was so occupied that | hulland the falling of his spars. The ia po and had little opportunity to think of Annette, and in- | certainty of our fire meanwhile seemed to have para- deed the most of my time was spent below in super- zed the foe, for his broadsides were delivered with intending the work of the men. When I returned | little of thetury which he had been led to expect. on deck the chase was pr canennng with vigor, and it | Hisforemast at length went by the board. The si- was very evident that The Arrow, though a fast sail- | lence of our crew was now first brok.n, and a deafen- er, was hard pressed. Every stitch of canvas that - huzza rose up from them, shaking the very welkin could be made to draw was spread, but the stranger | with the uproar. astern had, notwithstanding, considerably increased ** Another broadside, my brave fellows,”’ said Cap- on the horizon since I left the deck. e officers | tain Smyth, “‘ and then lay aloft and crowd all sail— were begiuning to exchange ominous looks, and the | I think she'll hardly pursue us."’ faces of our passengers wore an anxious expression. “ Huzza, boys, pour it into her,’ shouted a m- One or two of the elders of the crew were squinting | visaged captain of a gun ; “ give hera parting e, suspiciously at the stranger. The captain, however, | huzzal” wore his usual open front, but a close observer Like a volcano in its might--like an earthquake mi ht have noticed that my superior glanced why? reeling by—sped that fearful broadside on its errand. moment at the pursuer, and then ran his eye as if | We did not pause to see what damage we had done, npconsciously up our canvas, At this moment the | but while the ship yet quivered with the discharge eryof “A sail’? rung down from the mast-head, start- | the men sprung aloft, and before the smoke had ling us as if we bad heard a voice from the dead, for | rolled away from the decks, our canvas was once x0 intense had been the interest with which we had | more straining in the breeze, and we were rapidly regarded our pursuer, that not an eye gazed in any | leaving our lateenemy. When the prospect cleared direction except astern. The captain looked quickl up, we could see her lying a hopeless wreck astern. around the horizon, and hailing the look-out, shou 6 frigate, which during the conflict, had drawn ed: close upon us, was now sending her shots over us like “ Whereaway?”’ hailstones, but when she came abreast of her consort “On the starboard bow.” ' she was forced to stop, as our late foe by this time “What does he look like?’ continued Captain | had hung outa of distress. We couldsee that Smyth to me, for I had taken the glass at once, and | boats, laden with humen beings, were putting off was now fur on my way to the cross-trees. from the corvette to the frigate, which proved that “He seems a craft about as heavy as our own.” our late antagonist was in a sinking condition. Be- “Flow now?” asked the captain, when sufficient | fore an hour she blew up with a tremendous explo- ace had elapsed to allow the top-sails of the new | sion. visitor to be seen. I was the first one to hurry below and relieve the “She has the jaunty cut of a corvette,” I replied. | suspense of Annette and her cousin by apprising A short space of time—a delay of breathless inter- | them of our success. A few hours repaired the dam- est—sufficed to betray the character of the ship | age we had sustained, and before nightfall the frigate “We will fight him,” he said; we will cripple or sick him, and then keep on our way. But let not a rippled pleasantly against the sides of the ship. Not far off la sonal rakish schooner, from which the sound of a bugle, borne on the night air, floated in delicious melody to our ears. The decks were noise- less. The quiet moon seemed as if, by some a spell, she had hushed the deep into silence, for searcely a sound rose Fs from the heaving waves, which, gibtering now in the wake of the moon, and now sinking into sudden shadow, stretched away in the distance until they faded into the dim mystio haze of the distant seaboard. The whole scene was like a vision of romance. The group which I have mentioned stood at the gangway of the ship. A boat was rocking gently be- low. The passengers, whom we had rescued from the brig, were about transferring themselves to tha schooner lying to a short, distance off, which we had spoken about an hour before, and which proved te be a small privateer boundin for Newport. As we were off Block Island and the run would consequent- ly bea short one, Mr. St. Clair had resolved to avail himself of this opportunity to place his daughter and niece safely on shore, The party were now about to embark. “‘T shall never forget your kindness,” said Mr. St. Clair, addressing the captain, ‘and lam sure that my daughter and niece will give you their especial prayers as the best return they can make for the obligations they owe you. And as for my friend, Mr, Cavendish—I hardly know how to express m thanks. You will come and see us?” he co: tinued, turning frankly to me, and taking both my hands. “Pomfret Hall will always open its doors gladly to welcome the preserver of its owner,”’ I promised that I would not forget it, and turned away to hide the emotion occasioned by the kind tone of Mr. St. Clair. As I moved away my eyes fell upon Annette. Her gaze was fixed on me with an expression I shall never forget, but which I would have given the world to have been able to interpret. There was an expression of the deepest interest in that look, and the eyes, I fancied, were partially humid. As soon as she caught my gaze, she blushed deeply, and looked down. t meant that earnest gaze—this sudden embarrassment? Did she then really love me? My heart beat fast, my brain swam around, my emotion, for an instant, almost overpow- ered me. I could, if no one had been present, have rushed to her feet and told her my suit. But a moment’s reflection changed the current of my thoughts. Perhaps she had noticed my feeling while her father had been speaking. If so, her sub- sequent emotion arose from being detected in ob- serving me. I ran over everything which had hap- pened since she had been on board, and could find nothing corroborating, directly, the idea that she loved me. Her manner had always been frank and kind; but what had she said or done to give me hope? As these Coy ts rushed through my mind my towering hopes fell. The revulsion was extreme. I despaired now as much as I had exulted but a mo- ment before. I was about to turn gloomily away, when the voice of Isabel called me. I loctsd ve. She was beckoning me gayly *»ward ber 29 she leaned on Annette’s arm. “Why, I declare, Mr. Cavendish,” she sai’, laugh- ingly, * you seem to be determined to let us Gepart without even saying ‘adieu’—a pretty gens, rou are, to be sure! Here is Annette really ispleased at your coldness,”’ A look of silent reproach was the only reply of her cousin, who dared not raise her eyes to mine. With the vacillation of a lover “oF sentiments again under- went a change. Had Annette really been wondering at my coldness? How unjust then had been my sus- Paice pe I advanced eagerly to her side, yet when I nad done so I knew not what to say. Isabel seemed not only to see my embarrassment but to enjoy it. She continued, gayly: “There, now, do your devoir like a gallant knight and soldier—coz, have you no glove or other favor for him to wear on his om in battle? Ah, me! the days of courtesy and chivalry have gone forever. But there—I see uncle arity | down my package; I must see that he does not let it drop clumsily over- board,”’ and she tripped laughingly away. Left almost ée/e-a-tete with Annette—for every eyo was at that moment turned to the gangway where some of the passengers were already embarking, I yet feJt unable to avail myself of an nS ary for which I had longed. A single word would decide my fate, and yet that word I could not pronounce. My boldness had all disappeared, and I stood before the fair girl equally agita with herself. At length J looked up. She stole a furtive glance at me as I did so, and blushed again to the very brow. I took her hand, it was not withdrawn. Vords of fire were already on my lips when her father turned toward us, Saying: “Annie, my love, they wait for you—Mr. Caven. dish, a last good-by "—and as he spoke every eye was turned toward us. The ee a moment was ast. I could do nothing but lead Annette forward. et I ventured to press her hand, My senses de- ceived me, or it was faintly, though very faintly, returned. I would have given worlds, if I had them, for the delay of a minute, that I might learn my fate from the lips of that fair girl. But it was not to be. We were already in the center of the group. Mr. St. Clair took his daughter and lifted her in’ the chair, and in another moment her white dress fluttered in its descent to the boat. My heart died within me. The golden moment had passed, perhaps forever; for when should we meet again? New scenes, new friends, would in all probability drive me from Annette’s remembrance before we should next see each other. These thoughts filled my mind as I leaned over the bulwark and waved my hand while the boat put off. Mr. St. Clair stood up in the Nera. and bowed in return, while I thought I could see the fair hand of Annette returning my parting adieus. I watched the receding figures until the roniiod the schooner, and even after they had Reams ear eo
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deck, and the two vessels had parted each on its own way, I continued gazing on the white dress of Annette until I could no longer detect the faintest sh dow of it. When at length it disappeared totall in the distance, I felt a loneliness of the heart, such as no language can gxpress. To a late hour I con- tinued pensively walking the deck, unable to shake off this fecling, and it was only a gay remark of one of the messmates that finally aroused me from my abstraction. I shook off my opel ree an effort, laughed gayly in reply, and soon sought my ham- mock, as my spirits would not permit me much | longer to carry on this double game. Yor a week we cruised in the track of the home- bound fleet from the West Indies, but without suc- cess. During this time Annette was constantly in my thoughts. Her last look—that gentle pressure of the hand, thrilled through every vein, as often as they recurred to me. Never could I forget her— would she continue to think of me? More than a week had passed, as I have said, since we had parted from the St. Clairs, yet still we had not spoken a sail. At length, one day, when I had the morning watch, the look-out hailed from the cross-trees, that a sail was down on the seaboard to leeward, Chase was instantly given to the stranger. The breeze was fresh, and we were in consequence #00n close enough to discern the character of our neighbor. She had not from the first appeared to avoid us, and no sooner did we show our colors than she ran up the ensign of France. We were going on different tacks, and as we approached, both ships lay tofora moment's conversation, The French mer- chantman was a noble ship, and as she came up gal- lantly toward us, her long bowsprit sunk far down into the trough of the wave, and then, with a slow swan-like motion, she rose on the ensuing swell until her bows were elevated almost clear of the water, while the bright copper, dripping with brine, glis- tened gloriously in the sunbeams. The Irenchman backed his topsails as he drew near, and the two vessels stood head on, while we sent a boat on board. The merchantman proved to be ni her homeward passage, and had conse- uently no intelligence from Kurope te furnish us. ut the French skipper told us what was far more interesting to us. He mentioned that he had but the day before fallen in with the homeward- bound English fleet, from the West Indies, amount- ing to some sixty sail. The fleet was convoyed by four men-of-war. Our captain, however, resolved to have a dash at the convoy. He conceived the daring project of cutting off a portion of the fleet, under the very batteries of the men-of-war. The French skip- per wished us a“‘ton voyaye,” and the two vesse parted company. We eracked on all sail, during the whole of the day and night. The next morning, at the dawn of day, our look-out doseried the English fleet, on our lar- oard side. Luelcily, we had the weather-gauge. We .ept crowding on our canvas, however, during the vole forenoon, and as we gained on the convoy, we saw sail after sail rising in the seaboard, until the whole horizon was dotted with them, and the look- out reported more than fifty in sight. By this time the mon-of-war had caught the alarm, and were fir- ing guns to call their flock around them. The dull sailors, however, fell rapidly behind. This forced one of the English frigates to leave the advance, and run astern of the fleet. During the whole day we kept coquotting to windward, but no demonstrations “against us were made on the part of the men-of- war. “A cowardly set, by the Lord Harry,” said our old boatswain, who often beruiled a dull hour with a yarn. “Here we are giving them a chance for a fair fight, and the cowardly lubbers haven’t the pluck to coe up to take or give a thrashing. I can’t stand such sneaking scoundrels—by Sb. G eorge,’? and the old fellow energetically squirted a stream of tobacco juice from his moat), xs if from a force-pump. “We'll have a brosh with them, nevertheless, Hinton,” said I,” or [ know nothing of the captain, He has got his eyes on mora than one rich prize in that fleet, and depend on it, he'll make a dash for it be- fore long.” * Ay! ay! you’re right,’* answered the boatswain, “and he'll do it, too, efore two bells have struck in the morning watch.” The night shut in maaliy: and dark, The fleet was some three miles to leeward, for during the whole day we had carefully maintained the weather-gauge. As the darxness increased, we lost sight of the enemy’s ships, but their numerous lights, glistening like stars along the seaboard, still pointed out to us their position. (he wind was uncertain, now coming in fitful puffs, and then blowing steadily for a quarter of an hour, when it would again die away and sweep in squalls across the waste of waters. Scud clouds began to fly across the face of the heavens, obscur- ing the few stars, and giving a wild and ominous ap- pearance to the firmament. Down to the west the seaboard was covered by a dens) bank of clouds, out of which occasionally a tiash of lightning would zig- zag, followed by a low, hoarse growl of distant thunder. It was evident that ea tempest was raging far down in that quarter. On te opposite horizon, however, thesky was nearly {reo from clouds, only a few fleecy vapors being disvernible in that quarter. through which the bright stars twinkled clear an lustrous. The English fleet lay between these two opposite quarters of the horizon—the right wing of e convoy stretching down almost into the utter darkness ia that direction, and the left: wing skirt- ing along the horizon to the eastward. Al along the whole expanse of seaboard, more than fifty lights were now glittering, like so many fire-flies winging through the gloom along the edge of the forest on asuummereve. The scene was one of sur- passing novelty, and drew forth the admiration even of our veteran tars. Now and then the yapors in ty Privateer. the east would clear entirely away, leaving the firmament in that direction, sparkling with thou- sands of stars; and then again the murky shroud would inclose them in nearly total darkness. Occa- sionally, as if in contrast to this, a brighter flash of lightning would gleam, or a louder burst of thunder roll up from the dark bank of clouds inclosing the tempest to the westward. The night had scarcely settled down before the ship’s course was altered, and we bore dowii upon the fleet—taking the precaution, however, to put out all the lights on board except the one at the binnacle. Meanwhile the men were called to quar- ters, the tompions of the guns removed, the ammu- nition served out, pikes, cutlasses, and firearms distributed among the crew, and every preparation made for action. As we drew nearer to the convoy the darkness of the night increased, until at length, we could see but a few fathoms ahead into the gloom. The eastern firmament now became wholly obscured. Not a star shone on high to guide us on our way. Had it not been for the long line of lights sparkling along the seaboard, betraying the position onchrled by the various vessels in the convoy, we should have possessed no guide to our prey—and nothing but the confidence felt by the enemy in his superior force could have induced him to continue his lights aboard when otherwise he might have run achance of dropping us in the darkness. But he never dreamed of the bold swoop which we pro- jected into the very midst of his flock. He would as soon have thought of our blockading the Thames, or burning the nes or ag fleet off Portsmouth. The plan of Captain Smyth was indeed a bold one. Bearing right onward into the very center of the fleet, he intended to cut off one of the wings from the main body, and then board and take possession of as many of the merchantmen as he could carry in the obscurity. We judged that the men-of-war were in the van, with the exception of a frigate which we had seen before nightfall hovering in the rear of the fleet to cover the lagging. merchantmen. This frigate, however, we su »posed to be on the ex- treme right of the enemy. e therefore bore down for the opposite extremity of the fleet. For more than an hour, while, with every rag of canvas abroad we were hastening to overtake the enemy, scarcely a word was spoken by the crew— but each man remained at his station eagerly watch- ing the gradual diminution of the distance’ hetwixt us and the convoy. Indeed, silence was, in some measure, necessary to the success of our plot. Even the orders of the officers therefore were given and executed with as little bustle as possible. As the darkness increased we noticed that the lights ahead began to diminish in number, and it was not long before we became satisfied that the foe had at length awoke to the probability of our being in the vicinity. At length scarcely more than half a dozen lights could be seen, These we judged to belong to the men-of-war, being kept aloft for the convoy to steer by. The difficulty of our enterprise was now re- doubled, for if the darkness should increase, there would be great danger of a collision with one or an- other of the fleet. This peril, however, we shared in common with the merchantmen composing the convoy, Our only precaution consisted in doubling our look-outs. Another hour passed, during which we steered by the lights of the men-of-war. By the end of that period we had run, according to our calculation, into the very heart of the fleet, leaving a man-of-war broad on our larboard beam, a mile or two distant. This latter vessel we fancied to be the friga’e which had been hovering toward nightfall in the rear of the fleet. Our anxiety now increased. We were surrounded, on every side, by the vessels of the convoy, and the obscurity was so profound that we could not see a pistol-shot on any hand. Our pro- gress, meantime, was continued in utter silence. The only sound we heard was the singing of the wind through the rigging, the occasional cheeping of a block, or the rushing of the water along our sides. Suddenly, however, I thought I heard a sound as of the bracing of a yard right over our starboard bow. “Hist!” I said to the boatswain, who happened tee moment to be passing; “hist! do you hear that?” The old fellow stopped, listened a moment, and then shaking his head, said: ‘**T hear nothing. What did you hear?’ “Hark! there it goes again,” I said, as the sound of a sail flapping against a mast came distinctly out of the gloom. “ By St. George, you are right,’ exclaimed the old water-rat; “‘ay! ay! young ears are arter all the sharpest!”’ He had searcely spoken before the tall masts of a | ship, like a specter rising through the night, lifted themselves out of the obscurity in the direction whence the sound had ear inst and instantaneous- ly we heard the tramping of many feet on the decks of the stranger, the rapid orders of the officers, the running of many ropes, and the creaking of yards, and the dull flapping of sails in the wind. same time a voice hailed: “Tuff up, or you'll be into us,” and then the same voice spoke, as if addressing the helmsman on board the stranger, ‘‘ Up with your helm—around, around with her—my God! we'll be afoul,” The consternation of the Britigh skipper was not without cause. No sooner had Captain Smyth dis- covered our proximity to the stranger, than he formed the determination of runing her aboard, tak- ing her by a sally of our brave fellows, and then, af- ter throwing into her a party sufficiently strong to maintain possession of her, keeping on his way. During the minute, therefore, that elapsed betwixt the discovery of the merchantman, aud the hail of \ y ’ ) \ t the | LT — 5 ' her affrighted skipper, the boarders had been called away and the quarter-master ordered to run us bows on to the quarter of the stranger. Instead of lufiing, therefore, we kept straight on in our course, and 5 a score of lanterns were shown on board both shi 8, sufficient ligbt was thrown over the scene to guide us in our maneuver. As the English ship wore around, bringing the wind on her starboard quarter, our helm was jammed to port, and swinging around almost on our heel we shot upon the foe, striking her in the stern galley, which we crushed as we would have crushed an egg-shell. The English ship was heavily loaded, and in consequence our bow- sprit ran high above her decks, affording a bridge on which our brave tars might easily pass on board. At the moment we struck, the captain dashed for- ward, and summoning the boarders to follow him, had leaped, sword in hand, into the center of the enemy’s crew, before her skipper had ceased giving orders to the perplexed seamen, who were running to and fro on her decks, in the vain hope of pre- venting any damage resulting to them from this collision, with, as they thought, a sister vessel. The consternation of the master may well be con- ceived when he found his ship in possession of an epemy. For some minutes he imagined it to be a est, for he could not conceive how any foe could lave the audacity to cut him out from the very heart of the fleet. His rueful countenance when he discovered his error, I shall never forget, nor the bad grace with which he consented to be transferred with a portion of his men to The Arrow. In less than five minutes, however, this necessary precau- tion had been carried into effect, and a prize crew left in possession of the merchantman. The officer in command was ordered to haul out of the tieet, and teigs a position as speedily as possible to wind- ward, Then the two ships were parted and we stood away as before on the larboard tack, while the prize braced sharp up, hauled her bowlines, and went cit close into the wind’s eye. “By Jove,” said a reefer, elated with the part he had acted among the boarders, for he had been one of the first to step on the decks of the merchantma, “by Jupiter, but that was neatly done—eh? con't you think so, Hinton, old boy?”’ “Shut your dead-lights, you young fjackanapes,” growled the old boatswain, \ 4 no means pleased with such a salutation, “ and ceep your tongue for cheering against the enemy; you'll have enough o? it to do before we turn in, Avast there! I say,” he continued, perceiving that the youngeter was abou’ to interrupt him; “ go to your post, or Ul report you, A young whelj;).. None of yous blarney, as your hick-tongued Trish messmate would say—away with you.” When Hinton’s ire was up, the safest plan was to retreat, for he would brook no 1etert unless from the captain or lieutenant. Over the youn reefers, especially those who were in disfavor with him, he domineered with a rod of iron, The youngster who had forgotten for a moment, in the elation of his first victory, the awein whic hhe held the hoetswain. was recalled by these words to a sense of the author- ity of the old tar, and he shrunk accordingly away, disdaining to reply, “Ay! go, you varmint,”’ chuckled Hinton, as. the reefer walked to his post, ‘‘and give none cf your ‘longshore palaver to a man who bad learned be- fore you were born to hold his tongue hefore an ene- my as his fl st duty. Isn’t it so) Mr. Cavendish?” was a great favorite of the old fellow, and slways made a pot of humoring him, so Tnodced an ¢ssent to his remark, although I was tempted to a: k him how long since he had forgotten his important duty of silence. I restrained, however, my ques- tion, and the smile which would fain have preceded it, and listened several minutes in return for this complaisance to a long Paty nic on the part of tho old fellow, against what he chose to call the almors universal presumption of midshipmen, From this tirade, however, the boatswain condescenced io exempt me, How long he would have dilated upon this favorite subject, I know not; but at tbet nin- ment, a hail came out of the gloom ahead, end e.cyy eye was instantly attracted in the direciion trou, which the voice proceeded. “Ship ahoy!’’ shouted an herculean voice; ‘wiht craft is that?” The tone of the speaker betrayed a lateni susp!- cion that all was not right with us. Indeed, he must have been so close to us in our late encounter with the merchantman, that he necessarily h<« ara many things to awaken his doubts. As he spcke, too, the tall figure of a heavy craft loomed out from the obscurity, and while we were yet speculeting as to what answer the captain would make, a dozen lanterns, flashed througa as many open port-holey revealed that our neighbor was a man-of-war. ‘“What ship is that?” thundered the voice; “an- swer or I'll fire into you!” Our dauntless captain waved bis hand for the batteries to be unmasked, and springing into the n iz- zen-rigging, while a neighboring battle-anterm, now disclosed to the night, fung its jight full vpou ‘his form, he shouted jn an equally etentorian yoice: “This is The Arrow—commissioned by the ¢ood commonwealth of—” ‘Give it to the canting rebel,” roared the Britikh officer, breaking in on his reply; “‘for God and $+. George—FIRE!”’ “Ay! fire, my brave boys,”? thundered our leader; “one and all, for the old ihirteer—eInn!” From the moment when the enemy had disclosed his lighted ports, our gallant tars had been waiting, like hounds in the leash, for the signal which was io let them loose upon the foe. The silent gesture of the captain, when he sprung into the mizzen-i ising, had been intuitively understood by the crew, end the orders of the proper officers were searcely weited for, before the ports were apened. the bio) dan 7 = ae pe ee ewe eee
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Y i . 1 q 6 terns unmasked, megcurs run out and the whole deck changed, as i y magic, from a scene of almost Eigy,ptian darkness to one of comparative light. Nor were the men less ready to discover the moment when to open their fire. The first word of the British officer’s haughty interruption had scarcsly been spoken, whea the gunners began to pat their pieces, and squint knowingly along them, so thas,when the command to fire was given, our whole broadside went off at once, like a volcano, and with deadly effect. Every gun had been accurately aimed, every shot was sent crashing into the foe. Not so the vate Although the British captain had certainly viewed us with suspicion, his crew had 4 iertone' thought us deserving of little caution; and minute accordingly elapsed before they delivered their broadside, and then it was done hurriedly and | with little certainty of aim. Tho first fire is always more effective than the ensuing six; and the advan- | tage of the surprise was decided; for while we could hear the crashing of timbers, and the shrieks of the wounded, following our discharge, the shot of the enemy passed mostly over our heads, and in my vicinity, not a man of our crew was killed. One or fellow, however, fell wounded at the gun next | mine. “ Huzza!” roared Hinton, leaping like a lion to fill the place of the injured man, “‘they’ve got their grog already. Have at ’em, my brave fellows, again, and avenge your messmate. Jack,” he said, turning to the bleeding man, “‘every one must have a kick some time in his life, and the sooner it’s over, my hearty, the better. Bouse her out, shipmates! Huzza for old Nantucket—the varmints have it again on full allowance!” For ten minutes the fight was maintained on our sido without cessation, The enemy, at first, rallied and attempted to return our broadsides promptly, but the injuries she had suffered from our first dis- charge had disheartened her men, and, when they found the spirit with which we maintained our fire, they soon gave up the contest and deserted their runs. Still, however, the enemy did not strike. One or two of her forward guns were occasionally and suddenly discharged at us, but all systematic resistances had ceased in less than five minutes, By this time, however, the whole fleet was in wu roar. Lights were flashing in every quarter of the horizon, and as the darkness had been clearing away since our brush with the metchantman, our look-out | aloft could see through the faint, misty distance, more than one vessel bearing down toward us. The mojority, however, of the fleet, seemed to be strupk with 2 complete yartwwidges, were ion. It soon becams apparent that the ships bear- ing down upon us, were armed; and before we had bo2n engazed ten minutes with our antagonist, no less than three men-of-war, from as many quarters of the horizon, had opened a concentric fire on us, regardless of the damage they would do their con- sort. Still, however, unwilling to leave his antago- nist without compelling her to strike, our leader maintained his position and poured in a series of rapid broxdsides which cut the foeup fearfully, Yet she would not strike. Onthe other hand, reanimated the approach of her consorts, her men rallied to er guns, and began again to reply to our broadsides, Meanwhile the hostile frigates were coming up to us, hand over hand, increasing the rapidity of their can- nonade as the distance betwixt us lessened. Our situation was becoming momentarily more critical. Yet even amid our peril my eye was attracted by the sublimity of the scene. The night, I have said, had partially cleared away, but the darkaess was still sutficiently intense to render the approaching frigates but dimly visible, except when a gush of fire would stream from their ports, lighting up, for a moment, with a ghastly lare, the smoke-encircled hull, the tall masts, and e thousand mazes of the hamper. Often the whole three vessels would discharge their broadsides at once, when it would seem for an instant as if we were girdled by fire. Then, as the smoke settled on their decks, they would disappear wholly from our sight, and onl come again distinguishable, when they belched forth their sulphurous flame once more. In the west, the scene was even more magnificent, for in that quarter was unexpectedly the nearest of the three m*n-of-war, coming up to us close-hauled, yawing whenever she fired, and then steadily dis- eharging her pieces, doing more damage than all her other consorts. The gallant manner in which she . delivered her fire—the measured, distinct booming of her long twenty-fours—and more than all, the inky hue of the sky in the background, brought out into the boldest relief by the light of her guns, made up a picture of gloomy grandeur, which the imagination ean ¢-* 1pare to nothing, except the fitful ghastly leams of ligat shooting across the darkness of that ernu realm which Dante bas painted with his pen of horror. While, however, I was gazing awe-struck on this scene, I noticed that the dark bank of clouds behind the frigate was visibly in motion, rolling up toward us. Our superior officer had, perhaps, no- ticed the same phenomenon, and knowing what it yortended, had remained by his antagonist, when wtherwise our only chance of escape would have been im an early flight. Some of the older tars now per- eeived the approaching tempest, and paused from the combat. Indeed, not a moment was to be lost. Thad seareely time to look once in the direction of the other frigates, and then turn again to the west- ward, before our antagonist in that quarter was completely shut in by the squall The wind had, meanwhile, died away, leaving us rocking unquietly in the swell. A pause of a minute ensued, a pause of the most breathless suspense. The men had in- the A of our leader, and the ery of their own | to fire, took them, after all, with surprise. Nearly a | anie, and, like a flock of startled | urrying from us in every direc- | The Young Privateer. stinctively left their guns, and stood awaiting the | directions of their leader, to whom they looked in | this emergency. We were happily nearly before the wind, which could now be seen lashing the foam from the billows, and driving down upon us with the speed of a race-horse. Another iustent and the squall would be upon us, All this, however, had assed in Jess time than is occupied in the relation, or scarcely a minute had elapsed, since I first saw the approaching squall, before Captain Smyth ! shouted: “Stand by to clew down—quick there all!” | The command was not an instant too soon. His opening words were heard distinctly in the boding | calm that preceded the squall, but the concluding sentence was lost in the hissing and roaring of the hurricane that now swept across our decks, The captain saw that it was useless to at se to speak in the uproar, and waving his hand for the quarter- master to keep her away, while the men instinctive- ly clewed down the topsail-yards, and hauled out the reef-tackies, he awaited the subsidence of the squall. Yor five minutes we went skimming before the tem- pest, like a snow-flake in a storm, On—on—on, we drove, the fine spray hissing past us on the gale, and the shrill scream of the wind through our hamper deafening our ears. Whither we were going, or what perils might meet us in our mad career, we knew not. We were flying helplessly onward, in- closed by oe mist, at the mercy of the winds. Even if the intensity of the squall would have allowed us to bring by the wind and reef, prudence would dic- tate that we should run before the hurricane, as the only chance of escaping from the clutches of our foes. Yet, surrounded as we were by the merchant- men of the fleet, we knew not but the next moment we might run down some luckless craft, and per- aaRe: by the collision, sink both them and ourselves. or nearly half an hour we drove thus before the hurricane. More than once we fancied that we heard the shrieks of drowning men, rising high over the uproar of the tempest, but whether they were really cries of the dying, or only the sounds created by an overheated imagination, and having no exis- tence except in the brain of the hearer, God only knows! A thousand ships might have sunk within a cable’s length of us, and not a prayer of the suffer- ers, not a shriek of despair have met our ears. There was a fearfulness in that perpeuie darkness, which struck the most veteran heart with an awe akin to fear. When men can look abroad and see the real extent of the peril which surrounds them | they can dare almost anything; but when surround- {ed by darkness, their imaginations sondars u | dangers in every strange intonation of the tempest, in every new outbreak of the surge. They tremble | at what they can not behold; in the language of the Scripture “their joints are loosed with fear.” At length the fury of the squall began to subside, and the dark bank of clouds which had encircled us, undulated, rolled to and fro, and finally flew in ragged vapors away, flitting wildly past the stars that once more twinkled in the sky. As the prospect brightened, we looked eagerly around to see what damage the squall had occasioned, The fleet was scattered hither and thither over the horizon, torn, shattered, dismantled, powerless. Far up in the quarter from whence the hurricane had burst could be faintly seen the body of the convoy; but on every hand around some of the less fortunate ships were discoverable. chantmen had attempted to lie to, or whether we had scudded before the gale with the velocity which none could rival, it was evident that we h away like a trunderbolt from the rest of the fleet, leaving them at a hopeless distance astern. Owing to the rapidity with which our canvas had been got in, we suffered no material injury; and, when the gale subsided and the wind came out again from the nortan, we lost no time in hauling up and Whether, however, most of the mer- passed getting the weather -gage of the convoy. The shi was put once more in trim—the crew then turne in, and the watches were left in undisturbed _posses- sion of the decks. AsIstood at my post and watch- ed the bright stars overhead, shining placidly upon me, or listened to the cry of ‘All's well!” passed across the deck, I the peace and silence of uproar of the preceding from look-out’ to look-out could not help contrastin the scene with the fearf hour. When morning dawned, not a vestige of the fleet remained on the southern seaboard. Our anxiety was now turned to the fate of the merchantman we had captured, and that of the prize crew we had thrown into her. But toward the afternoon watch, a sail was discovered on the horizon to windward, and when we had Eble within a proper dis- tance we recogni our prize. Our joy at seeing her may well be imagined. The prize proved to be laden with a valuable cargo and, as this was the first capture of any moment we had made, it raised the spirits of the menin a The giipper of the mer- chantman could never comprehend the justness of his capture. Like the generals whom Napoleon has been beating at a later day, he protested that he had been taken against all the rules of war. After keeping company with us for a few days, the prize hauled up for the coast with the intention of going into Newport. We subsequently learned that she accomplished her aim, but not until she had run the gantlet of an as og fleet. As for ourselves, commensurate degree. toward the south, on the look-out for a new we prize. CHAPTER IV. THE PIRATE. Ir was a_tropical night. The moon had gone down, but the stars shone clear and lustrous, with a brilliancy unknown to more temperate cftmes, paint- j : ; ing a myriad of silvery lines along the smooth sweli ot the sleeping ocean. A light breeze was murmur- ing across the waters, now and then rippling the waves in the starlight, and flapping the reef-points occasionally against the sails. A heavy dew was falling, bringing with it, from an island that lay far up to windward, a thousand spicy odors mingled into one delicious perfume. On the extreme verge of the horizon hung a misty vail, shrouding the sea- board in obscurity. Up to windward the same deli- cate gauze-like vapor was perceptible, and the posi- tion of the island, which we had made at twilight, was only to be told from the denser masses of the mist, that had gathered in one particular spot on the horizon in that quarter. It was the morning watch, andI was standing wrapped up in my monkey jacket, looking out dreamingly on the ripples that played under our side in the starlight, when the bluff voice cf the boatswain addressed me, at the same time that the old fellow wrung an enormous piece of tobacco from a still larger mass that he held in his brawny hand. “ A still night, Mr. Cavendish,” began Hinton, ‘it looks as if the old salt-lake was dreaming, and had drawn around her that fog as a sort of curtain to keep herself quiet, as I've heard King George and other big folks do when they go to sleep. Kor my part, I’ve no notion of such sort of sleeping, for I’d stifle to death if I had to be wrapped in every night like the Tesyien mummies that Pye seen up the Straits. Give mea hammock for sleeping comfor- table-like in—I never slept out of one since I went to sea but once, and then I’d as lief have slept head downwards, for I didn’t get a wink all night.” aon mean to say that you tried to sleep,” said I, smiling. ‘*Exactly—I’m no schollard and none the worse for that, I think. Them asis born to live by head- work ought to be sent to ’cadamies and colleges and such high places; but them as have to get a living by their hands had better leave book learnin’ alone, for, take my word for it, it only ends in making them rascals; and there’s other ways of killing a dog without choking him to death with bread and but- ter. Them’s my sentiments; and so when I’ve got to speak, instead of skulking about the business in search of big words, like the cook in the galley, Icome out at once in the plain style my fathers taught me. The devil fly away with them that can’t speak with- out shaking in their shoes lest they make a wistake. What’s not expected of them can’t be, and bi words don’t make an honest man, much less a ee | boatswain—the rect of the pudding is in the chew- ing,’ and the old fellow paused and looked in my face for a reply. He had scarcely done so, when he started, looked around and turned pale as ashes. A low, melan- choly strain, seeming to pervade the air, and com- ing now from above and now from some other quar- ter, could be distinctly heard rising solemnly across the night. The phenomenon bafiled even myself, but on Hintonit Lad an extraordinary effect. Sail- ors are at all tin:es superstitious and the bluff boat- swaip possessed 2 large share of this faculty. These singular sounds, therefore, appealed to one of the strongest feelings in his bosom, He looked at me doubtingly, turned around on tip-toe, and listened attentively a moment in eveiy direction. His scrutiny did not satisfy him, but rather increased his wonder. There could be no doubt that the sounds existed in reality, for, although they died away for a moment now and then, they would almost in- stantly be heard again, apparently coming from a different quarter of the horizon, The burden of the strain could not indeed be distinguished, but I fancied I could recognize human voices in it, al- though I was forced to confess that I had never heard from mortal lips such exquisite melody, for as the strain rose and fell across the night, now swell- ing out clear and full as if sung almost at our ears. and then melting away in the distance until it died off like the faintest breathing of a wind-harp, I was tempted almost to attribute the music to angelic visitants. The old hoatswain seemed to assign the sounds to the same cause, for, drawing nearer to my side, he ran his eye cautiously, and as if in awe, up tothe mast-head; and then looked with a blank and puzzled gaze, in which, perhaps, some super- natural] fear ae be detected, into my face. My own asto ment, however, was but. momen- tary. Hastily scanning the horizon, I had noticed that the mist in the direction of the island had been, during the fifteen minutes that I had been idly look- ing over the ship’s side, er creeping up toward us, although in every other direction, except down in the extreme distance, the sky was as clear as_be- fore. At first, moreover, my imagination had yield- ed to the impression that, as the strain died away on the night, it came out again from a different quarter of the horizon; but when, divesting myself of the momentary influence of my fancy, I began to an- — the causes of this phenomenon, I became sat- isfied that the sounds in reality arose out of the bank of clouds, to windward, and the illusion had been produced by the rising and falling of the strain upon the night. en, therefore the old boatswain turned to me with his baffled look, I had made up my mind as to the real causes of that which puzzled the vete- ran seaman. “There is a craft up yonder in the fog,” I said, ointing to windward, ‘‘and there are women on oard, for the voices we hear are too sweet for those of men.” I said this with a calm smile, which at once dissi- pated the fear of my companion, for, after thinking a moment in silence the puzzled expression of his face gradually cleared away, and he replied with a hd must, which I thought, notwithstanding, a little orced: ; ‘“*You are right—and that’s a reason for book
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—- Jarnin’, I never thought of before. Here have I sailed for a matter ox forty years or so, and yet I couldn’t exactly come at the cause of them same sounds, when you, who haven’t been ten years on the water—though you’re a smart sailor, I must say, for your years—can tell at once all about it, just be- cause you've had a riggilar eddication. Book-larnin’ ain’t to be despised arter all,’’? he continued, the blessing of God, I'll borrow the good book of the parson to-morrow and go at it yn for when I was a youngster I could spell, 1 calculate, at the rate of a ten-knot breeze. ut ma rhap,” he con- tinued, his thoughts suddenly changing, “ that craft up yonder may turn out a fat a peraggs could soon ane her if the wind would only breeze up a ittle.”’ Tho wind, however, had now fallen to a dead calm, and tho sails hung idly from the masts, while the j shaking his head, ‘‘even for a_boatswain, and, by } ship rolled with a scarce perceptible motion upon | the quiet sea. A current was setting in, however, to the island, and we were thus gradually to the unseen craft. This soon became evident from the greater distinctness of the sounds, and at length, 1 thought I could distinguish a few of the words sung, which seemed to be those of a Spanish air, Asthe night advanced the music ceased; but the silence did not long continue. Suddenly a shriek was heard rising fearfully on the air, followed by a strange mixture of noises, as if oaths, groans, and entreaties, and even sounds of mortal strife were all mingled in one fearful discord. The shriek was now repeated, with even more fearful vehemence; and then came the report of a pistol across the darkness. Our hearts beat with strange feelings. What nefari- ous deeds were being done on board the unseen craft? Hitherto the captain, who had strolled on deck to enjoy the music, had said that he should await the dawn, or at least the appearance of a breeze, before overhauling the stranger, but now he came to the de- termination of ordering out the boats, and learning the cause of those fearful outcries. “Some hellish work, I fear,” he said, ‘tis going on yonder; perhaps a piratical boat has boarded the craft, for the villains infest these islands. Board her at every risk, and then no mercy to the flends if they are reaily at thoir work,” The boats were hastily lowered, manned, and shoved off from the side of the ship, The second lieutenant commanded one of the boats, and to me was deputed the charge ot the other. We proceeded | rapidly, and as noiselessly as possible, into the bank of ciouds, and soon lost sight gf The Arrow, although long after her hull and sparg#iad disappeared in the obscurity, her top light was to be seen like a red, baneful star, floating in the firmament. Our guide, meanwhile, was the sounds of strife on board the invisible craft, but as we proceeded the uproar died away, and for a few moments a profound silence reigned. Then came a few sullen plunges in the water which we were at no loss to understand. The men sprung to their oars with renewed vigor at the sounds. A perfect stillness reigned once more, but we knew, from the distinctness with which we h heard plunges, that we were close onto the craft. Steering in the direction, therefore, from which the sounds had come, we glided along the smooth sur- face of the sea with almost incredible velocity. Not a word was spoken, but the oarsmen strained their sinews to the utmost, while the officers gazed intent- ly into the gloom ahead. Each moment seemed an age. Scarcely a dozen more strokes of the oar had been given, however, when the outlines of a bri shot up, as if by magic, out of the mist ahead, an almost instantaneously a voice from the stranger hailed us in the Spanish tongue. “‘ Keep her to it, my lads—pull with a will,” I said, as the boat commanded by the lieutenant dashed on without heeding the hail. “Boats ahoy!”’ shouted another voice from the brig, and this time the words were in English; “lay on your oars, or we’ll fire into you,” and at the same time a score of heads were faintly seen crowding the bulwarks of the vessel. “Dash into her, my brave lads,” exclaimed the lieutenant, standing up in the stern sheets and wavy- ing he sword aloft; ‘‘another pull, and we are up em, The men cheered in rerly, and, with a jerk that made the ash blades bend like willow-wands, we shot up to the side of the brig. But not unopposed; for almost before the lieutenant had ceased speaking, the dark villains, crowding the sides of the bi , poured in a rattling fire on us that would have checked men in the pursuit of a less holy object. But the charac- ter of the assassins who had taken the brig had now become apparent, and every man of our crew, re- membering that agonizing shriek, thirsted to revenge the sufferer, The volley of the pirates was not, how- ever, as deadly as it might have been had they not been taken partially by surprise, and been, in conse- uence, without that preparation to meet us which they otherwise would haveshown. Their discharge, however, God knows, was deadly enough! The stroke _ oarsman, but a few feet in advance of me, fell dead across the thwart. But the other boat, being in ad- vance, suffered far more, for I saw several of the men stagger in their places—while the lieutenant, springing up like a deer, tumbled erage the stern sheets, He had been shot through the heart. The impetus, however, which the last gigantic stroke of the men had given to the boats, sent them onward to the brig, and we struck her side almost simultane- oy, with the fall of my superior, “Vengeance!” I shouted, “ vengeance, my lads! follow me!” and springing into the fore chains ofthe brig I leaped from thence upon her deck, and pe myself, the next moment, almost unsupported amidst a circle of foes. “But it was only for a moment that Twas left without aid. I had scarcely exchanged orne nearer | The Young Privateer. the first parry with a brawny desperado, who met me at the bulwark, when my gallant fellows came ouring in after me, inflamed to double fury by the oss we had suffered, and betokening by their stern determined looks that the approaching conflict was to be one of extermination or death. The pirates, seemingly aware of their situation, glared on us with the fury of wild beasts, and sprung with curses and yells to repel the boarders; this left me, tor the in- | stant, almost alone with py stalwart opponent, and | iteous, ormy skill at my | had my cause been less rig weapon not a ghee I should have trembled for my life. Rare fatal night. He was a tall, sinewy sure olive complexion, with a dark, glittering, fear- uleye, and a huge black mustache such as Fever saw on a man before or since, His head was bare with the exception of a red scarf, which was bound around in the form of a turban, the ends of which | | depended on the left side, as 1 have sometimes seen them fancifully arranged by the Creole girls of the Islands. His shirt collar was thrown open, display- ing a broad and brawny chest that would have served asa model for that of an athlete. His arms were bared to above the elbow, and in his hand he held a common cutlass; but a brace of huge silver-mounted istols, and a dagger with a peace ornamented ilt was thrust into a scarf he wore around his waist. I forgot to mention that a small cross, the jewels ofywhich sparkled even in the comparative a depended by a rich gold chain from his neck, I am able to give this description of him, because when we found ourselves left almost alone,we paused a& moment, as men engaged in a deadly single com- bat will often do, before commencing our strife. I suspected at once that I was opposed to the leader of the pirates, and he seemed to feel that I held the same office among the assailants, which, however, settled down as his eye took in my comparatively slight proportions, to an expression of sneering scorn, Our pause, although sufficiently long for me to observe all this, endured but for an in- stant, for the momentary admiration of my foe faded before that sneering expression, and making a blow at him with my cutlass, which he dexterously repelled, we were soon engaged in mortal com- bat, At first my fe gpa underrated my powers. but a wound which I gave him in the arm, seeme to convince him that victory would cost him an effort, and he became more wary. For several mo- ments the conflict was only a rapid exchange of passes, during which our blades rattled and flashed ncessantly; for neither of us could obtain the slightest advantage over the other. How the com- batants progressed during this interval I neither knew nor cared to ascertain, for so intensely was I engrossed in my duel with the pirate leader that I heard nothing but the ringing of our blades, and saw only the glittering eye of my opponent. Those only who have been engaged in a deadly strife can under- stand the feelings of one in such a situation. Every faculty is engaged in the struggle—the very heart seems to stand still, awaiting the end. The heart involuntarily follows the impulse of the mind, and the eye never loses sight of its destined victim. The combat had continued for several minutes, when I saw that the pirate wus beginning to grow chafed, for the calm, collected expression of his eye gave place gradually to one of fury, and his lunges were made with inconceivable rapidity, and with a daring amounting to rashness. It took all my skill to pro- tect myself, and I was forced at length to give round, The eye of the pirate glared at his success ike that of a wild beast already sure of its prey, and, becoming even more venturesome, he press forward and made a pass at me which I avoided with difficulty, and then only partially, for the keen blade, although averted from my heart, glanced sideways, and penetrating my arm inflicted a fearful wound. But at the same time I was insensible of the injury. I felt the wound no more than if a pin had pierced me, Every thought and feeling was now engrossed by the now defenseless front of my antagonist, for, as he lunged forward with his blade he lost his defense, and his bosom lay unguarded before me. eae as lightning I shortened my blade and prepared to plunge it into the heart of the pi- rate. He saw his error, and made an attempt to p a pistol with his left hand—to ward o the low with his sword-arm. But it wasin vain. With one desperate effort I drove my blade inward—it cut through and through his half-opposed defense—and with a dull, heavy sound, went to his very heart. His eyes glared an instant. more wildly than ever— his lips opened, but the faint ery was stifled ere it was uttered—a quick, shuddering, convulsive movement passed over his face and through his frame, and, as I drew out the glittering blade, now red with the life-blood of one, who, a moment before. had been in full existence, the pirate fell back dead upon the deck. At the same moment, I heard a hearty cheer, and looking around, I saw our brave fellows had gained a footing on the deck, and were driving the pirates backward toward the stern of the vessel. 1 now, for the first time, felt the pain of my wound. But hastily snatching the scarf from the body of my opponent, I may A to bandage u my arm so as partially to stop the blood, and hurri to head rgd gallant tars. All this had not occupied three minutes, so — are the events of a mortal combat. I had at first thought that we had been forgotten in the excite- ment of the strife, but I had not been wholly unob- served, for as I stooped to snatch the scarf of the puaie one of his followers, who had seen him fall, eveled a pistol at me, with a curse, but the missile was struck up by one of my men, just as it was dis- 'y in the j charged, and the ball lodged itself harmlessl y, indeed, have 1 seen a finer-looking | or more muscular man than my opponent on that | Spaniard, of the | ) bulwark beside me. In another instant I was ogain “7 7 in the midst of the fight. The red scarf which Ff wore, however, reminding the pirates of the death of their leader, called down on me their revenge, and my appearance in the strife was a signal for a general rush upon me. “Down with him!” roared a tall, swarthy assassin, who, from his tone of authority, I judged to be second in command; “cut him down—revenge! re- venge!”’ I ~ ts at that moment surrounded on two sides by the pirates, but springing back while et gallant ters. raised their blades in an arch over me, I escaped tie cutlasses of the foe, ‘Hurl the hell-hounds to perdition,” growled a veteran foretopman, as he dashed at the piratical lieutenant, “Stand fast, all—life or death—that for your ven- geance,’’ was the response of the foe, as he leveled a te at the breast of the gallant seaman, The sna sped on its errand, and the topman fell at my eet. My men were now infuriated beyond all control. They dashed forward, like a torrent, sweeping eve thing before them, The pirates, headed by thete leader, made one or two desperate efforts to main- tain their ground, but the impetuosity of their an- tagonists was irresistible, and the desperadoes, ai first sullenly giving way, at length were forced into an indiscriminate retreat. A few of the most dariug of the freebooters, however, refused to yield an inch and were cut down; while others, after flying a few pee turned and died at bay; but with the mass the ove of immediate life triumphed over the fear of any ultimate ignominious death, and they retreated to the fore-hatch, down which they were driven. A few attempted to regain the long crank boat in which they had attacked the brig from the island, but their design was anticipated by one of our fellows, who hove a brace of shot through her bottom, I now bethought me of the female whose shri he had first alarmed us; and, advancing to the cabin y I descended with a trembling heart, anxious cnc. . ' yet fearing to learn the truth, Ihave faced deat) in a hundred forms—in storm, in battle, and amiden . epidemics, but my nerves never trembled before om), since as they did when I opened the door into the - cabin. What a sight was there! Extended on tho floor lay a white-haired old man, with a huge gas!», in his long silvery locks dabbled in his own gore. At his side, in a state of grief approaching to stup:- faction, sat, or rather knelt, a one! young creatul yw who might be about seventeen, her long golem e tresses disheveled on her snowy shoulders, and her blue eyes gazing with a dry, stony look upon the face of her dead parent, Both the daughter anc : the father were attired with an elegance which be - spoke wealth if not rank. Around her were several female slaves, filling the cabin with their lame? te. ; tions, and, at intervals, vainly endeavoring to com- { fort their young mistress. Several books and « guitar were scattered about, and the whole apart- ment, though only the cabin of a common merchant~ brig, had an air of feminine grace and neatness. The sight of the instruments of music almost, | brought the tears into my eyes. Alas! little hac. py that lovely girl imagined, when singing her artless . : ey. in what misery another hour would find her.- . y entrance, however, partially aroused the deso- late girl. She looked up with alarm in every feature, gazed at meirresolutely a moment, and then frantic ' ally clasping the body of her murdered parent, +} shrunk from my approach. The negro womei / |© | clustered around her, their lamentations stilled by 7 | their fears. ‘*“You are free—thank God!" said I,in a voica — husky with emotion, ‘the murderers of your parent i are avenged.” The terrifled girl looked at me with an expression which I shall never forget—an expression in whic): agony, joy, and doubt were all mingled into one—. and then, pressing the cold body of that old ma close to her bosom, she burst into a flood of tears; while her slaves, reassured by my wo resume), their noisy grief. I knew that the tears of the ago- nized daughter would relieve her grief, and respect-. | ing — sacredness of her sorrow, I withdrew to thy, _ | eck, ¥ Meantime, one of the crew of the brig who had ‘ t managed to secrete himself from the penton anc’ | had thus escaped the massacre which befell indi; | __ } criminately his messmates, had come forth from hi 4 ; hiding-place, and related the story of their capture. I will give it, adding other matters in their place, as T learnt them subsequently from the inmates of the eabin. The brig was a coaster, and left Havana a. few days before, having for passengers an Englis):. entleman of large fortune with his daughter a1 } Ce personal slaves. Sew ie been becalmed the | . \ é lee of the neighboring eir Pore on deck until a late hour, the» .. receding evening under t land, an as the night was a fine one, | sengers had remain ) daughter of Mr. Neville amusing herself with sing: | ing to her own guitar, or listening to the rud but yet dulcet music of had descended to the cabin, but, within a few min~ utes of their retirement, a large crank boat, pulled | by some twenty armed piratical ruffians, had beer seen coming toward the brig. The feeble thoug?. | heh her slaves. Atlength they . desperate resistance made by the crew of a halt- dozen men, was soon overcome. Mr. Neville hac. headed the combat, and, when the ruffians gained ssession of the deck, had retreated to the cabin, arricading the entrance on the insid pirates, headed by their leader, although baffled fur awhile, had eventually broke through this defense and poured into the cabin, but not until several of their number had been wounded vy the desperate? : parent, who, fighting like a lion at bay, had eve. fired through ¢he door on his assailants’ after they e. But the
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de on a small island, some leagues north o where we captured the ssail to be admirably fort had shattered it, and before it was finally broken in. At length the ruftians had gained an entrance; and a dozen swords were leveled at Mr. Neville, who still endeavored to shield his daughter. He fell— and God knows what would have been the fate of that innocent girl, if we had not at the instant reached the brig. The ruffian leader was forced to leave his prey and hasten on deck. The reader knows the rest. When morni dawned we were still abreast of theisland. By this time, however, a light breeze had sprung up, and the schooner had been brought to ander the quarter of The Arrow. Mysuperior heard with emotion of the death of his lieutenant, and ex- ssed the determination of carrying the pirates ‘into the neighboring port at once, and delivering them up for trial. He gave up his own cabin tem- ‘porarily to the afflicted daughter, and sympathized with her sorrow, as if she had been his own child. "The remains of her parent were not consigned to the deep, but allotted, on the following day, a place in onsecrated ground. But I pass over the events im- mediately succeeding the capture of the pirates. Suffice it to say that, after a delay of three or four days in ata we found it would be impossible to have the pirates brought to trial by the tardy authorities undera month. As my presence was deemed neces- rng 4 on that event, and as my superior was unwilling to delay his cruise for so long a period, it was deter- mined then that The Arrow should pursue her voy- ze, calling at the port to take me up in the course & month or six weeks. The next day after this arrangement, she sailed. CHAPTER V. .THE EXPEDITION TO THE PIRATE'S STRONGHOLD. ‘Ir was a melancholy day when the body of the wmturdered Mr. Neville was deposited in the burial- “ground of the port of ——; and if strangers shed tears at his funeral, what must have been the emotions of ‘this orphaned daughter! All that kindness could do, however, was done to alleviate her grief; her friends e«rowded around her to offer consolation; and even our hardy tars showed their sympathy for her by snore than one act. It was a fortunate occurrence ‘that she had a relative in town, and in his family yest rey, she took up her residence, where she could indulge her sorrow on the bosoms of those who were united by natural ties, and could sympa- thize with her the more sincerely because they knew ‘tae worth of which she had been deprived. It is one of tae wisest dispensations of Providence that our grief should be shared and, as it were, soothed by hose we love. Tae pirates had no sooner been committed to ‘prison, than endeavors were made, on the part of the authorities, to ascertain the haunt of the gang; for its depredations had been carried on to an ex- tent that left no doubt that the prisoners formed only a detachment to a larger body, which, dividing dato different parties, preyed on the commerce of the surrounding islands from as many different points. Where the head-quarters of the pirates were hell was, however, unknown; as any attempt to discover them, or even to capture any of the gang had hita- erto proved abortive. The authorities were, there- fore, anxious to get one or more of the prisoners “o veveal the retreat of their messmates on a promise of pardon; but for some time their efforts were unavailing, as each agen yy knew, that if any of the gang escaped, the life of a traitor would not be worth a moment’s parcieee. At length, how- aver, the temptations held out to two of the prison- ers proved irresistible and they revealed the secret which the Governor-general was so anxious to know. The head-quarters of the pirates proved to the spot risoners. The place was ed by nature, and there ‘was no doubt, from the prisoners’ confession, that “ert had been called in to render the retreat im- sreznable. The number of the pirates usually left behind to protest their head-quarters was said to amount to a vonsiderable force. Notwithstanding these things, the Governor-general resolved on sending a secret orp? lion to carry the place, and, if possible, maks pris>aers of the whole nest of freebooters. As, how- ever, the spies of the gang were known to infest the town, it was necessary to carry on the preparations for the expedition with the utmost caution, so that no intelligence of the contemplated attack should yeaca the pirates to warn them of their danger. While, therefore, the authorities were apparently occupied with the approaching trial to the exclusion of everything else, they were, in fact, secretly mak- ing the most active exertions to fit out an expedi- tion for the purpose of breaking up the hauntsof the gang, Saveral vessels were purchased, ostensi- ‘bly for private purposes; and soldiers drafted into ‘them under the cloud of night. The vessel sthen left the harbor, cleared for various ports, with the un- derstanding, however, that they should all rendez- vous on an se essere oe ata cape a few leagues distant from the retreat of the pirates. So adroitl was the affair managed, that the various vessels composing the expedition left the port unsuspected —even high officers of Government, who were not -admitted to the secret, Sted them merely as merchantmen departing on their several voyages. Indeed, had an attack been contemplated on a hostile power, the preparations could not have been more secret or comprehensive. The almost incredi- ble strength of the piratical force rendered such precautions, however, not only desirable but neces- I was among the few admitted to the secret, for the Governor-general did me the honor to consult me on several important particulars respecting the «xpedition. "Tired of the life of inactivity I was t The Young Privateer. leading, and anxious to see the end of the adven- ture, 1 offered to accompany the enterprise as a ae ae offer whic excellency gladly ac- cepted. e set sail in a trim little brig, disguised as a merchantman; but as soon as morning dawned, and we had gained an offing, we threw off our disguise, and presented an.armament of six guns on a side, with a proportionable number of men. Our craft, indeed, was the heaviest one belonging to the expe- dition, and all on board, acquainted with her destina- tion, were sanguine of success, The wind proved favorable, and in less than forty- eight hours we made Cape del Istri, where the four vessels composing the expedition were to rendez- vous. As we approached the promontory, we dis- covered one after another of the little fleet, for as we had been the last to leave port, our consorts had naturally first reached the rendezvous, and in a few minutes we hove to in the center of the squadron, hoisting a signal for the respective captains to come aboard, to consult respecting the attack. The den of the pirates was situated at the head of a narrow strait, communicating with a lagoon of some extent, formed by the waters of a river col- lecting in the hollow of three hills, before they dis- charged themselves into the sea. Across the mouth of the lagoon was moored the hull of a dismasted ship, in such a position that her broadside com- manded the entrance to the lake. Behind, the huts of the piratical settlement stretched along the shore, while the various vessels of the freebooters lay an- chored in different positions in the lagoon. Such, at least, we were told, was the appearance of the place when the pirates were not absent on their ex- peditions. Our plan of attack was soon arranged. It was determined to divide our forces into two divisions, so that while one anf should attack the pirates in front, the other should take a more circuitous path, and penetrating by land to the back of the settle- ment, take the enemy in the rear. As night was already closing in, it was determined to disembark the latter party at once, so that it might proceed, under the guidance of one of the prisoners, to the position behind the enemy, and reach there, as near as possible, at the first dawn of day. It was ar- ra that the attack by water should commence an hour or two before day. By this means each party could reach its point of attack almost simul- taneously. The onset, however, was to be first made from the water side, and the ambuscade in the rear of the foe was not to show itself until the fight had made some pyeeees on our side. The men destined for the land service were ac- cordingly mustered and set ashore, under the guid- ance of one of the prisoners. We watched their receding forms through the twilight until they were lost to view, when we sought our hammocks for a few hours’ repose preparatory to what might be our last combat. The night was ie young, however, when we en- tered the north of the strait, and with a favorable breeze sailed along up toward the lagoon. The shallowness of the water in the channel had com- pelled us to leave our two larger craft behind and our forces were consequently crowded into the re- maining vessels. Neither of these carried a broad- side of weight sufficient to cope with that of the hull moored across the mouth of the lagoon. As we advanced up the strait a deathlike stillness rested on its shadowy shores; and we had nearly reached the mouth of the lagoon before any sign betokened that the pirates were aware of our ~ 4 roach. We could just catch sight of the tall, rak- h masts of a schooner over the low treetops on the right, when a gun was heard in the direction of the lagoon, whether accidentally fired or not we could not tell. We listened attentively for a repeti- tion of the sound; but it came not. Could it have been a careless discharge from our own friends in the rear of our foe, or was it a warning fired by one of the pirates’ sentinels. Five or ten minutes elapsed, however, and all was silent. Meantime our vessels with a wind free over the taffrail, were a almost noiselessly along the smooth sur- face of the strait; while the men, lying close at their quarters, fully armed for the combat, breath- lessly awaited the moment of attack, the intense- ness of their exeitement increasing as the period pe ee ages y own emotions I will not attempt to portray. We were already within a cable’s length of the end of the strait, and in rounding to into the lagoon, we would, if our pe ptm had been detected, have to run the gantlet of the broadside of the craft guard- ing this approach to the pirate’s den—a broadside, which, if well delivered, would in all probabilit send us to the bottom. Our peril was indeed immi- nent. And the uncertainty whether our gpa had been detected or not created a feeling of nerv- ceed suspense which increased our sensation of our eril. “‘A minute more, and we shall shoot by the pirate,’’ said I to the captain of our craft. ““Ay!” said he, “I have just passed the word for the men to lie down under the shelter of the bul- warks, so that if they pour a fire of musketry into us, we shall escape it as much as possible. Let us follow their example.” We sheltered ourselves just forward ofthe wheel- house, so that as the vessel came around on the starboard tack, no living individual was left stand- ing on the deck, except the helmsman. The next moment, leaving the shelter of the high bank, we swept into the lagoon, and saw the dark hull of the opposing vessel moored directly across our way. ur suspense, however, was brought to a Close. | We had scarcely come abreast of the enemy’s broad- | side when, as if by magic, her port-holes were thrown open, and as the blaze of the battle-lanterns streamed across the night, her guns were run out, and instan- taneously her fire was poured out from stem to stern in one continuous sheet of flame. Our main- mast went at once by the board; our hull was fear- fully cut up; and the shrieks of the wounded of our crew rose up in terrible discord as the roar of the broadside died away. But we still had headway. Springing to his feet, the captain shouted to cut away the hamper that dragged the mainmast by our side. His orders were instantly obeyed. The schooner was once more headed for the hulk, and with a loud cheer our men sprung to their guns, while our con- sort behind opened her fire at the same moment. Our light armament, however, was almost wholly ineffi- cient. But happily we had not relied on it. a Lay her aboerd !”’ shouted the captain; ** boarders away!” At that word, amid the fire of a renewed broedside, we dashed up to the foe, and running her afoul just abaft of the mizzen-chains, poured our exasperated men like a torrent upon her decks. I was one of the first to mount her bulwarks. Attacked thus at their very guns, the piratcs rallied desperately to the de- fense, and a furious combat ensued. I remember striking eagerly for a moment or two in the very thickest of the fight, and then feeling a sharp pain in my side as a pistol went off beside me. ig faint recollection of sinking to the deck, but after that all is a void. CHAPTER VI. THE CONFLICT AND VICTORY. WueEn I recovered my senses, after the events nar- rated in the last chapter, I found that I was lying in the cabin of the schooner on board which I had been serving, while a group composed of the three surgeons and several officers of the expedition stood around me. As lopened my eyes and glanced arounti,scarce conscious as yet of the objects that met my gaze, one of the men bent over me and said that my safet depended on my quiet. Gradually I imbibed the full meaning of his words, and called to mind the events immediately preceding my fall; but, in spite of his charge, I felt an uncontrollable desire to learn the extent of my injury. Ina low whisper—so low in- deed that I was startled at its faintness—I asked if I was seriously wounded, and whether we had con- quered, But he smiled as he replied: “Not now, at least not in full, for forbids it. but the danger is over, e ball has been extracted, Quiet is all you now require.” “But,” said I again, “how of our expedition? Have we conquered?” “We have, but not a word more now. To-mor- row you shall bear all. Gentlemen,” he continued, turning to the group, “we had best withdraw now that our friend is past the crisis. He needs repose.” I felt the wisdcm of this advice, for my brain was already whirling from the attempt to control my thoughts, even for the mere purpose of asking the questions necessary to satisfy my curiosity; so when the group left the cabin I sunk back on my couch, end closing my eyes with a sense of relief, soon lost ail recollection in a deep sleep, the effect, no doubt, of the opiate which had been administered to me. When I awoke, the morning breeze was blowing freshly through the cabin, bringing with it the odors of thousands of aromatic plants from the shores of the netcbborilg islands, and asit wantoned across my forehead, dallying with my hair and imparting a délicious coolness to the skin, I felt an invigorating, pleasurable sensation—a sensation of the most ex- quisite delight—such as no one can imagine who has not felt the cool breath of morning after an illness in the close cabin of a small schooner. My curiosity to hear the events of the combat that occurred after my fall, would not suffer me to rest and I vane my attendants no peace until I had learned the whole. It will be recollected that when I sunk to the deck in a state of insensibility, we were engaged in a warm contest with the piratical hulk which had been moored across the mouth of the outlet from the lagoon. The fight was maintained for some time on board of the enemy, and at first with vary- ing success; but the daring of our men at last over- eame the desperate resistance of the pirates, and the enemy were either driven below, cut down, or forced overboard. This outwork, as it were, havin thus been carried, we pushed on to the settlemen itself, for the other vessels moored in the lagoon were now deserted, the pirates having retreated to a for- tification on the shore, where their whole force could act together, and where they had intrenched them- selves, as they ray imagined, in an impregnable osition. But our brave fellows were not intimi- dated. Flushed with success, and burning to re- venge those of their comrades who had already fal- len, they cried out to be led against the desperadoes. Accordingly, under cover of the guns of our lit- tle fleet, the men were landed, and, while a brisk fire was kept up from the vessels, the assault was made, At first the pirates stood manfully to their poets, pouring in a deadly and unremitting fire on he assailants. In vain did the officers lead on their men three several times to the assault, for three sev- eral times were they driven back by the rattling fire of the now desperate pirates. To increase the peril of their situation, no sign of their companions in the rear had as yet appeared. The ruffians were already cheering in antic Jee of a speedy victory, and our men, although still burning for vengeance, were be- ginning to lose all hope of victory, when the long-ex- pected rocket, announcing the arrival of the other party. shot up from the dense thicket in the rear of he fort, and instantaneously a crashing volley burst from the same quarter, followed by a_ long, loud’ cheer in which was recognized the battle-shout of our comrades. The sounds shivered to the very our weakness ‘
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ee hearts of our almost dispirited men, and added new energy to their souls, and fresh vigor to their arms. Again they demanded to be led to the as- sault, and, with fixed bayonets, following their lead- er, they dashed up to the very embrasures of the fort. Then began a slaughter so terrific that the ol ‘est veterans assured me they had never witnessed the like. Through an impervious vail of smoke, amid planeine balls and rattling grape-shot, our allant fellows swept over the plain, through the itch, up the embankment, andinto the very heart of the fortification. At the mouth of their guns they metithe pirates, bearing them bodily back- ward at the point of the bayonet. But if the on- slaught was determined the resistance was desper- ate. Every step we advanced was over the dead bodies of the foemen. teal ge 2 away their mus- kets they betook themselves to their pikes and cut- lasses, and though forced to retreat_by our over- whelming numbers, retreating sullenly, like a lion at bay, they marked their path with the blood of their assailants. Meanwhile the detachment of our troops in the rear, finding the defenses in that quar- ter weaker than those in front, soon carried the in- trenchments, and driving before it as well the im- mediate defenders of the walls, as the desperadoes who had hurried to reinforce them, it advanced with loud cheers to meet us in the center of the fortifica- tion. Hemmed in thus on every side, the pirates saw that further resistance was useless, and were seized with a sudden panic. Some threw down their arms and cried for quarter, others cast themselves in despair on our bayonets, while a few, managing to escape by cutting their way through a part of our line, took the swamps in the rear of the fort, whither they defied pursuit. In less than an hour from the first assault, not a pirate was left at large within the precincts of the settlement. The huts were given to the flames, and the hulk at the outlet of the lagoon, scuttled and sunk. The other vessels were manned Lg our own forces, and carried away as trophies. us was destroyed one of the most noted piratical haunts since the days of the Bucca- neers. We learned from the dee igg p0 that the approach of the expedition had been detected while it was yet an hour’s sail from the settlement, and that pre- parations had been made for our repulse. Had we not been under a misapprehension as to the strength’ of those desperadoes, and thus been induced to take with us more than double the force we should other- wise have employed, their efforts would no doubt have been successful, since the almost impregnable nature of their defenses enabled them to withstand the assault as a force four times the number of their own, It was only the opportune arrival of our comrades, and the surpcee which they effected in their quarter of attack, that gave us the victory after all. As it was, our loss was terrible. We had ae this curse of society, but at what a price The wound which I had received was at first thought to be mortal, but after the extraction of the ball my case assumed a more favorable aspect. The crisis of my fate was looked for with anxiety by my comrades in arms. My return to conscious- ness found them, as I have described, watching that event at my bedside. Our voyage was soon completed, and we entered the port of——amid the salvos of the batteries, and the merry peals of the various convent bells. The Gov- ernor came to the fleet, almost before we had dropped our anchors, and bestowed rewards on the spot on those of his ae who had peculiarly dis- tinguished themselves. He came at once to my cot and would have carried me home to the governmen house, but Mr. Neville, the uncle of the fair girl whom I had saved from the desperadoes, having at- tended his excellency on board, insisted that I should accept the hospitalities of his home. ‘* Well,” said his excellency, with a meaning smile “T must give him up, for, as you say, mine is but a bachelor establishment, and hired nurses, however good, do not equal those who are actuated by grati- tude. But I must insist that my own physician shall attend him.” I was still too weak totake any part in this con- Sage & and although I made at first a feeble objec- tion to trespassing upon Mr. Neville’s kindness, he only ‘smiled in reply, and I found myself, in less than an hour, borne to his residence, without having an opportunity to expostulate. CHAPTER VII. CONVALESCING AND BEING LOVED, Waar a relief it is, when suffering with illness, to be transported from a close, dirty cabin to a large room and tidy accommodations! How soothing to a sick man are those thousand little conveniences and delicacies which oor the hand of a woman can supply and from which the sufferer on shipboard is de ed! The well-aired bed-linen; the clean and tidy apartment; the flowers’ laced on the stand opposite the bed; the green jalousies left half-open to admit the cooling breeze; the delicious rose-water sprinkled around the room, and giving it an aroma- c fragrance; and the orange or tamarind, or other delicacy «ver ready within reach to cool the fevered mouth, and remind you of the ceaseless care which thus anticipates your every want. All these, and even more, attested the kindness of my host’s family. Yet every thing was done in so unobtrusive @ manner that for a long while, I was ignorant to whom I was indebted for this care. I saw no one but the nurse. the hep nee and Mr, and Mrs. Neville. But I could not help fancying that there were others who some- times visited my sick chamber, although as yet I had never been able to detect them, except by the fresh flowers which they left every morning as evidence of their presence. More than once on suddenly The Young Privateer. sleep, I fancied I heard a light ehind my bed, and once I dis- tinguished the tone of a low, sweet voice, which sounded on my ear, tired as it was of the grating accents of the nurse, like music from Paradise. Often, too, I heard, through the half open blinds that concealed the entrance to a neighboring room, the sounds of a harp accompanied by a female voice; and, at such times, keeping my eyes closed lest I should be thought awake, and the singer thus be induced to stop, I have listened until my soul seemed fairly ‘‘lappedin Elysium.” The memory of that ample apartment, with its spotless curtains and counterpanes, and the wind blowing freshly through the open jalousies, is as vivid in my memo- to-day as it was in the hour when I lay there listening to what seemed the seraphic music of that unseen performer. I hear yet that voice, so soft and yet so silvery, now rising clear as the note of a lark and now sinking into a melody as liquid as that of the flowing water, om ever in all its variations sweet, and full, and enrapturing. Such a voice I used to dream of in childhood as belonging to the angels in heaven. Our dreams are not always wrong. At ngth I was sufficiently recruited in strength, to be able to sit up, and I shall ever remember the delicious emotions of the hour when I first took a seat by the casement and looked out into agarden then fragrant with the dew of the early morning, 1 saw the blue sky smiling overhead, I heard the low plashing of a fountain in front of my window, I in- aled the delicate perfume wafted to me by the re- freshing breeze, and as I sat there, my soul ran over, as it were, with its exceeding gladness, and I almost joined my voice, from very ecstasy, with that of the birds who hopped from twig to twig, earoling their morning songs. As I sat thus looking out, [heard a light footstep on the gravel walk with- out, and directly the light, airy form of a young girl emerged from a secluded walk of the garden, full in my view. As she came opposite my window she looked up as if inadvertently, for, catching my eye, she blushed deeply and cast her gaze on the und, In a moment, however, she recovered herself, and advanced in the direction she had been pursuing. The first glance at the face had revealed to me the countenance of her I had been instrumental in res- cuing from the pirates. My apartment, like all those on the island, was on the ground floor, and when Miss Neville appeared she was already within a few feetof me. I rose and bowed, and noticing that she yeasty bunch of newly gathered flowers in her hand, said: “Tt is your taste, then, Miss Neville, which has filled the vasein my room every morning with its flowers. You can not know how thankful I am. Ah! would that all knew with what delight a sick person gazes on flowers.” She blushed again, and extending the bouquet to me, said, with something of gayety: Tlittle thought you would be up Me much less at so early an hour, or perhaps I might not have gathered your flowers. ince you can gaze on them from your window, they will be less attractive pe you when severed, like these, from their parent stem.”’ ** No—never,’’ I answered, warmly, ‘indeed your undeserved kindness, and that of your uncle and aunt, I can never forget.”’ She looked at me in silence with her large, full eye a moment ere she replied, andI could see that they grew humid as she gazed. Her voice, too, softened and sunk almost to a whisper when at length she spoke. ‘“Undeserved kindness! And can we ever forget,” she said, ‘‘ what we owe to you?” The words, as well as the gentle tone of reproof in which they were spoken, embarrassed me for a moment, and my eyes fell beneath her gaze. As if unwilling further to trust her emotion, she turned hastily as she finished. When I looked up, she was one. d We met daily after this. The ennué of a convales- cent made me look forward to the time she spent with me, asif it constituted my whole day. Cer- tainly the room seemed less cheerful after her de- parture. Often would I read while she sat sewing. At other times we indulged in conversation, and I found Miss Neville’s information on general subjects so extensive as sometimes to put me to the blush, She had read vot only the best authors of our own language, but also those of France, and her remarks proved that she thought while she read. She wasa passionate admirer of music, and herself a finished rformer. For all that was beautiful in nature she adaneyeand soul. There was a dash of gayety in her dispositio ore perhaps, her , neo character was sedate, and late events had if any- thing increased its prominent trait. Her tendency to a gentle melancholy—if I may use the phrase— was perceptible in her choice of favorite songs. More than once, when listening to the simple bal- lads she delighted to sing, have I caught the tears rolling down my cheeks, so unconsciously had I been subdued by the pathos of her voice and song. In a few days I was sufficiently convalescent to leave my room, and thenceforth I established myself in the one from which I had heard the mysterious music. This apartment proved to be a sort of boudoir appropriated to the use of Miss Neville, and it was her performance on the harp that I heard during my sickness. Hers, too, had n the fi which I had seen once or twice flitting out of aight on my awaking from a fevered sleep. It is a dangerous thing when two young persons, of different sexes, are thrown together in daily inter- course, especially when one, from his very situatio’ is forced to depend on the other for the amusemen of hours that would otherwise hang heavily on him. awakeningefrom m fostetep retreating | should be a stranger to her tender care. God The peril is increased when either party is bound to the other by any real or fancied ties of gratitude. But during the first delicious fortnight of convales- cence, I was unconscious of this danger, and without taking any thought of the future, I gave myself wholly up to the enjoyment of the hour. For Neville I soon came to entertain a warm sentiment of regard, yet my feelings for her were of a far dif- ferent nature from those I entertained for Annette, Idid not, however, stop to analyze them, for I saw or thought I saw, that the pleasure I felt in Ellen’s society was mutual, and I inquired no further, Alas! it never entered into my thoughts to ask, whether while I contented myself with friendship, she might not be yielding to a warmer sentiment. Had I been more vain, perhaps this thought might have oc- curred tome. But I never imagined—blind fool that I was—that this constant intercourse betwixt us could endanger the peace of either. If I could, I would have coined my heart’s blood sooner than won the love which I could not return. Yet such was my destiny. My eyes were opened at length to the consequences of my indiscretion. We had been conversing one day of the expect- ed arrival of The Arrow, and I had spoken en- thusiastically of my profession, and, perhaps, ex- ressed some restlessness at the inactive life I was eading, when I noticed that Ellen sighed, looked more closely at her work, and remained silent for some time. At length she raised her eyes, however, and said: “How can you explain the passion which a sea- man entertains for his ship? One would think that your hearts indulged in no other sentiment than this engrossing one.”’ “You wrong us, indeed, Ellen,” I said, ‘‘ for no one_ has a warmer heart than the sailor. But we have shared so many dangers with our ship, and it has been to us so long almost our only world, os we learn to entertain a sort of passion for it, which, I confess, seems a miracle to others, but which to us is rfectly natural, I love the old Arrow with a sen- iment approaching to monomania, and yet I have many and dear friends whom I love none the less for this passion.” I saw that her bosom heaved quicker than usual at these words, and she plied her needle with increased velocity. Had I looked more narrowly, I might have seen the color faintly coming and going in her cheek, and almost heard her heart beating in the audible silence. But I was still blind to the cause of this emotion. By some unaccountable impulse, I was led to speak of a subject which I had always avoid- ed, though not intentionally—my early intimacy with Annette, and her subsequent rescue from the brig. Secure, as I thought, of the hoe aps of my listener, and carried away by my engrossing love for Annette, I dwelt on her story for some time, totally unconscious of the effect my words were pro~ ducing on Ellen. My infatuation on that peed = 3 seems now incredible. As I became more earnes with my subject, I noticed still less the growing agi- tation of my listener, and it was not until I was the midst of a sentence in which I paused for words to express the loveliness of Annette’s character, that I saw that Ellen was in tears, She was bending low over her work so as to conceal her agitation from my eye, but as I hesitated in my glowing description, a bright tear-drop fell on her lap. The truth broke on me like a flash of lightning. I saw it all as clear as by a noonday sun, and I wondered at my former blindness. I was stung to the heart by what I had just been saying, for what agony it must have caused my hearer! I felt my situation to be deeply embarrassing, and I broke short off in my sentence. After a moment, however, feeling that silence was more oppressive than anything else, I made a des- perate effort and said: “Ellen!” It was a single word, and one which I had ad- dressed to her a hundred times before; but — there was something in the tone in which I spoke it, that revealed what was passing in my she heard her name, the poor girl burst into a flood of tears, and covering her face with her hands she rushed from the room. She felt tha! her secret was disclosed. She loved one whose heart was given to another. That day I saw her no more, But her agony of mind could not have been greater than my own, There is no feeling more acute to a sensitive mind than the consciousness that we are beloved by one whom we esteem, but whose affection it is impossi- ble for us to requite. Oh! the bitter torture to re- flect that by this inability to return another's love, we are inflicting on them the sharpest of all disap- ointments, and perhaps imbittering their lives, ‘oint me out a being who is callous to such a feel- ing, and I will point you out a wretch who is un- worthy of the name of man. He who can triumph in the petty vanity of being loved by one for whom he entertains no return of affection, is worse than a fop or a fool—he isa scoundrel of the worst stamp. He deserves that his home should be un- cheered by & WoMAN’s smiles, that his dying hour ows! to her we are indebted for all the richest blessings and holiest emotions of our life. While we remem- ber that we drank in our life from a mother’s breast that we owed that life a thousand times afterward to a mother’s care—that the love of a sister or the deeper affection of a wife has cheered us through many a dark hour of despair, we can never join that a ge school which makes light of a woman’s truth, or follow those ees revilers who would sneer at a woman’s love. e green sod grows to-day over many a lovely, fragile being, who might still have been living but for the perfidy of our sex. There is no fiction in the oft-told pea of a broken heart. lt is, perhaps, consumption that finally destroys - mind, for, as:
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: The Young Privateer. DASS- ave weary are at rest. <8 | It is years since I have visited the grave of ELLEN, | and I never think of her fate without tears coming + into my eyes. ! Isaid I saw her no more that day. When I de- {| scended to the breakfast table on the following morninz, [ looked around, and, not beholding her, was on bae posat of inquiring if she was ill; but, at the instant, the door opened and one of my old mess- mates Fhe announcing to me that The Arrow ‘ee was inthe offing, where she awaited me—he having been dispatched with a boat to bring me on board. As there was little preneranian necessary before I was ready to set forth. y traps had been already dis- f tched, when I stood in the hall to take leave of the ' ‘amily. My thoughts, at this moment, recurred again ' _. to Ellen, and I was, a second time, on the point of asking for her, when she appgared. I noticed that she looked pale, and I thought seemed asif she had been weeping. Her aunt said: i “T knew Ellen had a violent headache, but when I found that you were going, Mr Cavendish, I thought she could come down for a last adieu.” ; I bowed, and taking Miss Neville’s hand, raised it to my lips. None there were acquainted with our secret, but ourselves, yet I felt as if every eye was H on me, and frem the nervous trembling of Ellen’s fingers, I knew that her agitation was greater than | ’ my own. ’ Hs **God bless you, dear Miss Neville,’ I said, and in ' spite of my efforts, my voice quivered, ‘“‘and may j your days be long and happy.” ‘ As I dropped her hand, I raised my eyes a moment to her face. That look of mute thankfulness, and et of mournful sorrow, I never shall forget. I felt hat she saw and appreciated my situation, and that { even thus her love was made evident. If I had ' doubted, her words would have relieved me, ; * Warewell!”’ she said, in a voice so low that no one | heard it but myself. “Ido not blame you. God be f with you!” The tears gushed to her eyes, and my own heart was full to overflowing. I hastily waved my hand— for I had already taken leave of the rest—sprung in- to the carriage, rode in silence to the quay, and throwing myself into the stern sheets of the barge, sat wrapt in my own emotions, and without speakin q oh a word, until we reached the ship. Taat night : early ae Sy my hammock; and there prayed earn- estly for Ellen. CHAPTER VIII. H ELLEN NEVILLE—THE TRAGEDY OF DEATH. It was a short six months after my departure from Mr. Neville’s hospitable mansion, when we came to anchor again in the port, with a couple of rich izes, which we had taken a short time before in he Gulf Stream, The first intelligence I heard on landing, was that Miss Neville was said to be dying of consumption. Need I say that a pang of keenest a agony shot through my heart? A something whis- 4 pered to me that I was the cause, at least partially. } of allthis, With a faltering tongue I inquired the ef rticulars. They were soon told. I subsequently rned more, and shall conceal nothing. From the day when I left —~, the health of { Ellen had begun gradually todroop. At first her friends noticed only that she was less gay than usual, and once or twice they alluded jestingly to me as the secret of her loss of spirits. But when the ex- pression of agony, which at such times would flit _ acro.s her face, was noticed, her friends ceased their a allusions. Meanwhile her health began sensibly to be affected. She ate little. She slept in fitful dozes. No amusement could drive away the settled de- pone which seemed to brood upon her spirits. er friends resorted to every thing to divert her | mind, but allwasin vain. With a sad, sweet smile, f she shook herhead at their efforts, as if she felt p that they could do nothing to reach her malady. { At length she caughta slight cold. She was of a northern constitution, and when this cold was fol- lowed by a permanent cough, her friends trembled ; lest it foreboded the presence of that disease which ‘ annually sweeps off its thousands of the beautiful v and gay. Nor were they long in doubt. Their | worst fears were realized. Consumption had fixed its iron clutch on her heart, and was already tug- ng at its life-strings, The worm was gnaw at f the core of the flower and the next rough blast would sweep it from the stalk. As day by day e passed, she w nearer to the grave. Her eye grew sunken, but an unnatural luster gleamed from its depths—the hectic flush blazed on her cheek—and f that dry, hacking cough, which so tortures the con- _ sumptive, while it snaps chord after chord of life, j hourly grew worse. Pew, At an early period of Ellen’s illness, Mrs. Neville, who had been to the orphan girl a second mother, divined the secret of her niece’s mes. She did - not, however, urge her confidence on her charge, a but Ellen soon saw that her aunt knew all. There { . Was a meaning in herstudied avoidance of my name, which could not be mistaken. Ellen’s heart was won by this delicacy, until, one day, she revealed every thing. Mrs. Neville pressed her to her bosom at the close of the confession, and, though nothing 1ad been expecting hor arrival for several days, | was said, Ellen felt that the heart of her second mother bled for her. As death drew nearer, Eilen’s thoughts became gradually freed from this world. But she had still one earthly desire—she wished to see me before se died. Only to Mrs. Neville, however, was this desire | confided, and even then witout any expectation 10 that it could be gratified. When, wever, The Arrow stopped so opportunely in ——, her petitions became so urgent, that Mrs, Neville sent for me. With a sad heart I obeyed her summons. ‘The dear girl,”’ she said, when she met me in the anteroom, *‘ would not be denied, and, indeed, I had not the heart to refuse her. Oh! Mr. Cavendish, you will find her sadly changed. These are fearful triais which God, in his good providence, has called us to undergo,’’ and tears choked her further utterance. I was scarcely less affected. It would be a fruitless task in me to attempt to describe my emotions on entering the chamber of the dying girl. I have no recollection of the furni- ture of the room, save that it was distinguished by the exquisite neatness and taste which always char- acterized Ellen. My eyes roasted only on one object —the sufferer herself. She was reclining on a couch, her head propped up with pillows, and her right hand lying listlessly on the snowy counterpane. How transparent that hand seemed with the blue veins so distinctly seen through the skin, that you could almost mark the pulsation of the blood beneath! But it was her countenance which most startled. me. When I last saw her—save at that one parting interview—her mild blue orbs smiled with a sunniness that spoke the joy of a young aud happy heart. Now the wild hectic of consumption blazed on her cheek, and her | eyes had a brilliancy and luster that were not of earth. Then, her rich, golden tresses floated in wav curls across her shoulders—now, that beautiful hair was gathered up under the close-fitting cap which she wore. health—alas! nowit was pale and attenuated. But in place of her faded loveliness had come a more glorious beauty; and the glad smile of old had given way to one of seraphic sweetness. When she ex- tended her wan hand toward me, and sy ok2 in that unrivaled voice which, though feeble, was like the symphony of an A®olian harp, it seemed, to my ex- clied fancy, as if an angel from heaven had wel- comed me to her side. “This is a sad meeting,” she said; for my emo- tions atthe sight of her changed aspect, would not permit me to speak— ‘‘but why grieve? It is all for the best. It might seem unmaidenly to some,” she continued, with a partial hesitation, while, if possible, a brighter ge deepened on her cheek, ‘for me thus to’send foryou; but I trust we know each other's hearts, and this is no time to bow to the formalities of life. I feel that I am dying.” “Say not so, dear Ellen,” I easped, while my frame shook with agony at the ruin I had brought about, “oh! say not so. You will yet recover. God has may happy years in store for you.” “No, no,”’ she said, touching ly, “this world is not for me; I am but a poor, bruised reed—it were better I were cast aside. But weep not, for oh! I meant not to upbraid you. No, never, even in my first agony, have I blamed you—and it was to tell you this that I prayed I might survive. Yes! dearest—for it cannot be wrong now to confess my love—I would not that you suppose I condemned you even in thought. You saved my life—and I loved you before I knew it myself. You weep—I know you do not despise me—had we met under better auspices, the result might have been—” here her voice choked with emotion—‘ might have | different.” I could only pressher hand. ‘‘ O is is bliss,’’ she murmured, after a pause. ‘ But as not so to be,” she added, in a moment, with a saddened tone, which cut me to the heart. ‘1 should love to see her of whom you speak—she is very beautiful, is she not? In heaven the angels are all beautiful.’ Her mind wandered. “I have heard their music for days, and nag day it is clearer and lovelier. Hear!” and with her finger raised, her eye fixed on the air, and a rapt smile on her radiant countenance, she remained a moment silent, Tears fell from us like rain. But by-and-by her wandering senses returned, and a look of unuttera- ble woe passed over her face. Oh! how my heart bled! I know not what I said; I only know that I strove to soothe the dying moments of that sweet saint, so suffering, yet so forgiving. Alook of hap- piness once more lighted up her face, and witha sweet smile, she talked of happiness and heaven. As we thus communed our hearts were melted. Gradually her voice assumed a different tone, be- coming sweeter and more liquid at every word, while her eyes shone no longer with that fitfnl] luster, but beamed on me the full effulgence of her soul once more. “Raise me up,” she said. I passed my arm around her, and gently lifted her up. Her head re- on my shoulder, while her hand was still clasped in mine. She turned her blue eyes on me with a seraphic expression, such as only the sainted soulin its parting moment can embody, and whis- pered: “Oh! to die thus is sweet! Harry, dear Harry— God bless you! In heaven there is no sorrow,’’ and then, in incoherent sentences, she murmured of bright faces, and strange music, and glorious visions that were in the air. The dying musician said that he then knew more of God and nature than he ever knew before, and it may be that, as the soul leaves the body, we are gifted with a power to see things of which no mortal here can tell. Who knows? In our dying hour we shall learn. _ The grave of Ellen is now forgotten by all, save me. The grass has grown over it for long years. Then her face was bright with a glow of | ass But often, in the still watches of the night, I think 1 hear a celestial voice whispering in my ear; and, sometimes, in my dreams, I behold a face looking. as it were, from amid the stars; and that face, a pute in light, is as the face of that sainted girl. cannot believe that the dead return no more. CHAPTER IX. THE PRIVATEERS, I REMAINED but a short time in The Arrow after we sailed from the port of —-; for happening to fall in with and capturing a rakish fittie schooner, Captain Smyth resolved to arm and send her forth to cruise against the enemy on her own account, A long Tom was accordingly mounted on a pivot amid- ships, a complement of men piaced in her, and the command given to our second lieutenant, with my- selt for subordinate. Thus equipped, we parted company from our consort, who bore away for the north, while we were to cruise in the Windward Pas- sage. lor several days we met with no adventure, The weather was intensely sultry. Ee who has never witnessed a noon-tide calm on a tropical sea ean have no idea of the stifling heat of such a situation. The sea it like molten brass; no breath of air is stirring; the atmosphere is dry and parched in the mouth, and the heavens hang over their canopy of lurid fire, in the center of which burns with intense fierceness the meridian sun. The deck, the cabin, and the tops are alike stifling. The awnings may indeed afford a partial shelter from the vertical rays of the sun, but no breeze can be wooed down the eager windsail; while wherever a stray beam steals to the deck through an 6 ey 3 in the canvas, the turpentine oozes out and boils in the heat, and the planks become as intolerable to the tread as if a fur- nace were beneath them. It was on one of the hottest days of the season, and about a fortnight after we parted from The Arrow, * that we lay thus becalmed, The hour was high noon. I stood panting for breath by the weather railing, dressed in a thin jacket, and without a cravat, fever- ishly looking out across the ocean to discern, if pos- sible, a mist or cloud, or other evidence of an ap- proaching breeze. My watch was in vain. There was no ripple on the deep, but a long monotonous undulation heaved the surface of the water, which glittered far and near like a mirror in which the sun is reflected vertically, painting and almost blinding the gaze. The schooner lay motionless on the ocean, the shadow of her boom shivering in the wave, as the swell undulated along. Silence reigned on the decks. To a spectator at a distance, who could have a our a jonless | green je -an,¥ water, we would lave seemed an enchanted shi anging midwa betwixt the sea and sky. “i weiss v Noon passed, and the afternoon drew heavily along, yet still no breeze arose to gladden our listless spirits. wo bells struck, and then three, but the same monotony continued. Wearied out at length I was about turning from the weather quarter to go below, when I fancied I saw a sail far down on the horizon. I paused and looked intently in the direction where the welcome sight bad been visible. For a moment the glare of the sun and water prevented me from distinguishing with accuracy whether what I saw was really asail or not, but at length my doubts were removed by the cry of the lookout on the fore- castle, and before half an hour it became evident that the vessel to the windward was a square-rigged craft, but of what size or character it was impossible to determine. “They must have had a puff of wind up yonder,” remarked the second lieutenant to me, “ or else they could not have come within sight so rapidly.” “But the breeze has left them ere this,” I said, “* for they have not moved for the last quarter of an “We shall probably know nothing more of them until nightfall, for the wind will scarcely make be- fore sunset, evenif itdoesthen. He has the weather gauge, Until I know something more of him I would rather change positions,” ‘‘He is some fat merchantman,” I replied; “we will lighten his plethoric pocket before morning.” During the afternoon the calm continued, our craft and the stray sail occupying their relative positions. Meantime, innumerable were the conjectures which we hazarded as to the character of our neighbor; and again and again were our glasses in requisition to see if anything could be discovered to decide our conflicting opinions. But the royals of a ship, when pos else of her is visible, give scarcely any clew as to her character; and, weaaat our after hour passed away, and we were still altogether ignor- ant respecting the flag and strength of our neighbor. Toward sunset, however, signs of a coming breeze began to appear on the seaboard, and when the luminary wheeled his disk down the western line of the horizon, the sea to the windward was perceptibly ruffled by the wind, “ Ah! there it comes at last.” said the second lieu- tenant, ‘‘and,by my halidom, the stranger is standin for us. Now, if he will only keep his present min until we can get within range of him, I am no officer of the United Colonies if Ido not give him some hot work. By St. George, the men have had so little to do of late, and they long so eagerly to whet their palates, that I would venture to attack almost twice our force—eh? Cavendish! You have had such a dare-devil brush with the buccaneers lately, that I suppose you think no common enemy is worth a thought.” “Not altogether,” said I, “but I think we shall have our wish gratified. Yonder chap is certainly twice our size, and he carries his tovuatie as jauntily as a man-of-war.”’ “Faith! and you're right, Harry,” said my old messmate, as he shut the glass with a jerk, after
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having, in consequence of my last remark, taken a chantman to windward. But we'll swagger up to him, nevertheless; one doesn’t like to run away from the first ship he meets,” Tecould not help smiling when I thought of the excuses with which the lieutenant was endeavoring to justify to himself his contemplated attack on the craft that was not only twice our size, but appar- ently an armed cruiser, for I knew the case would have been the same if this had been the hundredth, instead of the first vessel he had met after assum- | ing a separate command, as no man in the corvette had been more notorious for the recklessness with which he inviied danger. fault of his character. I really believe he would, Perhaps this was the | if dared to it, have run into Portsmouth itself, and | fired on the British fleet at anchor, days, when we had been fellow-officers on board In our former | The Arrow, we bad often differed on this trait in his | character, and perhaps now he felt called on from a consciousness of my opinion, to make some ex- cuse to mé for his disregard of prudence in approach- ing the stranger; for, as soon as the breeze had made, he had close-hauled the schooner, and, during | the conversation I have recorded we were dashing rapidly up toward the approaching ship. As we drew nearer to the stranger, my worst sus- icions became realized. Her courses loomed up arge and ominous, and directly her hammock net- tings appeared, and then her ports opened to our view, six on a side; while, almost simultaneously with our discovery of her force, a roll of bunting shot up to her gaff, and unrolling, disclosed the | cross of St. George. There wasnow no escape. The enemy had the weather gauge, aid was almost with- in closing distance. However prudent a more wary approach might have been hitherto, there was no longer any reason for the exercise of caution. It would be impossible for us to avoid a combat, or get to windward by any manenver; and to have attempt- ed to escape by going off before the wind would have been maduess, since of all points of sailing that was the worst for our little craft. Gloomy, however, as the prospect appeared for us, there was no hesita- tion, but each man, as the drum called us to quarters, hurried to his post with as much alacrity as if we were about to engage an inferior force, instead of one so overwhelmingly our superior. The moon had by this time risen, and was calmly sailing on, far up in the blue ether, silvering tho deep with her gentle radiance, and showering a flood of sparkles on every billowy crest that rolled up and shivered in her light. Everywhere objects were discernible with as much distinctness as under the noonday sun. The breeze sung through our rigging, with a joyous sound, singularly pleasing after the silence and monotony of the day; and the waves that parted beneath our cutwater roll d glittering astern along our sides, while ever and anon some billow, larger than its fellows, broke over the bow, sending its foam crackling back to the foremast. Around the deck our men were gathered, each one beside his allotted gun, silently awaiting the mo- ment of attack. The cutJasses had been served out; the boarding-pikes and muskets were placed convenient for use; the balls had already been brought on deck, and we only waited for some de- - monstration on the part of the foe to open our maga- zine and commence the combal in earnest. At length, when we were rapidly closing with him, the enemy yawed, and directly a shot whistled high over us. “Too lofty, by far, old jackanapes,” said the cap- tain of our long Tom; “we'll pepper you after a different fashion when it comes to our turn to serve out the iron potatoes. Ah! the skipper’s tired of being silent,’’ he continued, as Mr. Vinton order- ed the veteran to discharge his favorite piece; “ we'll soon see who can play at chuckfarthin the best, my hearty. Bowse away, boys, with that rammer —now we have her in a line—a little lower, just a trifle more—that’s it—there she goes;” and as he applied the match, the flame streamed from the mouth of the gun, a sharp, quick report followed, and the smoke, clinging a moment around the piece in a white mass, broke into fragments and eddied away to leeward o . the gale; while the old veteran, stepping hastily aside, placed his hand over his eyes, and gazed after the shot, with an expression of intense curiosity stampted on every feature of his face. ee an exulting smile broke over his countenance, he foretopsail of the ship fell, the ball having hit the yard. “By the holy and true cross,” said a mercurial Irishman of the old veteran’s crew, “but he has it there—hurrah! Give it to him nately again—it’s the a a that catches the early worm.” “Home with the ball there, my hearties,” sun out the elated veteran; ‘“‘she yawing to le pnts at us—there it comes. Give her as good as she sends.” The enemy was still, however, at too great a dis- tance to render her fire dangerous, and after a third shot had been exchanged betwixt us—for the stran- er appeared to have, like ourselves, but a single ong gun of any weight—this distant and uncertain firing ceased, and both crafts drew steadily toward each other, determined to fight the combat as a gal- lant combat should be fought—yard-arm to yard- arm, The wind had now freshened considerably, and we made our way through the water at the rate of six knots an hour. This soon brought us on the bow of the foe. Our guns, meanwhile, had been hastily shifted from the starboard to the larboard side, so that our whole armament could be brought to bear at once on the ship. As we drew up toward the ene- my 2 profound silence reigned on our deck—each man as he stood at his gun, watching her with curious interest. long look at the strange sail, ‘‘ that’s no sleepy mer- | The Young Privateer. We could see that her decks were filled with defenders, and that marksmen had been posted in the tops to pick off our crew. But no eye quailed, no nerve flinched, as we looked on this formidable | array. We felt that nothing was left but to fight, since flight was alike dishonorable and impossible. At length we were within pistol-shot of the foe, and drawing close on to his bows. ment had come. That indefinable feeling which even a brave nan will feel when about engaging in a mortal combat, shot through our frames as we saw that our bowsprilt was over opine iuat of the enemy, and we knew that in another minute some of us would perhaps be in another world. But there was little time for such reflections now. The two vessels, each going on a different tack, rapid by each other, and, in less time than I have taken to describe it, we lay broadside to broadside, with our bows on the stern of the foe, and our taffrail op- posite his foremast. Until now not a word had been spoken on board either ship; but the moment the command to fire was passed from gun to gun, a sheet of flame instantaneously rolled along our sides, making our light craft quiver in every timber. The critical mo- | shot | apparently retreated below, At this instant, how- ever, a head appeared above the hatchway and in- stantly vanished, 1 was not long in doubt.as to the meaning of this strange conduct, for, almost imme- diately a score of armed men rushed up the hatch- way, and advancing toward us demanded our sur- render. I saw at once the dishonorable siratagem, Stung to madness by the perfidy of the enemy, I sprung back a few steps to my men, and rallyine them around me, bid the foe come on. They rushed instantly upon us, and in a moment we were eu- gaged in as desperate a melee as ever I had seen, “Stand fast, my brave lacs,” I cried, ii not an inch to the cowardly and perfidious villains,”’ “Cut him down ard sweep then from the decks,” cried the leader of the men, stung by the taunt of | cowardice. The | rending of timbers, the crash of spars, and the shrieks | of the wounded, heard over even the roar of battle, told us that the iron missiles had sped home, bear- ing destruction with them. A momentary pause ensued, as if the crew of the enemy had been thrown into a temporary disorder—and then came in return the broadside of the foe. Our men had lain flat on the deck after our discharge, since our low bulwarks afforded scarcely any protection against the fire of A brawny desperado at the words made a blew at me with his cutlass, but hastily warding it ¢; snatched a pistol from my belt, and flred at ny: - tagonist, who tell dead to the deck. The re | stant the combat became general. Man to 1. and foot to foot, we fought, desperately contest: every inch of deck, each party being conscious tl the struggle was one of life or death. The clash inj, of cutlasses, the crack of firearms, the oaths, U.o shouts, the bravado, the shrieks of the wounded, and the dull heavy fall of the dead on the deck, were the only sounds of which we were conscious | during that terrible melee, and these came to our | ears net in their usual distinctness, but mingled int» the enemy, and when, therefore, his broadside came | hurling upon us, the number of our wounded was far less than under other circumstances would have been possible. “Thank God! the first broadside is over,” I invol- untarily exclaimed, “ and we have the best of it.” “ Huzza! we'll whip him yet, my hearties,’’ shout- | ed the captain of the long Tom; “give it to him with a will now—pepper his supper well for him. Old Marblehead, atter all, against the world!”’ “Out with her—ay! there she has it,” shouted a grim veteran in my division; ‘down with the ras- cally Britisher.”’ one fearful and indescribable uproar, For myself, 1 scarcely heard the tumult, My whole being was oc- cupied in defending myself against a herculean rui- fian who seemed to have singled me out from my crew, and whom it required all my skill at my wea- pon to keep at bay. I saw nothing but the ferocious eye of my adversary; Theard only the quick rattle of our blades. I have said once before that my pro- ficiency at my weapon had passed into a proverb with my messmates, and had I not been such a master vf | my art, I should, on the present occasion, have falicn | a victim to my antagonist. “'Huzza for St, George,” came hoarsely back in | reply, as the roar of the gun died on the air, and, at | the words, a ball whizzed over my shoulders, and | striking a poor fellow behind me on the neck; cut the head olf at the shoulders, and while it bore the skull with it in its flight, left the headless trunk spouting its blood as if from the jet of an engine, over the decks. I turned away sickened from the sight. The messmates of the murdered man saw the horrid sight, but they said nothing, although the horriple energy with which they jerked out the gun, told the fierceness of their revengeful feelings. Well did their ball do its mission; for as the smoke eddied momentarily away from the decks of the enemy, I saw the missile dismount the gun which had fired the last deadly shot, Scattering the frag- ments wildly about, while the appalling shrieks which followed the accident told that more than one of the foe had suffered by that fatal ball. ‘We've revenged poor Jack, my lads,’ said the captain of the gun,—* away with her again. A few more such shots and the day’s our own.” The guns on either side were plied with fearful rapidity and precision, Our craft was beginning to be dreadfully cut up; we had received a shot in the foremast that threatened momentarily to bring it down, and at every discharge of the enemy’s guns one or more of our little crew fell wounded at his st. But if we suffered so severely it was evident hat we had our revenge on the foe. Already his mizzen-mast had gone by the board, and two of the uns were dismounted. I fancied once or twice hat his fire slackened, but the dense canopy of smoke that shrouded his decks and hung on the face of the water prevented me from observing, with any certainty, the full extent of the damage we had done to the enemy. For some minutes longer the conflict continued with unabated vigor on the part of our crew; but at the end of that period, the fire of the Englishman sensibly slackened. I could scarcely believe that our success had been so decisive, but, ina few min- utes longer, the guns of the enemy were altogether silenced, and directly afterward a voice hailed from him, saying that he had surrendered. ‘The announce- ment was met by a loud cheer from our brave tars, and, as the two vessels had now fallen a consider- able distance a , the second lieutenant deter- mined to send a boat on board to take possession. Accordingly, with a crew of about a dozen men, I pushed off from the sides of our battered craft. As we drew out of the smoke of the battle we be- an to see the real extent of the damage we had one. The ship of the enemy lay an almost perfect wreck on the water, her foremast and mizzen-mast having both fallen over her side; while her hull was pierced in a continuous line, just above water-mark with our balls. Here and there her bulwarks had been driven in, and her whole appearance betokened the accuracy of our aim. I turned to look at the schooner She was scarcely in a better condition for the foremast had by this time given way, an her whole larboard side was riddled with the enemy’s shot. A dark-red stream was pouring out from her scuppers, just abaft the mainmast. Alas! I well knew how terrible had been the slaughter in that particular spot. I turned my eyes from the melan- choly spectacle, and looked upward to the calm moon sailing in the clear azure sky far overhead. The placid countenance of the planet seemed to speak a Pee on the angry passions of man. A moment afterward we reached the a ge he: ship. — AsI moppes on deck I noticed that not one soli- tary indivi ual was to be seen. The whole crew had As it was, I received a sharp wound in the arm, and was 80 hotly pressed by my Vigorous foe that I was forced to give way. But this temporary triumph proved the destruction of my antagonist. Flushed with success, he forgot his wariness, and made a lunge at me which ieft him unprotected. JI moved quickly aside, and seizing my advantage, had buried my steel to his heart before his own sword had lost the impetus given to it by hisarm. As I drew out the reeking blade, I became aware, for the first time, of the wild tumult of sounds around me, A hasty glauce assured me that we barely maintained our ground, while several of my brave fellows lay on the deck wounded or dying; but before I could see whether the ranks of the foe had been equally thinned, and while yet scnreely an instant had passed since the fall of my ai. Luco- nist, a loud, clear huzza, swelilng over the cin of the conflict, rose at my side, and, turning guic'ly around, [saw to my joy that the shout proceeded from a dozen of our tars who had reached us at that moment in a boat from th schooner, In an instant they were on deck, “Down with the traitors—no quarter—hew them to the deck,” shouted our indignant messmates as they dashed on the assailants. But the enemy did not wait to try the issue of the combat. Seized with a sudden panic, they fled in all directions, a few jumping overboard, but most of them tumbling’ eadlong down the hatchways. We were now masters of the deck. As I instant] guessed, the report of the firearms had been hear on board the schooner, when, suspecting foul play, a boat had instantly pushed off to our rescue. “Your arrival was most opportune,” said I; “a few minutes later, and it would have been of no avail.’ And then as I ran my eye over our com- paratively gigantic foe, I could not restrain the re- mark: “It is a wonder to me how we conquered,” ‘Faith, and you may well say _ that,” hingly rejoined my messmate; ‘it will be something to talk of hereafter. But the schooner hasn't come off,” he added, glancing at our craft, “‘ without the marks of this fellow’s teeth. But I had forgot to ask who or what the rascal is,” The prize proved to be a privateer. She had re- ceived so many shots in her hull, and was already leaking so fast, that we concluded to remove the prisoners and blow her up. Her crew were accord- ingly ordered one by one on deck, handcuffed, and transported to the schooner, Then I laid a train, lighted it, and put off from the prize. Before I reached our craft—which by this time had been re- moved to some distance—the oy blew up. We rigged a jury-mast, and by its aid reached Charleston, where we refitted. Our capture re us no little reputation, and while we remained port we were lionized to our hearts’ convent. Eager, however, to continue the career so glor- iously be we staid at Charleston no longer than was abso utely necessary to repair our damages. In less than a fortnight we left the harbor, an sail again for the south, CHAPTER X. THE LEE-SHORE. “Ari hands ahoy!” rung through the ship, as the shrill whistle of the boatswain awoke me from a pleasant dream, I started, hastily, threw on my monkey-jacket, and in a minute was on deck. The winter sun had set clear, without a cloud to fleck the heavens, and when I went below at mid- night, leaving the starboard watch in possession of the deck, the cold, bright stars were out, twinklin in the frosty sky; while acapful of wind was send- ing us merrily along. Six bells had just struck as T phan | up the gangway, and the night was still clear above, but, ‘casting my eye hurriedly around,
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~ ie na aN SSE - : rp Spe nen . tt Teas asses . i2 LI sawa bank of mist, close on the starboard bow, driving rapidly for us, and covering sea and sky in that quarter, in a shadowy vail. The men were al- ready at theii posts, and as my watch came tumbling on deck, each member of it sprung to aid his mess- mates, so that in less time than I have taken to de- scribe it, we had got the light sails in and kept away the schooner a few points, and were ready to let every thing go by the run, if necessary, as soon as the Sora struck us. Nor did we wait long for the unwelcome visitor. Scarcely had our craft been mace snug before the squall burst on usin a whirl- wind of snow, hail, rain, and wind, against whose fury it was, for the moment, impossiblotostand. As the gale struck the schooner, she heeled over until her decks were fearfully inclined, whilo the tall masts bent Jike rushes in the tempest, and thespars strained and cracked as if they wero uneccl tothe torture. Fora moment I thought that all wes and clutching a rope I mada ready to s)zing to windward as soon as she should capsize; but efter a second of breathless uncertainty sho slightly recov- ered herself, and dashed forward as if she had been shot like an arrow from the bow, her whole forward art buried in the foam, that boiled around her ows, and flew high up the masts in showers. At this time the wind was shrieking through the ham- per with an intonation like that of a tortured fiend, while the hailand snow driving horizontally against the men fairly pinned them to their stations. The ropes soon became coated with ice, while the cold grew intense, so that it was with difficulty we could get the fore and mainsails reefed. At length, how- ever, we nog Fy her to the fight, when she rose until nearly level, bearing gallantly up egainst the ale. Meantime, the snow fell thiclc and fast, cover- I a ng the decks with its white carpeting, and dressing | the shrouds, booms, and the weather side of the masts in the garments of the grave. “Whew! what a flurry! Old’ Davy himself has laid hold of the bellows to-night,’ said the captain of the starboard watch, stooping before the gale and turning his back to windward; ‘‘ why it blows as if it would whiff our little craft away, like a feather be- fore it. By the gods, but that bucketful of hail that has just rattled on my shoulders was enough to have felled an ox. It must be as black as the ace of pion n to windward—hark! how the infernal sleet gs in the rigging. “How long was the squall coming up?” said I, as soon as the roar of the elements suffered me to 8 , for it was only in the occasional pauses of the fo. that L could hope to be heard, “Tt came up like a pet in a woman—one moment her face is all smiles, the next black as a thunder- cloud. When five bells struck, it wasas clear as a kitten’s eye, and now you can’t see a fathom over the starboard bow; while we are driving along here like a chip in a mill-race, or a land-bird caught by a nor’-wester. Whistle, whistle—howl, howl; why it blows as if the devil himself was working the bellows | up to windward.” could not help smiling at my messmate’s energy, and as he closed I looked thoughtlessly over the starboard quarter, when a wild dash of sleet right in my face, stinging as if ten thousand nettles had truck me, forced me to turn my back on the storm ore rapidly than I had faced it. “Tt is as sharp as a razor,’ I ejaculated, when I recovered my breath; ‘cuts to the bone. But let me see, Mr. Merrivale,” said I, approaching the binnacle, “this squall must be from the north-east. Ay! not a point either way. It’s a lucky thing we have a good a) . IL wouldn't be on the coast now for a year’s pay. Nit would be an ugly berth,” satd Merrivale, shak- ing the sleet from his hair. “I’ve no notion of being jammed up like a rat in a corner, with a lee-shore on one side, and a wind blowing great guns on the other, while one’s only chance is to hug the gale under a crowd of canvas that threatens to snip your masts off as I could apipe-stem. No, thank God! we're far at sea!” The words had scarcely left his mouth, and I was as yet unable to answer, when a strange, booming sound over the larboard bow, smote on my ear, through every nerve; while at the same instant, the look-out shouted, in sharp, quick tones: “ Breakers ahead!” For an instant there was an ominous silence, while even the tempest seemed to die momentarily away. Noone who has not heard that fearful cry on a lee-shore, when surrounded by darkness, can have any notion of our feelings. Each man held his breath, and turned his ear anxiously to leeward, In that awful second what varied emotions rushed through our minds, as we heard, rising distinctly over the partial lull of the tempest, the hoarse roar of the surf, apparently close under our lee. “ Port—a-port—jam her close to the wind,”’ almost shrieked Merrivale, the energy of his character in the moment of peril divesting him of his usual ye “ Port it is,” answered the man at the helm, as the sheets came rattling in and the schooner flew to the windward, shivering the opposing wave to atoms, and sending the foam crackling in showers over the forecastle. As she answered to her helm, we caught sight, ap be i the shado tempest, of the white breakers boiling under our lee; and an ejaculation of heartful gratitude broke involuntarily from my lips, when, a moment after I saw the ghastly line of foam glancing astern. 7 God!’ shouted Merrivale; ‘ another in- stant of delay and we should have struck. But how could we have made such a mistake in our reckon- ing? Where are we?”’ We are off the Jersey coast, somewhere between Egg Harbor and Barnegat,” I answered, “but I thought we were at least twenty leagues at sea. How ee a | staggered her hse 4 iY —-—— gallantly the old craft staggers to windward—she will yet weather the danger. The exertions of the schooner were indeed noble. With her nose close down to the tempest, and her masts bending before the fierce hurricane that whis- tled along her canvas, she thrashed her way to wind- ward, now doggedly climbing up an opposing billow, and now thumping through the héad sea, scattering the foam on either side her path, her timbers quiver- ing and groaning in the desperate encounter. One moment the plore wave whizzed along the side, glittering with ae brilliancy; and again, the wild spray went hissing by in the air, drenching the decks with water. Now, ah her bows, with the force of a dozen forge hammers, in her course; and now shaking the water proudly from her, she addressec herself again to her task and struggled up the wave. | Thus battling against sea, storm and hurricane, she ne on her way, like a strong man fighting through a bost. Every ofiicer as well as man was now on deck, and each one, fully sensible of our danger, watched with eager eyes through the gloom to distinguish whether we gained ground in our desperate encounter. For an instant, perhaps, as the darkness hid the breakers uge billow striking heron | from sight, or their roar came fainter to the ear in | the increasing fury of the gale, we would fancy that our distance from the surf was slowly increasing; but as often, when the gale lulled, or the darkness on our lee broke partially away, our hearts sunk with- in us at the conviction that our peril still continued as imminent as ever, and that the struggles of our gallant craft had been in vain. Meanwhile, the hur- | ill-fated ship ever reached us. | the hundreds who crowded her ceck ricane grew wilder and fiercer, and at length we saw | that we were losing ground. The schooner still battled with a spirit as undaunted as before against our com- bined enemies, but she Jabored more and more at every opposing wave, as if fast wearing out in the conflict. “We must crowd the canvas on her,” said the skipper, after a long and anxious gaze on the shore under the lee; from land, weshall all belost. Better, then, jerk the mast out of her in clawing off!’’ The order was accordingly given to take a reef out of the fore and main sail, and, after a desperate struggle with the canvas, the men succeeded in exe- cuting theinduty. When our craft felt the increased sail, she started nervously forward, burying herself so deeply in the head sea, that I feared she would never emerge, while every rope, shroud and timber in her cracked in the strain, Atlength, however, she rose from the surge, and rolled heavily to windward slowly shaking from her the tons of water that hac ressed on her decks and buried everything forward in the deluge. With another partial check, and an other desperate, but successful struggle, we breathed more freely. Yet there still came to our ears the swlen roar of the breakers on our lee, warning us that peril was yet imminent, “Hark!” suddenly said Merrivale; ‘‘ surely I heard acannon There is some craft nigh, even more dan gerously situated than ourselves.’ “ And there goes the flash!’ I exclaimed, pointing ahead, while simultaneously, the boom of a signal gun rose ‘on the night. ‘‘ God help them, they are driving on the breakers,’ I added, as another flash | ing man-of-war. lay, the ill-fated ship passed away in the darkness. under our lee, and the shrieks of her crew were lost in the uproar of the gale, I almost doubted whether what we had just beheld had been real, But a glance at the faces of my messmates dissipated my incre- dulity, for on every countenance was written the history of the few last moments of agonizing sus- pense. A profound silence, meanwhile, reigned on our decks, every eye being strained after the drown- At length Merrivale spoke: “Tt is a miracle how we escaped,” and then ina sadder tone he added, “the Lord have mercy on all on board yonder ship. But hark!” he suddénly ex- claimed, and a wild, thrilling cry, as if a hundred | voices had united in a shriek of agony, struggled up from leeward. Years have passed since then, and the heir that was once fair has now turned gray, but thai oy ful | sound yet rings in my ears, and often since wive I started from my sleep, faucying that I saw ueain that spectral ship flitting by through the gloom, or heard that ery of agony drowning, fur the moment, the raging tempest. Our bloou curdled at the sound, and we gazed in each other’s faces with horror on every line of countenance. Move than a minute elapsed before a word was said; and during the in- terval, we sought to catch a x petition of the cry, however faint; jut only the singing of the sieet through the hainper, the whistle of the huricane overhead, and the wild roar cf the breakers under our lee, came to our ears. No further token of that Not a living soul, of when she whirled across our course, landed on that coast. With all their sins on their heads, afar from those they loved and by whom they were loved in return, her crew went down into the deep, “unknelled, un- coffined, and unknown.” When that wintry storm had passed away, the timbers of a wreck were found strewing the inleos- | pitable shore, with here and there a dead body “if we strike out here, a mile at least | clinging to a fragment of a spar, but neither nan nor child survived to tell how agonizingly they strig- | gled against their fate, to practice the reformation , foretell our fate, had we struck amid this surf. which they had promised at their hour of bitter need. And when the summer sun came forth, kirs- ing the bright waters of the Atlantic, and childven laughingly gathered shells along the shore, who would have thought that, a few months before the heavens had looked down, in that very spct, on the wild perigee of the dying? But 7 pass on. At length that weary night wore away, and when morning dawned we saw the fill extent of the dan- ger we had escaped. All along the coast, at a Cis- tance of more than a mile from the shore, stretchcd a narrow shoal, over which the Lreakers were now boiling as in a maclstrom. It needed no prophet to No boat could have lived in thet raging sca, and our frail craft would have been racled to pieces in less than half an hour. Nothing but the energy of the skipper in crowding the canvas on the schooner, though at the imminent hazard of carrying away the ' masts, and thus insvring certain destruction, e1a- lit up, for amoment, the scene before us, revealing a | dismantled ship flying wildly before the tempest. “They are whirling down to us with the speed of a | racer—we shall strike!’’ ejaculated Merrivale. As he spoke, the shadowy ship emerged from the tempest of snow and sleet, not a pistol-shot from our bow. spectral craft. She had no mast remaining, except the stump of the mizzen. From her size we knew her to be asloop-of-war. So far as we could see through the obscurity, her decks were crowded with human beings,some apparently stupified,some in the attitude of supplication, and some giving way to uncontrolla- ble frenzy. As all power over her had been lost, she was driving directly before the tempest. The time Never shallI forget the appearance of that | that was consumed in these observations occupied | but an instant, for the darkness of the storm Way 80 | oom | dense that the eye could not penetrate the more than a few fathoms; and a period scarcely suf- ficient for a breath elapsed from the first discovery of the ship before we saw that ere another instant | she would come in contact with us. Already she was in fearful proximity to our bows. The danger was perceived by us and by the crew of the disman- tled a4 at the same moment, and a wild cry rose up which drowned even the frenzied tempest. scape seemed impossible. We were between two dangers, to one of which we must fall a prey. Our | only chance of avoiding the breakers was to pe our craft close to the wind, while, by so doing, a col- lision appeared inevitable. Yet a single chance re- mained. “Jam her up!” shouted the pl a catching at the only hope; ‘tay! hard down till she shivers!’ We held our breath for the second that ensued. So close had the ship approached that I could have pitched a biscuit on her decks. Her bowsprit al- y threatened to come in collision with our bows, | and involuntarily I grasped a rope, expecting the next instant to be at the mercy of the waves. On— on—she came, her huge hull, as it rose on the wave fearfully overtopping our own, and ky negra) a the first shock, to crush us. A second and der ery of agony burst from every lip, but, at that in- stant, she swerved, what seemed a hair’s breadth, to one side, her bowsprit grazed ours in passing, and she whirled by like a bird on the wing. The scene did not occupy a minute. So sudden had been the appearance of the ship, so imminent had been our peril, and so rapidly had the danger bled us to cecape the doom which befell the ill-fated man-of-war. - CHAPTER XI. THE BRIDE OF POMIRET HALL. In a few days we made Block Island, and hauled up tor Newport, where we expected to meet The Arrow. It was a beautiful day in winter when we entered the outer harbor, and the waves which « light frosty breeze just rippled, glittered in the sun- light as if the surface of the water had been strewed th diamonds. The church-bells were merrily ringing in honor of the intelligence, which had just been received, of the alliance with France. fe came to anchor amid a salvo from the batteries of the fort, and of our consort who was already at an- chor in the inner harbor. Merry was our meeting with the ward-room and cockpit of The Arrow, and many a gay sally bore witness to the hilarity with which we greeted each other after our mutual adventures. For a week the town rung with our mirth, At the end of that time, I managed to obtain a leave of absence, and, re- membering my promise to Mr. St. Clair, started for Pomfret Hall. AsIlay back in the ceach, and was whirled over the road behind two fast hackneys, I indulged in many a recollection of the past, in not a few reveries of the future. But most of all, I wondered how Annette would recgive me. The thoughts of our last parting were® fresh in my memory, but months of changes had since elapsec, and might not corresponding! changes have oceurred in her feelings toward me? Would she meet me with the delightful frankness of our childhood, or with the trembling embarrassment of our last in- terviews? Or might she not, perhaps, as too man, before had done, welcome me with a cold polite ness that would be more dreadful to me than even scorn? The longer I thought of the subject, the more uncertainty I felt as to my reception. <At first I had pps ben to myself Annette, standing blushing and embarrassed on the steps to greet me as soon as I alighted; but when I came to reflect, I felt that, like all lovers, I had dreamed impossi- bilities; and I almost laughed at my wild vision when I recalled to my mind that I stood in no other light to Annette than as an acquaintance, at most as a friend. ay. feelings then took a sudden re- vulsion, and I asked myself, might not she love an- other? What had I ever said to induce her to be- lieve that I loved her? Could she be expected to give her affections, unasked, to any one, but espe- cially to a poor adventurer, whose only fortune was his sword, when the proudest in the land would come and gone, that the whole occurrence seemed | consider her hand as a boon? What madness te to me like a dream; and when, after a second’s de- | think that, surrounded as she doubtless had been eS 6 Se See /
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AsI thought this, I fancied that I was going only to behold the triumph of some more ortunate rival, and I cursed myself for having come on such an errand. At one moment I was almost resolved to turn back. But again hope dawned in my bosom, I felt that Annette had seen my love, andI recalled to mind how tremblingly alive she had been, during our last interview, to my atten- tions. Surely, then, she had not forgotten me. I was doing h-r injustice, and with this conviction I leaned out of the carriage window, and ordered the postillion to drive faster. The second day brought me in sight of the gates of Pomfret Hall, and as I dashed up to them, and felt that my suspense would soon be terminated, my heart fluttered wildly. As the carriage whirled in- to the avenue, I saw a perenne of the neighbor- ing village girls proceeding to the hall. They were dressed in white, and bore flowers, as if going to some festival. At the instant I recollected that the church-bells had been ringing merrily ever since I had come within hearing of them, and, with a sud- den thrill of agony, I stopped the coach as the vil- lage girls stepped aside to let it pass, and inquired the meaning of their procession. My voice was so hay that, at first, it was indistinguishable; and I was forced to repeat the question. “Oh! it’s the meaning of our going to the hall, that the gentleman would know,” said a female at the head of the procession, then turning to me she said, with a courtesy: “The young mistress was married this morning, and we are going to the hall to Eepeen her with flowers. This is her school, sir, and Iam the mistress.” I sunk back in the carriage with a groan. At first I thought of ordering the postillion to return, but then I resolved to f° forward, and, concealing my sufferings, appear the gayest of the gay. “Yes!” I exclaimed, in bitter agony, “never shall she know the misery she has inflicted.’ And yet, oh, God! that Annette should thus have deserted me—’ and with these words, I sternly bid the postillion to poe on. But I felt like a criminal bound to his exe- cution. The ten minutes that elapsed before I reached the door of the Hall seemed to be an age, and were ge in an agony of mind no pen can describe. ut, notwithstanding my agony, my pride revolted at the display of my outward emotion. I would not for worlds that Annette should know the torture her faithlessness had inflicted on my bosom. No! I would wish Annette and her husband a long and happy life, and no one should suspect that, under my assuined com re, I wore a heart rankling with a wound that no time or circumstance could cure. My reflections, were cut short by the stoppage of the ve- hicle before the door of the mansion. A servant hastened to undo the coach-steps, and, nerving my- self for the interview that was at hand, I ore out. The man’s face was strange to me, and 1 saw® that it displayed some embarrassment, ‘Will you announce me to Mr, St. Clair,’’ I said, ““as Lieutenant Cavendish?” “Mr. St. Clair, I regret to say,” replied the man, litely, “‘is not at the Hall. The carriages have ust driven off, and if they had not taken the back road vag the avenue. . St. Clair accompanies the bride and groom on a two weeks’ tour.”’ My course was at once taken; and as the criminal feels a lightening of the heart when reprieved, so I experienced a relief in escaping the trying experi- ment of mingling with the bridal party. Hastily re- ascending the carriage steps, I left my name with the servant, and hastily ordering the coachman to drive off, left Pomfret Hall, with the resolution never again toreturn. At the village I paused a few minutes to indite a letter to Mr. St. Clair, in which I regretted my inopportune arrival, and wished a long life of happiness to him and to An- nette. Then re-entering the coach, I threw myself back on the seat, and, while being whirled awa from Pomfret Hall, gave myself up to the most bi ter reflections. “Fool that I was,” I exclaimed, “to think that the wealthy heiress could stoop to love a penniless officer. And yet,’ I continued, “‘ my fathers were as noble as hers; ay! and enjoyed wealth and honors to which the St. Clairs never aspired.” But again arevulsion came across my feelings, and I said, “Oh, Annette, Annette! could you but know my misery, you might have paused. But God grant ou may find a heart as true to you as mine.”” Thus faeaaeed by contending emotions, now giving way to my love, and now yielding to indignation and ride, I spent the day, and when at night, prepara- ry to my yoke 2 I happened to cast a look into the mirror, I started back at my haggard Spear ance. But there are moments of agony which do the work of years. CHAPTDPR XII. THE LAST SHOT AND ITS DOOM. My messmates, one and all, were astonished at my speedy return, but luckil it had been determin- ed to put to sea at once, so that if I had remained at Pomfret Hall until the ‘expiration of my leave of absence, I should have lost the cruise. One or two of my tg aig who prided themselves on their superior intelligence, gave me the credit of neving, by some unknown means, heard of the change in ous Say of sailing, and so hastened my return to my st. Pwo sailed in company with The Arrow, but, ere we had been out a week, were separated from our consort, Our orders were, in such an emergency, to make the best of our way southward, and ren- dezvous at St. Domingo. I had turned in one night, after having kept ark, would have met you in the | | watch on deck until midnight, when in the midst of | | The Young Privateer. a refreshing sleep, I was suddenly awoke by a hand ae on my shoulder, at the same time that a voice said: “Hist | Cavendish; don’t talk in your sleep.” Istarted to my feet, but, for a moment, my facul- ties were in such a whirl that the dream in which I had been reveling, mingled with the scene before my waking senses, confused and bewildered me so that I knew not what I uttered. “St. Clair! Pomfret Hall! why your wits are wool- gathering, my dear fellow,’’ said the doctor—for I now recognized my old friend—“ of what have you been dreaming? You look as if you thought me a specter sent to call you from Paradise.” Thad indeed been dreaming. I fancied I was far away, wandering amid the leafy shades of Pomfret Hall, with Annette leaning on my arm and ever and anon pazing up into my face with looks of unutter- able love. I heard the rustle of the leaves, the jocund song of the birds, and the soothing sound of the woodland waterfall, but sweeter, ay! a thou- sand times sweeter than all these, came to my ears the low . hisper of my affianced bride. Was I not hepey? And we sat down on a verdant bank, and, with her hand clasped in mine, and her head resting on my bosom, we talked of the happiness which was in store for us, and projected a thousand plans for the future. From visions like this I awoke to the consciousness that Annette was lost to me forever, and that even now the smiles and caresses of which I had dreamed were being bestowed upon another. A pang of keenest agony, a sharp, sudden , as if an icebolt had shot through my heart, almost de- parved me for a moment of utterance, and I was fain © lean against a timber for support. But this weak- ness was only momentary, for, rally I conquered my feelings, though no that the doctor saw my emotion. en) Ate sick, my dearfellow?" he said anxious- ly. ‘No? well, you do look better, now. But I came to inform you that as rascally a looking craft as are 78) saw is dodging us to the windward, and the Lord only knows whether we won't all be prison- ers, and mayhap dead men before night.”’ I hurried on my clothes, and, following him to the deck, saw, at the first glance, that the good doctor's fears respecting the strange sail were not without foundation. She was a sharp, low brig, with masts raking far aft, and a spread of canvas towerin from her decks sufficient to have driven a sloop-of- war. The haze of the morning had concealed her from sight until within the last five minutes; but now the broad disk of the sun, rising majestically behind her, brought out her masts, tracery, and hull in bold and distinct relief, “A rover, boys," said the skipper, who had been scrutinizing the strange sail through a glass; “ and she is treble our force,” he continued, in a whisper tome. ‘“ We have no choice, either, but to fight.” “She sails like a witch, too,’ I replied, in the same low tone, ‘‘and would overhaul us, no matter what her position might be.” “T wish we were a dozen leagues away,” said the captain, shrugging his shoulders; “there is little honor and no profit in fighting these cut-throats, and if we are whipt, as we shall be, they will slit our windpipes as if we were so many sheep in a slaughter-house, Bah!" “Not so,”’ I exclaimed, enthusiastically, ‘we will die sword in hand. Since these murderers have crossed our path we must, if every thing else fail, suffer them to board us, and then blow the schooner out of water. I myself will fire the train.” ‘* Now, by the God above us, you speak as a brave man should, and shame my momentary disgust, for fear I will not call it. o, Jack Merrivale never wanted courage, however prudence might have been lacking. But little didI think that you, Cavendish, would ever show less prudence than myself, as you have to-day. You seem a changed man,” “Tam one,” [exclaimed; ‘‘ but that is neither here nor there, en once yon freebooter gets along- every ene so soon but side, Harry Cavendish will not be behindhand in do- ing his duty.” y superior, at any other time, could not have failed to notice the excitement under which I spoke, but now his mind was too fully occupied to give my endeavor a second thought, and our conversation was cut short by a ball from the pirate, which, whistling over our heads, plumped into the sea some fathoms distant. At the same instant a mass of dark bunting shot up to the gaff of the brig, and, slowly unrolling, blew out steadily in the breeze, dis- closing a black flag, unrelieved by a single emblem. But we well knew the meaning of that ominous en- 8 ‘He taunts us with his accursed flag,’ said the skipper energetically; ‘‘ by the Lord that liveth, he shall feel that freemen know how to defend their livesand honor, Call aft the men, and then to quar- ters. We will blow yon scoundrels out of water, or die on the last plank.”’ Never did I listen to more vehement, more soul- stirring eloquence than that which rolled, like a tide of fire, from the captain’s lips when the men had gathered aft. Eve a hi flashed with indignation, every bosom heaved with high and noble daring, as he pointed impetuously to the foe, and asked if there was one who heard him that wished to shrink from the contest. To his impassioned a they an- swered with a loud huzza, brandish 1eir cutlasses wag bel their heads and swearing to stand by him to the last. “IT know it, my brave boys—I remember how you fought the privateer’s men,” for most of his old crew had re-entered; ‘‘but yonder cut-throats are still more deceitful, and bloodthirsty. We have nothing to hope for from them but a short shrift and the yard-arm. We fight, not for country and property alone, but for our lives also. The little Falcon has struck down too many prizes already, to show the coward’s feather. Let us make these decks slippery with our best blood rather than surrender. Ran by me, if they board us, and—my word on it—the survivors will yes" talk of the glorious day. And now, my brave lads, splice the main brace, and then to quarters.”’ Another cheer followed the close of this harangue, when the men gathered at their quarters, each one as he passed to his station receiving a glass of grog. As I ran my eye along the decks, and saw the stal- wart frames and genre eyes of the crew, I felt assured that the day was destined to be desperate! contested; and when I thought of the vast odds against which we contended and the glorious deeds which this superiority would make room for, I ex- rienced an exultation which I can not describe. he time for which, in the bitterness of my heart, I preyed, was come; and I resolved to dare things which, if they ever reached the ears of Anne should prove to her that I died the death of a gallan soldier, The thought that, perhaps, she might regret me when I was gone, was sweeter to me than the song of many waters. ttle time, however, was left for such emotiona, for scarcely had the men taken their stations when the pirate, who had hitherto been maneuvering for a favorable position, and only occasionally firing a shot, opened his batteries on us, discharging his guns in such quick succession that his sides seemed one continuous blaze, and his tall masts were to be seen reeling backward from the shock of his broadside. ina ge the iron tempest came hurtling across us, and for a space I was bewildered by the peas of timbers, the falling of apare, and the agonizing shrieks of the wounded. The main-top- mast came rattling to the deck with all its ham at the very moment that a messmate fell dead de me, Fora few minutes all was consternation and confusion. So rapid had been the discharges, and so well aimed had been each shot, in the twinkling of an eye, we saw ourselves almost a wreck on the water, and aca ah 4 at the mercy of our foe. “Clear away this hamper,” shouted the skipper; Mase to your guns forward there, and give it to the rate.” Pwith the word the two light pieces and the gun amidships opened on the now rapidly closing foe; but the metal of all except the swivel was so lig! t that it did no eae fg damae on the thick-ribbed hull of our antagonist. The ball from the long eighteen, how- ever, swept the deck of the foe, and appeared to have carried no little havoc in its course. But the broadside did not check the approach of the rover, His object was manifestly to run us afoul and board us, Steadi- ly, therefore, he ma ntained his course, swerving scarcely ahair’s breadth at our discharge, but kee ing right on as if scorning our futile efforts to chec his progress. We did not, however, intermit our exertions. Although crippled we were not dis: heartened—des ast ne we entertained no thought ot submission, but rallying around our guns, we sr se them like lions at bay, firing with such rapidity that our decks and the ocean around, soon came to be almost obscured in the thick fleecy vail of smoke that settled slowly on the water. For a short space we even lost sight of our antagonist, and the gun ners paused, uncertain where to fire; but suddenly the an of the pirate were seen riding above the white fog, scarcely a pistol-shot from us, and in another minute, with a deafening crash, the rover ran us aboard, his bows rit jamming in our fore- rigging as he approached us head on. Almost be- fore we could recover from our surprise we heard a stern voice crying out in the Spanish tongue for boarders, and immediately a dark mass of rufflana gathered, like a cluster of bees, on the bowsprit of the foe, with cutlasses brandished aloft, preparatory to a descent on our decks, “Rally to repel boarders!" thundered the skipper, springing forward; “ho! beat back the bloodhounds from your decks,”’ and with the word, he made a blow at a desperado who, at that moment, epeung into the fore-rigging; when my superior drew back his sword it was red with the heart’s blood of the assailant, who falling heavily backward with a dull plash, squatted a second on the water, like a wounded water-fowl, and then sunk forever, For a single breath his companions stood appalled, and then, with a savage yell seeps on our decks. fiercely attacked our little band. In vain our gallant tars disputed every inch of ground—in vain, one after another of the assailants Ae the deck with his blood. Step by step our brave lads were steadily forced backward, until at length the whole forecas- tle was in possession of the foe, and a solid mass of freebooters was advancing on the starboard side of the open main-hatch, in eager pursuit of the retreat- ing crew. I had foreseen this result of the conflict, and instead, therefore, of aiding to repel the board- ers, had been engaged in loading one of the light guns with grape, and dragging it around, so as to command this very path—a duty which I had been enabled to perform unnoticed by either party in the fierce excitement of the melee. Thad hardly masked my little battery, and not three minutes had elapsed from the first onset of the boarders, when my mess- mates came driving toward me, as I have described, beaten in by the solid masses of the enemy. Already the fugitives had passed the hatchway, and the fore- most desperadoes of the assailing column were even now within three feet of the muzzle of my gun, when Isigned to my confederate to jerk off the op eg which had masked our piece, uick as lightni Iapplied the match, and the whole fiery catara was belched upon them, Language cannot depict the fearful havoc of that discharge. The hurricane of fire and shot mowed its way lengthwise, thro the narrow and crowded column, scattering
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ES a Ee ews gemmed 14 The Young Privateer. dying and the dead beneath its track, as a whirlwind uproots the forest trees. “Now charge,’’ I shouted, as if seized with a sud- den frenzy, springing into the midst of the foe. “No quarter tothe knaves. Hew them to the brisket,” and following every word witha blow, and seconded by our men, who seemed to catch my fury, we made such havoe among those of the pirates whom the grape had spared, that, astonished, paralyzed, dis- concerted, and finally struck with mortal fear, they fled wildly from the schooner, some regaining their craft by the bowsprit, some plunging overboard and swimming to her, and some leaping headlong into the deep never to rise again. Seizing an ax, I hastily eut our hamper loose from the foe, and with the next swell the two vessels slowly parted. “Now to your guns, my men,” shouted the skip- per, unconscious of a dangerous wound, in the ex- citement of the moment; “give it to them before they canrally. Fire!” e poured in our broadsides like hail, riddling even the solid sides of our foe, and making his decks slippery with blood, and all this before the discom- fited freebooters could rally to their guns and return our shots. “Ah! he has woke up at last,” said my old friend, the captain of our long Tom, ‘and she may yet regain the day if we don’t fight like devils. . Bring me that shot from the galley.” “Tn God’s name, what do you mean?” saidI, as he coolly sat down by his piece. ‘‘In with the ball and let the rover have it—not a moment is to be lost.” * Ay! I knows that, leftenant; and here comes the settler for which I waited,” as the cook brought a red-hot shot from the galley; ** 1 thought ’d venture on a little experiment of own, and I’ve seen ’em do wonders with these fiery comets afore now. There —there she has it,’ he exclaimed, as the shot was sent home; ‘now God have mercy on those var- mints’ souls.” From some strange, unaccountable presentiment, I stepped mechanically backward and cast an eye at the brig, which had now floated to some distance. AsIdiiso, a trail of fire glanced before my siczht, and I saw a simmering shot enter her side. Thought was not quicker than the explosion which followed, shaking the sea beneath, and the sky above, almost deafening the ear with its unearthly concussion, while instantaneously a gush of flame shot far up jato the sky; the masts of the vessel were lif ed verpendicularly upward, and the whole air was ied with shattered timbe:s and mangled human bodies that fell the next minute pattering around us into the deep. Oh, God! that fearful sight. The shrieks of the wounded and drowning—the awful struggles of the poor wretches in the water—the sullen cloud that settled over the scene of death will they ever pass away from my memory? But i drop the vail over a sight too horrible to recount. Suffice it to say, of all the rover's crew, not one sur- vived to see that sun go down. A few we picked up in our boats, but they died ere night. The cause of the explosion is soon told. The brig’s magazine had been struck and fired by our Last sHoT. CHAPTER XIII. THE DOOM OF THE DART. Tue day had been close and sultry, but, as sunset urew on, a light breeze sprung up, which diffused a de.icious coolness throughout the ship, imparting new vigor to the panting and almost exhausted men. Invigorated by the welcome wind, a group of us gathered on the weather quarter to behold the sun go down; and those who have never seen such a spectacle at sea, can have no ideaof the vastness with which it fills the mind. “Beautifull” exclaimed the skipper; ‘‘ one might almost become poetical in gazing on such a scene.”’ The sun had now been hid for some minutes, and the apple- mn of the sky was rapidly becoming colder and more indistinct, though the edge of a solitary dark cloud, hanging a few degrees above the horizon, was yet tipped with a faint crimson. Meantime the stars began to appear in the opposite firmament, one after another twinkling into sight, as if by maps until the whole eastern heaven was with them. I looked around the horizon. When I turned my gaze westward, how different _ the spectacle that met my eye! The little cloud which I have described had grown to a and now obscured the whole larboard extending its dark and j d front a third of the way around the horizon, and piling its gloomy mas- ses high up toward the zenith. Here and_ there, where a thinner edge than usual was disclosed to the light, it caught the rays of the rising luminary which it reflected ck, so that the cloud seemed lined with silver. She sea, immediately under this gloomy bank of vapor, was of the color of ink, and _re- minded me of the fabled waters of Acheron, The whole spectacle was calculated to fill the mind with dark and ominous forebodings; and, I confess, my own feelings partook o this uneasy char- acter. “A threatening ) gent said the skipper, ap- proachi me, and breaking the profoun silence which had reigned for several minutes; ‘we shall have a tempest before long, and I fear it will be no child's play.” : “T never saw such ominous signs before. The very air seems oppressed and sick, as if it trembled at approaching ruin. Mark the faces of our oldest veterans—they betray a vague sentiment of fear, such as I never saw on their countenances before.”’ “Ay!” replied the skipper, abstractedly, for he was gazing anxiously astern, ‘the cloud comes up like a race-horse. How it whirls over and over, ro its dark masses along; it reminds me of the mountains which the old Titans, we read of in school, heaved against Jove. But here am I think- igantic size rmament, ee ing of classic fables when I ought to be taking in sail. Ho!’ he exclaimed, lifting his voice, as a sha’ gust, premonitory of the coming hurricane whist] across the hamper, ‘‘in sail—every rag!”’ No time was to be lost. During the short space we had been conversing, the dark clouds astern had increased their velocity threefold, and, even as the skipper spoke, the most advanced of them had over- shadowed us with its sepulchral pall. As the mo- mentary puff of air accompanying it died away, a few large heivy rain-drops pattered on the deck, *| and then all was still again. The men sprung to their stations, at the voice of their superior, and in- cited to double activity by these signs of approach- ing danger, soon reduced our canvas, until the schooner lay, with bare poles, rocking on the swell. Scarcely had this task been completed, when the gale burst on us in allits fury, roaring, hissing, and owling through the rigging, and drenching us with the clouds of i i that it tore from the bosom of the deep and bore onward in its fierce embraces. For a few minutes we could scarcely stand before the blast. The schooner groaned, and starting for- ward at the first touch of the hurricane, like a steed when he feels the spur, went careering along, her tall masts curving over in the gale, and her hull shrouded in the flying spray which drove onward with even greater velocity than ourselves. In the desperate encounter with the clements, every rope and stick strained and cracked almost to breaking. All at once this hurricane died out, and then an awful stillness fell on the scene. Not a voice spoke, not a footfall was heard, scarcely a breath broke the appalling silence. The schooner rose and fell omin- ously on the agitated swell. Suddenly a flash of lightning played far off on the dark edges of the cloud behind us, and then followed a low, hoarse growl of distant thunder. Scarcely a minute elapsed before a large fe aN g fell on my face, and in- stantaneously, as if the heavens had opened before us, a deluge of rain rushed downward, hissing and seething along the decks, and almost pinning us to our places; while the wind, bursting out afresh swept wildly across the sea, and driving the rain an spray madly before it, produced a scene of confu- sion and tumult almost indescribable. For some minutes I could see nothin in the thick darkness which surrounded us—could hear nothing but the roar of the hurricane and the Sag of the waters. But suddenly a blinding flash shot from the clouds almost directly overhead, lighting up the decks oper and guns for an instant with a supernatura. glare, and striking the ocean a few fathoms distant plowed up the waters, which it threw in volumes of BPAY. in every direction. Before a clock could tick the report followed, stunning us with its deafenin roar, and rattling and crackling as it echoed fearful- ly down the sky. Never shall I forget the ghastly looks of the men, as I beheld them in that unearthly glare. And minutes after darkness had resumed its sway, and the roar of the thunder had died in the dis- tance, my eyes still ached with that intense light, and the crackling still rung in my ears. ‘*Kast by east-sou’-east,” said the skipper, ‘and driving like death, God of Heaven, what a storm!”’ The words had scarcely left his mouth before an- other pee of thunder, even more awful than the preceding «ne I have described, burst overhead, and stunning us for an instant with its terrible explosion, rattled down the sky, crackling and re-crackling in its retreat, as if the firmament was crushing to its center; it was accompanied rather than preceded by a flash, such as I had never seen before, blinding me instantaneously with its glare, and making every object swim dizzily before the brain. On the mo- ment I felt a stunning shock, and was prostrated on the deck, while a strong smell of sulphur pervaded the atmosphere. The deluge of rain revived me, and I looked up in alarm. Good God! the foremast wasin flames! We had been struck with lightning ! Quick as thought the whole horrors of my situa- tion rose before me. We were on a pathless sea amid a raging storm. That there was little hope of extinguishing the flames was evident, for, even while these thoughts flashed through my mind, a volume of smoke puffed through the forecastle, and a cry ran through the decks that the whole forward of the schooner was on fire. There was no time, however, to be lost, if we would make any ef- fort to save ourselves; and, faint as was the hope of success, it was determined to attempt to smother the flames by fastening down the hatches and excluding the air. But the fierce heat that filled the decks told us that the endeavor would be in vain; nor was it long before the fore-hatch was blown up with a loud explosion, while a stream of fire shot high up into the air; and, the next minute, the forked tongues had caught hold of the rigging, wrapping shrouds, ropes and yards in a_ sheet of lurid flame. The rapidity with which all this occurred was incredible. It seemed as _ if but a minute had elapsed since that terrific bolt had burst above us, and now the whole forward part of the schooner was a mass of fire, that streamed out before the tempest like a blood-red banner; showers of sparks, and even burning frag- ments of the wreck, tying far away ahead on the gale. There are periods, however, evenof long du- ration, which appear to be but PAQEARD SY s and so it was now. So wholly had every energy been de- voted to the preservation of the ship, that time had pames almost unnoticed, though a full half-hour ad elapsed since we had been struck with lightning. The storm, however, stiJl raged as furiously as ever; for, though the rain was less violent, the wind blew a hurricane, threatening to settle down into a long- sustained gale. Had the torrents of water, which first drenched us, continued falling, there might have been some hope of extinguishing the flames; but the subsidence of the rain, and the unaltered '‘ high SS ST) violence of the wind, rendered the situation of the schooner hopeless. ““We can do nothing more, I fear,’’ at length said the skipper, drawing me aside; “ the fire is on the increase, and even the elements have turned against us. We must leave the little Dart to her fate, unless ou can think of something else to do?” and he ooked ney at me. ** Alas!’ I replied, with a mournful shake of my head, ‘we have done every thing that mortal man can do, but in vain. We must now think of saving ourselves. Had we not better order out the boats? The skipper did not, for a moment, reply to my question, but stood, with his arms folded. on his breast, and a face of the deepest dejection, gazing on the burning forecastle. At length he spoke: + epic a long day have we sailed together, in many a bold fray have we fought for each other, and now to leave you, my gallant craft, ah! little did I think this would be your doom, But God's will be done. We must all perish sooner or later, and better go down here than rot, a forgotten hulk, on some muddy shore—better consume to ashes than fall a prey to some huge cormorant of an enemy. And yet,” he continued, his eye lighting up, “‘and yet I should have wished to die with you under the guns of one of those gigantic monsters—ay! die battling for the possession of your decks inch by inch.” At this instant one of the forward guns, which had _be- come heated almost to redness in the conflagration, exploded. The sound seemed to recall him to him- self, He started as if roused from a reverie, and, noticing me beside him, recollected my question. Immediately resuming his usual energy, he proceed- ed to call out the boats,and provide provisions and a few hasty instruments, with a calmness which was in striking contrast to the raging sea around, and the lurid fire raging on our bows. The high discipline cf the men enabled us fo com- plete our preparations in a space of time less than one-half that which would have been consumed by an ordinary crew under like circumstances; and, in- deed, in many cases, all subordination would have been lost, and perhaps the ruin of the whole been the consequence. The alacrity of the men and the forecast of the officers were indeed needed; for our PrepAneions had scarcely been completed when the 1eat On the deck became intolerable. The fire had now reached the main hatch, aud, notwithstanding the violence of the gale, was extending aft with great rapidity, and had already pavers the main | mast in its embraces. For some time before we left | the schooner, the heat, even at the taffrail, almost scorched the skin from our feces; nor did we de- scend into the boats a minute too soon. This wasa | feat also by no means casily accomplished, so great was the agitation of the sea. As Ilooked on the frail boats which were to receive us, and thought of the perils which environed us, of our distance from land, and the slight quantity of provisions we had. been enabled to save, I felt that in all human probability, we should never again set foot on shore, even if we survived until morning. To my own fate I was com- paratively indifferent, for life had now lost all charms for me; but when I reflected on the brave men who were to be consigned to the same destiny and of the ties by which many of them were bound to earth—of the wives who would become widows, of aged parents who would be left childless, of children for whom the fe lot was preparing—the big tears gushed into my eyes, and coursed down my cheek, though unobserved. * All ready,” said the skipper, who was the last to leave the deck, and pausing to cast a mournful look at his little craft, he sprung into the boat and we pushed off from the quarter. For some min- utes, however, it seemed doubtful whether our] frail barges could live in the tumultuous sea that now raged. One minute we were hurried to the sky on the bosom of a wave, and then we plunged headlong into the dark trough below, the walls of water on either hand meiner threatening to overwhelm is. But though small, our boats were buoyant, ind rode gallantly onward. Every exertion was made, meanwhile, to inciease our dis- tance from the schooner, for our departure had been hurried by the fear that the fire would soon reach the magazine, and our proximity to the burn- ing ship still continued to threaten us with destruc- tion in case of an explosion. The men, conscious of the peril, strained every sinew to effect our object, and thus battling against wind and wave we strug- gled on our ¥4y. With every fathom we gained, the sight of the burning ship increased in magnificence. The flames had now seized the whole after part of the schooner as far back as the companionway, so that h spars, and rigging were a sheet of fire, which, caught in the fierce embraces of the hurricane, now whirled around, now steamed straight out, and now broke into a thousand forked tongues, licking up the masts and around the spars like so many fiery serpents. Millions of sparks poured down io lee- ward, while ever and anon huge patches of flame would be torn from the main body of the conflagra- tion and blown far away ahead. Volumes of dark, pitchy smoke, curling up from the decks of the schooner, often partially concealed a portion of the flames, but they reappeared a moment afterwaz«! with even greater vividness. In some places so iu- tense was the conflagration that the was at a white heat. The whole horizon was illuminated with the light, except just over and ahead of the schooner, where a black smoky cloud had gathered. “‘She can not last much longer,” said the doctor, who was in my boat, ‘“‘the flames will scon reach the magazine.’ ; aot ay! and look there—”’ As I spoke, a vivid, blinding jet of fre strenmed up into the air, while the mast of the schooner
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— ————— _——$e could be seen, amid the flame, shooting arrow-like to the sky. Instantaneously a roar of ten thousand batterics smote the ear; and then came the patter- ing of fragments of the hull and spars as they fell upon the water. Even while these sounds con- tinued, a darkness that brought to my mind that of the day of doom enveloped us, though that intense light still swam in our eyes, Reet a thousand fantastic images on the retina. No word was spoken, but cach one held his breath in awe, and then came a long, deep-drawn sigh, that seemed to ge simultaneously from each one in the boat. The Dart wisnomore. Wewere alone in the boundless deep, alone with a storm still raging around us alone without any hope of rescue, and a thousand miles from land. God only knew whether it would be our lot to perish by starvation or sink at an earlier hour a prey to the overwhelming deep. CHAPTER XIV. THE OPEN BOAT—DEATH OF THE SHIP’S BOY—A SAIL. How shall I describe the horror of that seemingly endless night? Borne onward at the mercy of the waves, possessing just sufficient control over the boat to keep her head in the proper direction—now losing sight altogether of our consort, and now hanging on the top of the wave while she lay di- rectly under us, we passed the moments in a suc- cession of hopes and fears which no human pen can adequately deseribé, As the night advanced our sufferings increased. The men, worn out with fa- tigue, were kept at their oars only by the conscious- ness that even a moment's respite might be our de- struction. .With difficulty we maintained even the slightest communication with our fellow-sufferers in the other boat, and, as the hours wore away, communication became almost impossible. It was only at intervals we caught sight of our companions through the gloom, or heard their loud huzzas in an- swer to shouts, And no one, except he who has been in a like situation, can tell how our sense of loneliness was relieved when we saw these glimpses of our consort, or caught the welcome sound of other voices than our own across that fathomless abyss. t re a gigantic wave rolled up between us and the launch, and, when we rose from the trough of the sea, I fancied {heard beneath us a wild pro- longed ery of human agony. At the sound, my blood curdled in my veins, and I strove to pierce the obscurity ahead, hoping almost against hope that our companions yet survived, and thatI might catch a glimpse of the launch; but my straining eyes scanned the prospect in vain, for the thick darkness shut out everything from my vision, except when the ghastly foam whitened along the waves beside me. Yor an instant I tried to believe that what I heard had sprung from a disordered fancy, but the eager, yet horror-struck faces of my shipmates beside me s00n convinced me that I was not the only one who had heard that cry. We looked at each other for a moment, as men may be supposed to look who have seen a visitant from the tomb, and then, with one common impulse, we joined in a halloo that rose wildly to windward, swept down on us, rose again, and finally died away to leeward in melancholy notes. No answering cry met our ears. Again and again we united in a shout—again and again the roar of the wind and wash of the waves was our only reply. Suddenly a flash of lightning blazed around us, and taking advantage of the momentary light thus shed on the prospect, I gazed once more across the waste of, waters. We hung, at the mo- ment, on the topniost hight of a mountain wave, while beneath yawned a black abyss, along whose sides the foam was rolling in volumes, while the hastly crests of each mimic billow and the pitchy garkness of the depths below were lit up with the awful glare of the lightning, presenting to the im- agination a scene that reminded me of the lake of fire into which Milton’s apostate spirits fell. Just at the lowest point of the vortex a boat was seen, bot- tom upward, while, in close proximity to it, one or two human forms were struggling in sea; but all in vain; for at every despairing stroke they were borne further and further from the few frail planks which were now to them their world. Oh! never will that sight fade from my memory. A cry of horror broke simultaneously from all who beheld the scene, and long after it had vanished from our eyes, we heard the first despairing shriek of our drowning messmates, we saw the last look of agony ere they sunk forever. To save them was beyond our power. As we were whirled down the abyss, we leaned over the gunwale to catch, if possible, a — of the vicinity of any of the sufferers, but our efforts were in vain; and, after watching and listen- ing for more than an hour, wo desisted in despair. As the storm gradually passed away, and the stars broke out on high, diffusing a shadowy light around us, we gazed again across the waste for some token of our lost messmates, but our scrutiny was in vain. The tale of their death, save as it is rehearsed in these hurried pages, will never be told until the judgment oy orphans length dawned. Insensibly the first cold streaks of day crept along the eastern horizon, gradually diffusing a gray twilight over the vast solitude of waters around, and filling the mind with a sensation of utter loneliness, which, though I had experienced it partially before, never affected me with such indescribable power as now. As far as the eye could stretch there was nothing to break the vast monotony of the horizon, All knew that we were out of the usual route of ships crossing the Atlantic, and that our chances of rescue were conse- uently lessened. We were, moreover, no” "Ss thousaud miles from land, with but scanty | - ions, and those damaged. Our boat was frail, und one far stronger had already been submerged—what then would probably be our fate? It was easy to see that these thoughts were passing through the minds of all, and that a feeling akin to despair was gathering around every heart. “Cheer up, my hearties!” at length said Bill Seaton, a favorite topman, looking round on his companions; ‘it’s always darkest ust before day. and if we don’t meet a sail now, we must look all the sharper for one to-morrow. Never say die while you hear the wind overhead, or see the waves frol- icking around you. Twenty years have] sailed, in one craft or another, and oft n been in as bad scrapes as this—so it’s hard to make me think we're going to Davy Jones’s locker this time, Cheer up, cheer up, braves, and I'll give you ‘Bold Haw- thorne,’”’ and with these words he broke out into a song, whose words acted like an inspiration on the crew, and in a moment the air rung with the ballad chorused forth by a dozen stentorian voices, And | thus, alternating between hope and despair, we spent the day. The gale had long since sunksinto a light breeze, and the mountainous waves were pie wf sub- siding into the long, measured swell which char- acterizes the deep when not unusually agitated. Over the wide surface of the dark, azure sea however, might be seen ten thousand crests of foam, one minute crisping into existence, and the next disappearing on the declining surge; and as the hour approached high noon, each of these mo- mentary sheets of spray glistened in the sunbeams like frosted silver, Overhead the dark, deep sky glowed as in a furnace, while around us the sea was as molten brass. Parched with thirst, yet not darin to exceed the allowance of water on which we ha determined—burning in the intense heat, without the possibility of obtaining shelter—work out in body and depressed in spirits, it required all my exertions, backed by one or two of the more san- sues of the erew, to keep the men from utter espair, nor was it until evening again drew on, and the intolerable heat of a tropical day had given way to the comparative coolnes ; of twilight that the emma despondency gave way. Then again the opes of the men revived, only, however, to be once more cast down when darkness closed over the scene, with the certainty we should obtain no relief until the ensuing day. Why need I recount the sufferings of that second night, which was only less dreadful than the pre- ceding one, because the stars afforded us some com- parative light, sufficing corr however, to keep us on he watch for a strange sail, without allowing us to hope for success in our watch, unless by almost a miracle! Why should I narrate the alternation of hope and fear on the ensuing day, which did not differ from this one, save in the fiercer heat of noon- day, and the more utter exhaustion of the men? What boots it to recount the six long days and nights, each one like its predecessor, o y that each one oer more and more intolerable, until at length, parched and worn out, like the Israelites of old, we cried out at night, “ would God it were morning,” and in the morning, “‘ would God it were evening! And thus week after week passed, until our pro- visions and water were exhausted, and on no relief arrived, but day after day we floated elplessly on that broiling ocean, or were chilled by the icy and unwholesome dews of night. Hunger and thirst and heat—fever and despair contended together for the mastery, and we were the victims. Often before had [ read of men who were thus exposed, coming at length to such a pitch of madness and despair, that they groveled in the bottom of the boat an cried out for death; but never had I thought such thi could be credible. Now how fearfully were my doubts removed! I saw the lion-hearted men weeping like infants—I beheld those whose stren:.th was as that of a giant, subdued and powerless—I heard men, who in other circumstances, would have clung tenaciously to life, now sullen! awaiting their fate, or crying out, in their agony, or death to put a period to their suffering. oO pen, however phic—no Grape ome ot however vivid, can do Justice to the fearful horrors of our situation. or morning dawned with the same hope of a sail in sight, and every night gathered around us with the same despairing consciousness that our hope was in vain. here was one of my crew, a pale, delicate lad whom I shall never forget. Hewas the only son of a widow, and had entered the navy, though against her will, to earn an honorable subsistence for her. Though he had been among us but a short time, he had already distinguished himself by his address and bravery, while his frank demeanor had made him a universal favorite. Since the loss of the Dart he had borne w ee our privations with a heroism that astonished me. When the rest were sad, he was cheerful; and no suffering, how- ever great, could wring from him a complaint. But on the twentieth day—after having no food for forty-eight hours—the mortal tenement proved too weak for his nobler soul. He was already dreadfully emaciated, and for some days I had been surprised at his powers of endurance. But now he could hold out no Jonger, and was forced to confess that he was ill. I felt his pulse—he was in a high fever. Delirium soon seized him, and throughout all that day and night he was deprived of reason. His ravings would have melted the heart of Nero. é seemed conscious of his approaching end, and dwelt constantly, in terms of the most heart-rend- ing agony, on his widowed mother—so soon to be deprived of her only solace and support. Oh! the terrible eloquence of his words. Now he alluded in the most touching accents to his father’s death— now he recounted the struggle in his mother’s heart when he proposed going to sea—and now he dwelt on her grief when she would hear of his untimely 15 end, or watch month after month, and year after year, in the vain hope of again pressing him to her bosom. There were stern men there listening to his plaintive lamentations,who had, perhaps, neyer shed a tear before, but the fountains of whose souls were now loosed, and who wept as only a& man can weep. There were sufferers beside him, whose own anguish almost racked their hearts to pieces, yet who turned aside from it to sorrow over him.® And, as hour after hour passed away, and he waxed weaker and weaker, one feeble shipmate after another volunteered to hold his ach- ing head, for all thought of the lone widow, far, far away, who was even now perhaps making some lity tle present for the boy whom she should never see rain, t was on the evening of the day after his attack, ap, when the suf- and he lay with his head on m ferer, after an unusually deep sleep of more than an hour, woke up, and faintly opening his eyes lifted them tome. It was a moment be ore he could re- cognize me, but then a grateful smile stole over his wan face. I saw at a glance that the fever had pensed away, and I knew enough of the dying hour 0 know that this return of reason foreboded a speedy dissolution. He made an attempt to raise his hand to his face, but weakness prevented hin. Knowing his wishes, I took my handkerchief and wiped the dampness from his brow. Again that sweet smile pived on the face of the boy, and it seemed as if thenceforth the expression of is coum tenance had in it something not of earth. The hardy seamen saw it toa, and leaned forward to look at him “Thank you, Mr, Cavendish, thank you,” he said, faintly. ‘I hope I haven't troubled you—I feel bet- ter now—almost well enough to sit up.” “ No—no, rs or boy,’ I said, though my emo- tions almost choked me, “lie still—I can easily. hold you. You have slept well?” “Oh! T have had such a sweet sleep, and it was full of happy dreams, though before that it seemed as if I was standing at my father’s dying bed, or saw my mother weeping as she wept the night I came away. And then,” and a melancholy shadow passed across his face as he spoke, “I thought that she cried more bitterly than ever as if her very heart were breaking for some one who was dead— and it teal too, as if I was that one,” he said, with childlike simplicity. Then for a moment he mused sadly, but suddenly said, ‘* Do you think I am dying, sir?’ The suddennes3 of this eujpere startled me, and when I saw those large clear eyes fixed on me, I was more embarrassed than ever, “T hope not,” I said, brokenly. He shook his head, and again that i rye shadow passed across his face, and he answered in a tone of grief that brought the tears into other eyes than mine: “T feel Tam. Oh! 4 poor mother—my end wires mother, who will care for you when I am gone?’ “T will,” said I, with emotion; “if God spares me to reach the land, I will seek her out, and tell her all about you—what a noble fellow you were—” “* And—and,” and here a blush shot over his pale face, ‘ will you see that she never wants—wili you?” he continued, eagerly. “T will,” said I, “ rest easy on that point, my dear, noble boy.” ‘““Ay! and while there’s a shot in the locker for Bill Seaton she shall never want,” said the topman, pressing in his own horny hand the more delicate one of the boy. “God bless you!” murmured the lad faintly, and he closed hiseyes. For a moment there was silence, the hot tears falling on his face as I leaned over him. At length he looked up; a smile of joy was on his countenance, and his lips moved. I put my ear to them and listened. ‘“*Mother—father—I die happy for we shall meet in heaven,” were the words that fell in broken mur- murs from his lips, and then he sunk back on my lap and was dead. The sun, at the instant, was Just sinking behind the distant seaboard. Ah! little d his mother think, as she gazed on the éecli luminary from her humble cottage window, that tha’ sun beheld the dying hour of her boy. ‘Little did she think, as she knelt that night in gee for him, that she was praying for one whose silent corpse rocked far away on the fathomless sea. Let us ho that when in ber sleep, she dreamed of hearing is loved voice once more, his spirit was hovering over her, whispering comfort in her ear. Thank God, that we can believe that the dead thus revisit the earth, and become ministering angels to the sorrow- ing who are left behind. nother sun went and came, and even the stoutest of our hearts began to give way. For twe nty-three days we had drifted on the pathless deep, and in all that time not a sail had appeared—not ing had met our sight but the brazen sky above and the unbroken deep below. When the sun of the twenty-fourth day arose, vast and red, there was not one of us whose strength was more than that of an infant; and though, at the first intimation of dawn we gazed around the horizon as we were wont, there was little hope in our dim and glazing eyes. + eae at however, the topman’s look be- came animated, and the color went and ceme into his face, betokening agitation. Following the direc- tion of his eyes, 1 saw a small, white speck far off on the horizon, T felt the blood rushing to the ends of my fingers, while a dizziness came over my Fight. I controlled my emotion, however, with an eflort. At the same instant the doubts of the topman ap- ared to give way, and waving his hand around s head, he shouted: “A saill—a sail!” “Whereaway?” eagerly asked a dozen feeble i
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1u voices, while others of the crew who were too far gone to speak, turned their fading eyes in the direc- tion in which all were now looking. ** Just under yonder fleecy cloud.” “a can’t see it,” said one; “surely there is a mis- take.”’ ** No—we are in the trough of the sea—wait till we rise—there!”’ * Isee it—I see it—huzza!”’ shouted several. A sudden animation seemed to pervade all. Some rose up, and clasping each other in their arms, wept deliriously—some cast themselves on their knees and returned thanks to God--while some gazed va- can from one face to another, every now and then breaking into hysterical laughter, The approaching sail was apparently a merchant- ship of the largest class, and the number of her look- outs seemed to intimate that she was armed. Once we thought that she was about to alter her course— her head turned partially around and one or two of her sails shook in the wind—but, after a moment's anxious suspense, we saw her resume her course, ber head pointing nearly toward us. Forsome time we watched her in silence, eagerly awaiting the mo- ment when she should porate our lug-sail. But we were doomed to be disappointed. Minute after minute passed by after we had assured ourselves that we were nigh enough to be seen, and yetethe bat: ial eppearce unconscious of our emg & “She will pass us!’ exclaimed Seaton, the top- man; “how can they avoid seeing our sail?”’ si We must try to hail them,” [ said, “‘ or we are “*Ay--ay! it is our only chance,” said the topman and a grim smile passed over his face as he ooked on his emaciated shipmates, and added bitterly, “though it’s little likely that such skeletons as we ean make ourselves heard so far.” “We will try,”’ said I, and raisi my hand to time the cry, I hailed the ship. The sound rose feebly on the air and died waveringly away. But no symptoms of its being heard were perceptible on board the stranger. * Again,’’ I said, ‘once more!"’ A second time the cry rose up from our boat, but this time with more volume than before. Still no look-out moved, and the ship kept on her course. “*A third time, my lads,"’ I said; ‘‘ we are lost if they hear us no 10y 1" * Hilloo!’’ came yyy down toward us, and a topman turned his face directly toward us, leaning his ear over the yard to listen. ** Ahoy !—a-hoy !|—a-h-o-o0-oy |’ we shouted, joining our voices in a last desperate effort. ** Hilloo—boat ahoy!”’ were the glad sounds that met our ears in return, and a dozen hands were ex- tended to point out our location. At the instant, the ship gallantly swung around, and bore down directly toward us. “They see us--praise the Lord—they see us—we are saved!’ were the exclamations of the crew as ey burst into hysteric tears, and fell on their knees thank ving, Be an enacting the scene of deliri- ous joy which had characterized the first discovery of the strange sail. On came the welcome ship—on like a sea-bird on the wing! Scores of curious faces were seen peer- ing over her sides as she approached, while from top to cross-trees a dozen Jook-outs gazed eagerly to- wardus. The sun was shining merrily on the waves, which sparkled in his beams like silver; while the murmur of the wind over the deep came pleasantly to ourears, Oh! how different did everything ap- gal to us now from what it had appeared when ope was banished from our hearts. And when weak and trembling, we were raised to the deck of the stranger, did not our hearts run over with grati- tude to God? Let the tears that even our rescuers mgt prcciaity. ‘“*Water—-give us water, for God's sake,” was the sry of my men as they struggled to the deck. ‘Only a drop now—more you shall have directly,” answered the surgeon, as he stood between the half- trenzied men and the water-can, With difficulty the ravenous appetites of the crew were restrained, for to have suffered the men to eat in — quantities after so aug an abstinence, would have insured their speedy deaths. The sick were hurried to cots, while the captain insisted that I should share a portion of his own cabin. It was Seay ays before we were sufficiently re- covered to mingle with our rescuers; and during our sickness we were treated with a kinduess which was never forgot. The strange sail was a privateersman, sailing under the American flag. We continued with her about two months, when she found it necessary to run into port. As we were nearly opposite Block Island, it was determined to stand in for Newport, where accordingly we landed, after an absence of nearly a year. Here I found that we had been given up for lost; a bucket, with the name of the Darr painted on it, having been picked up at sea, from which it was eoncluiled that all on board the vessel had perished. This belief had now become general, in consequence of the lapse of time since we had been heard from. ie greeted, therefore, as one restored from the CHAPTER XVI. HOME, SWEET HOME. Iwas now alone in the world; I had neither ship, nor home; and she I had loved was wedded to an- other. It is strange how misanthropical a man be- comes, after disappointment has soured his disposi- tion and destroyed, one after another, the beautiful dreams of his youth. When I sat down and thought of the hopes of my earlier years,now gone forever; when I ted upon my future ects; when I re- os ey mind es ow few of the friends I had begun life The Young Privateer, with remained, an indescribable sadness came over me, and, had it not been for my manhood, I would have found a relief in tears, Of the St. Clairs I had not inquired since my re- turn, and their names, from motives of delicacy per- haps, were never mentioned in my presence. et they occupied a large porn of my thoughts, and often would I start, and my heart flutter, when in the streets I fancied, for a moment, that I recognizedthe form of Annette. But a nearer approach made evi- dent my mistake, and dissipated my embarrassment, Much, however, as I thought of her, I had never in- quired to whom she had been married; yet my curi- osity on this point continually gained strength; and when I had been a fortnight in Newport without hearing ony allusion to her, I began to wish that some one would break the ominous silence which seemed to hang around her and herfamily. Still I dared not trust myself to broach the subject. I continued therefore, ignorant of their present situation, and of ali that concerned them. There is, not far from the town, and situated in one of the most beautiful portions of the island, a favor- ite resort which has long been known by the familiar and characteristic name of *‘The Glen.’’ The spot is one where the deity of romance might sit en- shrined. Here, on astill summer night, we might, without much stretch of fancy, look for fairies to come forth and gambol, or listen to the ht music of fairy spirits hovering above us. whole Peco reminds you of an enchanted bower, and du rings of the divinity within him as he gazes on the lovely scenery around, He who can listen here un- moved to the low gu spark of ourimmortal nature. The glen was my fovorite resort, and thither would I go and spend whole afternoons, listening to the laughing prattle of the little river,or striving.to catch, in pauses of the breeze, the murmur of the » eigh- boring sea. A rude bench had been constructed under some trees, in a partially open glade, at the lower extremit, are characteristic of youth. The stream, which brawled down the vine, in a succession of rapid cascades, here glided par ghee along on a level bottom, its banks fringed with long grass inter- spersed with wild roses, and its bed strewed with pennies, round and silvery, that glittered in the sun- ms, which here and there, struggled through the trees, and shimmered on the stream. Faint andlow came to the ear the sound of the mill, situated at the upper end of the ravine; while occasionally a bird whistled on the stillness, or a leaf floated lazily down into the river, and went on its way, a tiny bark. The seclusion of my favorite retreat was often enlivened by the appearance of strangers, but as they generally remained only a few moments, I | had the spot for most of the time to myself. Herel dreamed away the long summer afternoons, often lingering until the moon had risen, to make the scene even more beautiful under her silvery light. I had no pleasure inany other spot. Perhaps it was because I had been there with Annette, when we were both younger, and I, at least, happier; and I could remember plucking a flower from the time- worn bush that still grew on the margin of the stream. knows how we love to haunt the spot made dear to us by old and tender recollections! I was sitting one afternoon, on the rude bench I have spoken of, listlessly casting pebbles into the river, when I heard the sound of approaching voices, but I was so accustomed to the visits of strangers, that I did not pause to look up. Directly the voices came nearer, and suddenly a word was spoken that thrilled ony nerve of my system. It was only a single word, but that voice!—surely it could be none other than Annette’s. My sensations, at that mo- ment, I will not pretend to analyze. I longed to look up, and yet I dared not. My heart fluttered wildly, and Icould feel the blood rushing in torrents to my face; but, if I from the approaching visitors, and I had thus time to rally my spirits ere the strangers came up. As they drew near, I recognized the voice of Mr. St. Clair, and that of Annette’s cousin Isabel, while there were one or two other speakers who were strangers to me. Doubtless one of them was Annette’s husband, and, as this thought flashed across me, I looked up, impelled by an irresistible impulse. The party were now within almost twenty ons, coming ga. ly down the glen. Foremost in the group wal Isabel, leaning on thearm of a tall, gentlemanly individual, and turning ever and anon around to Annette, who followed immediately behind, at the side of her father. Another lady, attended by a gentleman made up the rest of the company. Where could Annette’s husband be? was the question that oc- curred to me—and who was that distinguished look- | ing gentleman on whose arm Isabel was so familiar- ly leaning? But my thou ing a minute,I was an unknown auditor—for my position still concealed me from the party, and my surprise at first, and afterward delicacy, prevented | me from appearing “Ah! Annette,” said Isabel, archly turning around | to her cousin, “ do you know this spot, but ial- ly that rose-bush yonder?—here right beyond that old tree—you seem wonderfully ignorant all at once! I wonder where the donor of that aforesaid rosebud | is now. I would Jay a guinea that it is yet in your possession, preserved in some fivorite book, pressed out between the leaves. Come, answer frankly, is it not so, my sweet eoz?”’ ahe | must be his heart who does not feel the stir- | rgle of the brook, or the light | rustle of the leaves in the summer wind, must be | formed of the coarsest clods of clay, nor boast one | of the ravine, and here I usually sat, in- | dulging in those dreamy, half-sick reveries which had been called on at that instant to | 8 ak, I could not have complied for worlds. Luckily the tree, under whose shadow I sat, concealed me | gts were cut short bya | conversation which now began, and of which, dur- | | not be delayed, and in less than a month I led An- I could hear no reply, if one was made, and im- mediately another voice spoke. It was that of Isa- bel’s companion, coming to the aid of Annette. *“You are too much given to believe that Annette follows your example, Isabel—now do you turn penitent, and let me be father-confessor—how many rose-buds—ay! and for that matter, even leaves, have ia in your collection, presented to you b your humble servant before we had pity on each other, and were married? I found a flower last week, in a copy of Spenser, and if I remember aright, I was the donor of the trifle.”’ “Oh! you ny ourself,’’ gayly retorted Isabel, ‘but men are foolish—and of all foolish men I ever met with, a certain Albert Marston was, before his marriage, the most foolish. 1 take credit to my- self,’’ she continued, in the same playful strain, “for having worked such a reformation in him since that event. But this is not what we were eee of—you wish to divert me from my purpose by this light Cossack warfare—but it won’t do,’’ she continued, and I fancied she stamped her foot prettily, as she was wont to do at Clairville Hall, when she was dis- aap to have her yer *“*no—no—Annette must be he one to turn penitent, and I will play father- confessor. Say, now, fair coz, was it not a certain fancy to see the same rose-bush, that induced you to insist on coming here?’ During this conversation the parties had remained near and stationary at some distance from me. Strange suspicions began to flash through my mind, as soon as lsabel commenced her banter; and these suspicions had now been changed to a certainty. Annette was still unmarried, and it was Isabel's wedding at which I had come so near being presen at Clairville Hall, Nor was this all. I was sti loved, Oh! the wild, the rapturous feelings of that moment! I could with difficulty restrain myself from rising and rushing toward them; but motives of delicacy forbade me thus to reveal that the con- versation had been overheard. And yet should I remain in my present position, and play the listener still further? I knew not what to do. All these considerations flashed through my mind in the space of less than a minute, during which the party per been silent, apparently enjoying Annette’s con- usion. ‘*Come, not ready to answer yet?’’ began Isabel; “well, if you will not, you sha‘n't have the rose from that bush, for which you’ve come. Let us go back,” she said, playfully. The whole party seemed to enter into the jest and laughingly retraced their steps. This afforde me the opportunity for which I longed. Hastily rising from my seat, I glided unnoticed from tree to tree, until I reached a copse on the left of the glen, and advancing up the ravine, under cover of this screen, I re-entered the path at the bend some distance above the St. Clairs. Here I listened for a moment, and caught the sound of their approach- ing voices, Determining no longer to be a listener to their conversation, I proceeded down the glen, and, as I turned the corner, a few paces in advance, Icame full in sight of the approaching group. In an instant the gay deni hing, of the party ceased, and I saw Annette shrink blushing behind her fa- ther. Isabel was the first to speak. Darting for- ward, with that frankness and gayety which al- ways characterized her, she grasped my hand, and said: “You don’t know how happy we all are to see you. Where could you have come from?—and how could you have made such a mistake as to con u- late Annette, instead of me, on being married? But come, I must surrender you to the others—I see they are dying to speak to you. Uncle, Annette— how lucky it was that we came here to-day!” ““My dear boy,’’ said Mr. St. Clair, yee press- ing my hand, “I can not tell how rejoiced 1 am to see you. We heard a rumor that you were lost, and we all wept—Isabel for the first timein years. It was but a few days since, that we heard you were at Newport, and, as we were coming hither, I hast- ened my journey, determined to search you out. We are on our way there now, and only stopped here a few minutes to relieve ourselves after a long ride. This day shall be marked with a white stone. But here I have been seeing: you from speaking to An- he Nit old men, you know, are apt to be garra- ous,” My eyes, indeed, had been seeking Annette, wh still covered with blu hes, and unable to con her embarrassment, sought to conceal them by keeping in the background. As for me I had be- come wonderfully self-possessed. I now advanced and took her hand. It trembled in my own, and when I spoke, though she replied faintly, she did not dare to look into my face, except for @ moment, after which her eyes again sought the ground in beautiful embarrassment. My unexpect ol ance, combined with her cousin’s late raillery, covered’ her face with blushes, and for some time she could not rally herself sufficiently to participate in the conversation. What more have I to tell? Iwas now or Er for my misanthropy, it died with the cause that pro- duced it. Mr. St. Clair said that the wedding need nette to thealtar. Years have flown since then, but I still enjoy unalloyed felicity, and Annette seems to my eyes more beautiful than ever. It only remains for me to bid my readers—FAREWELL! THE END, No. 129, Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, THE Guost or GorcGon’s GuLon. By Ed ward L. Wheeler. Ready Januarv 18th,