[Antiiustrated Edition

 

els

3

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by BEADLE AND Apaws, in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

 

 

No. 13.

EACH NUMBER COMPLETE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

———
“ Mother—jather—J ute muppy, (or we ohuct ineet in heaven.”

THE PRIVATEER'S CRUISE;
The Bride of Pomfret Hall.

 

BY HARRY

CAVENDISH.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE WRECK.

THE parting word had been said, the last look had been
taken, and my traps had all been snugly stowed away in the
narrow room which, for some years, was to be mv home.
I stood by the Starboard railing, gazing back on the dear
city I was leavin, and, despite the stoicism I had affected
daaiabbiactea teatiia A 2 tiseds Uae a mee SN Meson FF o* es
Entered aceording to Act of Congress. in the venr 1865, by Breanne axp Company, in the Clerk’s

Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.

when bidding farewell to my friends, I could not now pre-
vent a starting tear. Nor did my messmates seem in a more
sportive mood; for they could be seen, some in the rigging
and some leaning over the ship’s side, looking back on the
well-known landmarks of the town with a seriousness in their
aspect which betokened 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 who knew if
any of us would ever return again toour homes? ‘The
chances of war are at all times dreadful, but in our case they
were terribly increased by the flag under which we sailed,

 
2 NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

Who could tell whether the officers of the revolted colonies
might not be considered as traitors as well as rebels? Who
knew bat that the very first enemy we should meet would
either sink or hang us at the yard-arm? And yet, firm.in the
righteousness of our cause, and confiding in the God of bat-
tles, 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, Copp’s Hill alone stand-
ing up in solemn majesty over the shadowy city. The dis-
tant hum of the town died fainter and fainter on the dark-
ness, the evening breeze came up fresher across the waters,
the song of the fisherman and the dip of passing oars ceased,
and, one by one, the white saiis of the ships around us faded
away, at first seeming like faint clouds, but finally losing
themselves altogether in the darkness. All around was still.
The low monotonous ground-swell heaving under our counter,
and rippling faintly as it went, alone broke the witching si-
lence. Not a breath of air was stirring. The boatswain’s
whisile was hushed, the whisper had died away, no foot-
fall rose upon the stillness, but over shore and sea, earth
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 in port, and, in a
few moments, the harbor was alive with a long line of efful-
gence. A half-subdued halo now hung over the city. The
effect produced was like that of magic: Here a ship lay al-
most buried in gloom—there one was thrown out in bold re-
lief by the lights—now a tall warehouse rose shadowy into
the sky, and now one might be seen almost as distinctly as
at noonday. The lights streaming from the cabin windows
and dancing along the bay, the swell tinged on its crest with
silver, but dark as night below, and the far-off sails-gleam-
ing like shadowy specters through the uncertain light, added
double effect to the picture. And when the stars came out,
one by one, blinking high up in the firmament, and the wind
begun to sigh across the bay and_ wail sadly through our rig-
ging, the weird-like character of the prospect grew beyond
description. Hour after hour passed away, and we still con-

tinued g zing onetlre 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 myself, though I
sought my hammock, a succession of wild indistinct dreams
haunted me throughout the livelong night.

A pleasant breeze was singing through the rigging as I
mounted the gangway at dawn, and the tide having already
made, I knew no time would be lost in getting under way.
Directly the captain made his appearance, and, after a few
whispered words, the pilot issued his orders. In an instant
all was bustle. The boatswain’s whistle, calling all hands

- to their duty, was heard shrieking through the ship, and then
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 home and hoisted; the head yards were
braced aback and the after yards filled away; a sheer was
made with the helm; the anchor was tripped; the jib was
_hoisted; 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 light
breeze urging us on, we stood gallantly down the ‘bay. As
we increased our distance 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 frewned 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 appropriated to the mid-
shipmen, when I dove down the hatchway after the watch

had been set, They were as jovial a sct as I had ever seen,
and, although our acquaintance was but of twenty-four hours’
standing, we all felt. perfectly at home with cach other; and
as the salt beef was pushed from hand to hand, and the jug
passed merrily around, the mutual laugh and jest bore token
of our ‘right good fellowship.” '

O
Pes A DECUY. craft, my lads,” said a tall, fine-looking fellow, -

obviously the senior of the group, and whom I had been in-
troduced to as a Mx. O’Hara; ‘‘a pretty craft and a bold cap-
- tain we have, or I’m no judge. I’ve been at sea before, but

 

 

never in as gallant a ship as this. Here’s success to The Ar-
row—no heel-taps.”

The toast was drunk with a huzza, and O’Hara continued
the conversation, as if, under the circumstances, he felt that
he was the only proper person to play the host.

““Yowre most of you greenhorns, my boys—excuse 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 get-
ting pale already, 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 advice. 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 him-
self stares you in the face. Kick care to the wall, and be
merry while you may. But always have an eye to what is
due to your superiors. The captain’sa gentleman. God bless
him! ‘The first lieutenant, I’ve a notion, is a sour sinner—ne-
ver 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 let’s turn in, one and all,
for I’ve got the morning watch, and I’ve a notion this breeze
will have settled down into a regular hurricane, and be blow-
ing great guns and. marline-spikes before then.”

The air of easy good-humor with which O’Hara spoke, at-
tracted me to him at once. He was evidently my senior, and
had seen some service; but it was equally as evident that he
affected no superiority that was not his of right. I determin-
ed to know him better.

Tt was still dark when I was aroused from.sleep by the call-
ing 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 the rigging with an almost stunning voice, driving
the fine spray wildly along, and blowing with an intensity
that threatened to sweep one overboard. The men bent. be-
fore the blast, and wrapped in.their thick overcoats, stood
like statues half seen through the mist. The night was bit-
terly 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 atable, was a mass of driving foam.
The binnacle lamp burned faint and dim, with a sickly halo,
through the fog. Above, however, all was clear, except a

few white, fleecy clouds driven wildly across the frosty stars

that twinkled in the heavens. As I ran my eye along 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 tempest with nothing spread. but
a close-reefed maintop-sail, a reefed fore-course, and the
fore-topmast staysail, and even these, as they strained in the
gale, threatened momently to blow out into ribbons before
the resistless fury of the wind. Under this comparative press
of canvas Tne ARRow was skimming along, seeming to outvie
even the spray in velocity. And well it was she sped onward
with such hot haste!—for, on looking astern, I saw the billows
howling after us, surging on their white crests in fearful prox-
imity, and threatening at every surge to roll in over our taff-
rail. Wilder and wilder, more and even more fiercely they —
raced each other in the pursuit, like a pack of famished
wolves pitching and yelling after their prey.

“ Keep 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 go—but as the canvas is new I
think they will stand.”

“Ship ahoy!” shouted a look-out at this moment, starting
up as though a thunderbolt had fallen at our feet, ‘‘a ship
athwart hawse.”

‘Where, where?” exclaimed both the officers incredulously.

‘‘ Olose under our fore-foot—a brig, sir.”

“ My God, we sliall run her down,” was the exclamation of
the second lieutenant.

All eyes were instantly turned im the direction of the ap-
proaching danger, and there, sure enough, directly 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 placés with -an almest impervious fog, having
hitherto concealed her from our sight. It was evident that
the inmates of the brig had just discovered us, for her helm
wag rapidly shifted, and a few hurried orders, whose import
we could not make out, were given on board of her. All,

 
THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 3

indeed, seemed confusion on the decks of the unhappy
craft. . Her crew were hurrying 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 companion-way and
to crown all, the sheets were let fly, and with a wild lurch
she rolled over, and Jay the next moment wallowing in the
sea, broadside.on.. I could almost have jumped on her decks,
All this passed with therapidity of thought. Neyer shall I for-
get the shriek of horror which burst simultaneously from both
vessels at this fearful erisis. 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!.al-
most before another breath could be drawn, the collision must
take place. But the lightning is not quicker. than the officer
of the deck.

“ Port—a-port—ha-a-rd, Hard,” he thundered, grinding the
words betwixt his teeth in his excitement, and waving his
hand to larboard, and the helmsman, taking his cue more from
the gesture 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 im-

ulse like a steed beneath the spur, swept around to starboard.
Sor a second 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 posi-
tion. A cry of joy was already rising to my lips; but, at
that instant, I heard: a crash, followed by a dull, grinding
noise, and simultaneously I beheld the brig come. into colli-
sion with us just abaft the cathead, and while all our timbers
quivered with the shock, she whirled away astern, rolling and
rubbing frightfully, and half-buried inthe brine. A shriek
rent the air on the instant, whose thrilling tones haunted me
for days and nights, and seems even now to ring in my ears.

‘*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.”
{tis a libel on sailors to say they never feel. No men are

more ready to aid the unfortunate. On the present occa-
sion the crew seemed inspired with an energy equal to that
of their officer, and springing 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
our proud craft obeying her helm, came gallantly 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 conclud-
ing words left his mouth, the maneuver was finished, and we
rode against the wind, rising and falling om the swell, and
flinging the spray to our fore-yard arm as we thumped against
the seas.

My first thought was of the brig. As soon, therefore, as
our craft had been hove to, I cast a hurried glance over the
starboard bow to search for the unfortunate vessel. I de-
tected her at once lying a short distance on our weather bow,
—and it was evident that the injury she had sustained was
of the most serious character, for even through the mist we
fancied we could see that she was settling deeper in the wa-
ter. Her officers were endeavoring to heave her to again;
while rising over their orders, and swelling above all the up-
roar of the hurricane, we could hear the despairing wail of
her passengers. At length she lay to a few fathoms on our
starboard bow, ‘drifting, however, at every surge bodily to
leeward. Confusion still reigned on her decks. 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 expostula-
tion with the men. A group of female figures also was dis-
cernible on the quarter-deck, and a manly form was visible
in the midst, as if exhorting them to courage. At the sight

‘a thri!l of anguish ran through our breasts. We 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 tempest, and when any attempt to rescue them
‘would only entail ruin on the adventurers, without aiding
those we would preserve? As I thought of the impossibility
of rendering succor to those shrinking females, as | dwelt on
the lingering agonies they would have to endure, as I pic-
tured 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 reel-
ed around, and I could with difficulty prevent myself from

 

falling, so great was my emotion. But rallying my spirits
I tried to persuade myself it was alla dream. I strained my
eyes through the mist to see whether I might not be mis-
taken—to discover if possible some hope for the forlorn be-
ings on board the brig. But, alas, if was in vain, There
were the white dresses blowing about in the gale as the two
females knelt on the deck and clung to their protector—there
was the crew mustered at. the pumps, while jets of brine
were pouring from the scuppers—and there were the crushed
and splintered bulwarks betokening that the 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. could
have borne my doom without a murmur; but to see 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 dreadful scene, .Nor were my emo-
tions confined to myself. Not a 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 volun-
teers, all alike owned the impulses of humanity, and stood
gazing, silent, spell-bound, and horror-struck, on the ill-fated
brig and her despairing passengers. At this instant a gray-
haired man, whom we knew at once to be her-skipper, sprung
into the main-rigging of the wreck, and placing his hands to
his mouth, while his long silvery locks blew out disheveled
on the gale, shouted:

‘“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 gestures, that
he had hailed, but the old man could not hear the words in
the uproar of theygale, 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 im-
aginations, it seemed as if the brig was visibly going down
as the skipper ceased speaking. itis words sounded in our
ears like the knell of hope. A pause of several seconds—a
deep, solemn, awe-inspiring pause—during which every eye
was fixed on the battered vessel. Each 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 useless to attempt hold-
ing any communication with her, for no human voice, even
though speaking in a voice of thunder, could be heard against
the gale. The two vessels were, moreover, rapidly increas-
ing the space betwixt them—and, although. objects on the
deck of the brig had been at first clearly perceptible in the
starlight, they had gradually grown dimmer as she receded
from us, until now they could scarcely be seen. There was
no alternative, therefore, 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 finally descended to the
deck, waving his hand mournfully in adieu.

Meantime the aspect of the heavens had materially changed.
When I first came on deck, the stars, as I have said, were
out bright on high, with only a few scud clouds now and
then chasing each other over the firmament, Even then, how-
ever, I had noticed a small, black cloud extending across the
western horizon, and giving an ominous aspect to the whole
of that quarter of the sky. But during the last half-hour my
attention had been so engrossed by the events I have just re-
lated, that I lost all consciousness of this circumstance. Now.
however, the increasing darkness recalled it to my mind, i
looked up. Already dark and ragged clouds, precursors of
the vast body of vapors following behind, were dimming the
stars overhead, now wrapping the decks in almost total dark-
ness, and now, flitting by and leaving 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 in proportion. The spray no longer
flew by in showers, but the white caps of the billows as they
rolled up in the uncertain light, had a ghastliness that thrilled
the heart with a strange emotion, almost amounting to super-
stitious 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 spray high over

 
   

4

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

the forecastle, and often sending its foam as far back as the
main hatchway.

The huge 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, twink-
ling sharp and serene, just under the edge’ of that ominous
cloud, but casting only a faint and dreamy radiance around
them, and in vain attempting to penetrate the gloom higher
up inthe sky. The brig was last seen to the northwest where
the darkness had become most intense. She was still doubt-
less in that quarter, but no trace of her could be discerned.

‘*Tt’s as black up yonder as the eye of death,” said the cap-
tain, ‘‘ and I can see nothing there but a dense impenetrable
shadow—your sight is better, Mr. Duval,” he continued, ad-
dressing the first lieutenant; ‘‘ can you make out anything?”
The officer shook his head. ‘‘ Well, we will hail, at any rate.
I would not have run afoul of them for my commission!”

The hail rung out startlingly on the night and every ear
listened for the response. No answer came,

‘* Again!” said the captain.

‘* A-ho-o-y !—Hil-lo-o0-0-0!”

A second of breathless suspense followed, and then another,
when we were about giving up 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. It fell on
our listening ears like a lamentation from the dead.

‘‘ Heaven preserve us!” solemnly said the captain, ‘‘ ’m
afraid all is over with them.”

‘*Amen!” ejaculated the lieutenant, and for an instant
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.
I wouldn’t for the world desert this neighborhood; God

ant we may find some vestige of the brig when morning

awns.”

The hurried orders of the officer of the deck to prepare for
the coming hurricane had scarcely been given and executed,
before it seemed to us as if we could see, even amid the black-
ness of darkness to the north, the whirling motion of gigantic
clouds, and almost simultaneously with a roar as of ten thou-
sand batteries, this new tempest was upon us. Its first fury
‘was beyond description—surpassing imagination—defying be-
lief. tt howled, shrieked, and bellowed through the rigging
in such awful and varied tones, that the oldest hearts were
chilled with fear. It was as if the last convulsive throe of a
world was at hand. It wasas if the whole fury of the cle-
ments had been’collected for one last effori—as if tortured
nature, made frantic by agony, had broke loose from her tor-
mentors—as if the mighty deep itself, in horror-struck peni-
tence, was thundering its awful ‘‘ de profundis” 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 foundering of
our ship—for, during several minutes, it appeared to me asif
every. second was to be our last. Torrents of water, mean-
while, swept in sheets from the crests of the billows, were whirl-
ing like smoke-wreaths along the decks—while the ravening
surges, faintly seen like shadows through ‘the gloom, chased
zack other in wild and rapid succession along our sides. All
was darkness, doubt, and terror.

But happily the duration of the squall was proportioned to
its intensity, and, in less than five minutes, the hurricane be-
gan to decrease in violence. After the lapse of a short period
more the gale rapidly subsided, although its power was still
considetable. Before half an hour, however, we were lying
to as near to our old. position as we could attain—having suf-
fered no ioss except that of our maintopsail, 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 captain, in a
melancholy tone, when we were once more snugly hove to;
‘‘how many souls are in eternity the All-Seeing Eye only
knows! Keep her here,” he added, after a pause, turning to
descend to his cabin, and ‘addressing the oflicer 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 position,

 

 

maintaining a sharp look-out in every direction. But I shall
be 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 whistle of the
winds, except the tread of the men, or the ery of ‘‘ all’s well,”
passing 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 firma-
ment. Yet the waves still rolled mountain high around us,
now heaving their snowy crests above us in the sky, and
now rolling their dark 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 boundless ex-
panse 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 ex-
cept the ill-fated brig. I felt an unaccountable: interest in’
her. It seemed as if some unknown sympathy existed be-
twixt me and those on board of her, as if my destiny in some
mysterious manner was connected with theirs. I could not
rest on deek, but ascending to the cross-trees I took my sta-
tion, and gazed out anxiously over the waste of waters,
Our ship had, by this time, been put about, and we were
now, as near as I could judge, in the vicinity of the spot
where the collision occurred. The moment came which was
either to realize or confirm my fears. A strange emotion
took possession of me. My heart beat nervously, my breath
came heavily, I trembled in every fiber of my system. I
strained my eyes in every direction around, and, once or
twice, as a billow rolled its white crest upward, I fancied I
saw a sail—but, alas! my agitation had 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 away, the officers and men, one by one left
the rigging, until finally even the captain gave up the search,
and issued a reluctant order to put the ship away on her
course. 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 sea 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 sail!” I shouted, almost in a phrensy; ‘‘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—crowded with human beings!”

‘God be praised!—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 gallant ship
wheeled around and in a few moments the brig’s launch was
rocking under our bows.

The discipline of a man-of-war could scarcely suppress 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 forward in triumph—while our superior
grasped the hand of the rescued skipper with visible emo-
tion. 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 interest-
ing group. Both the females were young and beautiful, but
one was surpassingly lovely. 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 cap-
tain.

“Tt 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, All night long we were
tossed at the mercy of the waves. We 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 ? e owe him our eternal grati-
tude.” ;

All eyes were instantly turned toward me, and the captain,
taking me by the hand, said:

i

tif

 

 
 

 

 

ee

 

 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 5

 

‘Mr. Cavendish has that enviable honor,” at the same time
presenting me. geen ;

“Cavendish!” exclaimed a silvery female voice in delighted
surprise. : :

At the mention of that name I looked up with eager curi-
osity, 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 as she 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, ANNETTE! :

‘“Cavendish—what, little Henry Cavendish?” exclaimed
the gentleman, eagerly scizing my hand. ‘‘ Yes! 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, my gallant young friend! We
owe you our lives—our all.”

The scene that ensued I will not attempt to describe. Suf-
fice it to say I retired that night with a whirl of strange
emotions at my heart. ,

 

CHAPTER 1.
THE ESCAPE.

TuE night after the rescue of the passengers and crew of
the brig was to me, a restless one.. I could not sleep. Hour
after hour I lay in my hammock eagerly courting repose, but
unable to find it, for the images of the past crowded on my
brain, and kept me in a feverish excitement that drove slum-
berfrom my pillow. My thoughts were of my boyhood,—
of Promfret Hall,—of my early schoolmate—and of his little
seraph-like sister, Annette. was back once more in the
sunny past. Friends whom I had long forgotten,—scenes
which had become strangers to me—faces which I once knew,
but which had faded from my memory, came thronging
back upon.me, as if by some magic impulse, until 1 seemed
to be once more shouting by the brookside, galloping over
is hills, or singing at the side of sweet Annette at Pomfret

all.

I was the son of a decayed family. My parents lived in
honorable poverty. But, though reduced in fortune, they
had lost none of the spirit of their ancestors. Their ambi-
tion-was to see their son a gentleman, and a man of educa-
tion. I had accordingly been cay put to school, prepara-
tory to a college education. Here I met with a youth of my
own age, a proud, high-spirited, gener$us boy, Stanhope St.
Clair. He was the heir of a wealthy and ancient family,
whose residence, not far from Boston, combined baronial
splendor with classic taste. We formed a fast friendship.

e was a year or two my senior, and being stronger than
myself, became my protector in our various school-frays;
this united me to him by the tie of gratitude. ere en
vacation I spent a month at his house; here I met his little
sister, a sweet-tempered, innocent fairy, some four or five
years my junior. Even at that early age I experienced emo-
tions toward. her which J am even now wholly unable to
analyze, but they came nearer the sentiment of love than any
other feeling. She was so beautiful and sweet-tempered, so
innocent and frank, so bright, sunny, and smiling, so_ infi-
nitely 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 approaching to adoration. Yet I felt no re-
serve in her society. Her frankness made me: perfectly at
home. We played, sung, and laughed together, as if life
had nothing for us but sunshine and joy. How often did
those old woods, the quaintly carved hall, the green and smil-
ing lawn; ring with our gladsome merriment. We studied,
too, together, and as I sat playfully at her feet, looking now
on her book and now in her eyes, while her long’ silken
tresses undulated in the breeze and frolicked over my face,
I experienced sensations of strange pleasure unlike any thing

had ever experienced.. At length the time came when 1
was to leave this Eden. 1 remember how desolate I felt on
that day, but. how from pride in my sex I struggled to hide
my emotions. Annette made no attempt to conceal her sor-
row. She flung herself into my arms and wept long and bit-

terly.. It was the grief of a child, but it filled my heart with,

sunshine, and dwelt in my memory for years. ‘
I returned to school, but my playmate was always in my
thoughts, In dream or awake, at my tasks or in play, loiter-

 

ing under the forest trees or wandering 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 pre-
sent to my imagination. It may seem strange that such
emotions should occupy the mind of a mere boy; but so it
was. At length, however, St. Clair tooksickand died. How
bitter was my grief at this event. It was the first thing that
taught me what real sorrow was. This occurrence broke up
my intimacy with the St. Clair family, for, young as I was
I could perceive that my presence would be a pain to the
family, by continually reminding them of their lost boy. I
never therefore visited Pomfret Hall again—but often would
‘h red in the vicinity, hoping to catch a glance of Annette,
But I was unsuccessful. 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 common, and
therefore no medium of communication. God knew whe-
ther she thought of me. Her parents, though kind, had al-
ways atted toward me as if an impassable barrier existed be-
twixt the haughty St. Clairs and the beggared Cavendish,
and now that their son was no more they doubtless had for-
gotten me. Such thoughts filled my mind as I grew up.

he busy avocations of life interfered, my father died and
left me penniless, and, to insure a subsistence for my mother
and myself, I went to sea. The dreams 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. ;

Lhad seen Annette only for a moment, as the fatigue 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 recogni-
tion—would she greet me with the same joy when we met
again? How would her father receive me? A thousand such
thoughts kept me long awake—and when at length I fell into
a troubled sleep, it was to dream of Annette.

When I awoke, the morning watch was being called, and
springing from my hammock I was soon at my post on deck.
The sky was clear, the waves had gone down, and a gentle
breeze was singing through the rigging. To have gazed
around on the almost unruffled sea one would never have im-
agined the fury with which it had raged scarcely forty-eight
hours ago.

Early in the day Mr. St. Clair appeared on deck, and hig
first words were to renew his thanks to me of the day before.
He alluded delicately to past times, and reproved me gently.
for having suffered the intimacy betwixt me and his family
to decline. He concluded by hoping that, in future, our
friendship—for such he called it—would suffer no diminu-
tion. .
I was 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 recognition was even sweeter than that of the day be-
fore. I bowed, but could not leave my duty, else I should
have flown to herside, Itis strange what emotions her smiles
awakened inmy bosom. I could scarcely attend to the exe-,
cution of my orders, so wildly did my brain whirl with feel-
ings of ecstatic joy. At length my duty was performed. But
then a new emotion seized me. I wished and yet I feared to.
join Annette. But I mustered courage to go aft, and no.
sooner had I reached the quarter-deck, than Mr. St. Clair.
beckoned me to his side. ;

“Annette,” said he, ‘‘ has scarcely yet given you her thanks. -
She has not forgotten you, indeed she was the first to recog-.
nize you yesterday. You remember, love, don’t you?” he,
said, turning to his daughter, ‘‘the summer Mr. Cavendish
spent with us at the Hall. It was you, I believe, who shed so.
many tears at his departure.”

He said this gayly, but it called the color into his daughter’s,
cheek. Perhaps he noticed this, for he instantly resumed in.
a different tone. ?

“But see, Annette, here comes the captain, and I suppose.
you would take a turn on the quarter deck. Your cousin will
accompany him—Mr. Cavendish must be your chaperon.” :

We were still conversing when my attention was called,
away by the cry of the look-out that a sail was to be seen to,
windward. Instantly every eye was turned over the weather-.
beam, for she was the first sail reported since the gale. An,
officer seized a glass, and, hurrying to the mast-head, reported,
that the stranger was considered a heavy craft, although, as
yet, nothing but his royals could be seen. As we were beat-
ing up to the windward and the stranger was coming free to-
 

 

 

 

 

6 NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

ward us, the distance betwixt the two vessels rapidly decreas-
ed, so that in a short time the upper sails of the stranger could
be distinctly seen from the deck. His topgallant-yards were
now plainly visible from the cross-trees, and the officer aloft
reported that the stranger was either a heavy merchantman
or a frigate. ‘This increased the excitement on deck, for we
knew there were no vessels of that grade in our navy, and if
the approaching sail should-proveto be a man-of-war and an
Englishman, our chances of escape would be slight, as he had
the weather gauge of us, and appeared, from the velocity
with which he approached us, to be a fast sailer, The offi-
cers crowded on the quarter-deck, the crew thronged every
favorable point for a look-out, and the ladies, gathering
around Mr. St. Clair and myself, gazed out as eagerly as our-
selves in the direction of the stranger, At length her topsails
began to lift.

“** Hal” said the captain, “She has an enormous swing.
What think you of him, Mr. Massey?” he asked, shutting the
Blass violently, and handing it to his lieutenant.

- The officer addressed took the telescope and gazed for a
minute on the stranger.

TT know that craft,” he said, energetically; ‘‘sheisa heavy
frigate—the Ajax—I served in her some eight years since. 1

snow her by the peculiar lift of her topsail.”

ot ANT gaid the captain; ‘you are sure?” he continued,

xamining her through-his glass again; ‘‘she does indeed
seem a heavy craft, and we have but one chance—we should
surely fight her?”

Tf you ask me,” said the lieutenant, “‘I say no! Wh
that craft could blow us out of the waterin a couple of broad-
sides; she throws a weight of metal treble our own.”

*© Then there is but one thing to do—we must wear, and
fake to our heels—a stern chase is proverbially a long
one.”
© During this conversation not a word had been spoken in our

oup; but I had noticed that when the lieutenant revealed

e strength of the foe, the cheek of Annette for a moment
rew pale. Her emotion, however, continued but a moment.
nd when our ship had been wore, and we were careering be
fore the wind, her demeanor betrayed none of that nervous-
ness which characterized her consin.

“ Can ‘they overtake us, Mr. Cavendish?” said her compan-
ion. ‘‘ Ob! what a treacherous thing the sea is. Here we
were returning only from Charleston to Boston, yet ship-
wrecked and almost lost—and now pursued by an enemy and
perhaps destined to be captured.”

(“Fear not, sweet coz,” laughingly said Annette. “Mr.
@avendish would scarcely admit that any ship afloat could
outsail The Arrow and’ you see what a start we have in the
race. Besides, you heard Captain Smyth just now say,
that, when night came, he hoped to be able to drop the ene-
my altogether. Are they pursuing ns yet, Mr: Cavendish?”

« “Oh, yes! they have been throwing out their light sails for
the last quarter of an hour—see, there go some more of
their kites. ’

~ © But will we not also spread more canvas?".

I was saved the necessity of a reply by an order from the
officer of the deck to spread our studding-sails, and duty
called meaway. I left the ladies in charge of Mr. St. Clair,
and hurried away to my post. For the next half-hour I was
so occupied that I had little opportunity to think of Annette,
and indeed the most of my time was spent below in superin-

tending the work of the men. When I returned on deck the

chase was progressing with vigor, and it was very evident that
The Arrow, though a fast. sailer, was hard pressed. ' Every
stitch of canvas that could be made to draw was spread, but
the stranger astern had, notwithstanding, considerably in-
creased on the horizon since I left the deck. The officers
were beginning to exchange ominous looks, and the faces of
our passengers wore an anxious expression. One or two of the
Elders of the crew were squinting suspiciously at the stran-
ger. The captain, however, wore his usual open front, buta
close observer might have noticed that my superior glanced
every moment at the pursuer, and then ran his eye as if un-
consciously up our canvas. At this moment the cry of ‘a
sail” rung down from the mast-head, startling us asif we had
heard a voice from the dead, for so intense had been the in-
terest with which we had regarded our pursuer, that not
an cye gazed in any direction except astern. The captain
looked quickly around the horizon, and hailing the look-out,
shouted: »
‘“Whereaway ?”
‘On the starboard bow.”
~“ What does he look like?” continued Captain Smyth to

 

me, for Thad taken the glass at once, and was now far on my
way to the cross-trees.

‘“ He seems a craft about a8 heavy as our own.”

“How now?” asked the captain, when sufficient space
had elapsed to allow the top-sails of the new visitor to be
seen. ‘

‘She has the jaunty cut of a corvette,” IT replied. | ~

A short space of time—a delay of breathless interest—suf-
ficed to betray the character of the ship 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, plunged in-
to the sea a few fathoms ahead of our bow. For a moment
we looked at each other in dismay at this new danger. Wo
saw that we were beset. A powerful foe was coming up
with us hand over hand astern, and a craft fully our equal
was heading us off. Escape seemed impossible, “The ladies,
who still kept the deck, turned pale and Clung closer to their
protector’s arm. The crew were gloomy. ’ The officers look-
ed perplexed. But the imperturbable calm of. the captain
suffered no diminution. He had already ordered the crew to
their quarters, and the decks were now strewed with prepara-
tions for the strife.

“We will fight him,” he said; ‘‘ we will cripple or sink
him, and than keep on our way, But let not a shot be fired
until I give the order. Steady, quartermaster, steady.”

By this time I had descended.to the deck, ready to take my
post at quarters. The ladies still kept the deck, but the cap-
tain’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: -“

“Tam afraid, my dear Miss St. Clair, that this will soon’ be
no place for you or oi fair companion. Allow my to send
you to a place of safety, Ah! here is Mr. Cavendish, he will
conduct you below.”

“Oh! Mr. Cavendish,” said Isabel, with a tremulous voice,
‘ig 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 confident assertion of vie-
tory, although, God knows, I scarcely dared to entertain
the hope of such a result. It reassured my fair companions,
however, and I thought that the eyes of Annette at least ex-
pressed the gratitude which did not find vent in words.

“We will not forget you in our prayers,” said Isabel, as I
prepared to reascend to the deck; ‘‘farewell+-may—may we
meet again!”

‘God bless you and our other defenders,” said Annette.
She would have added more, but. her voice lost its firmness.
She could only extend her hand. I grasped ‘it, pressed ‘it
betwixt both of mine, and then ‘tore myself away. As I
turned from them, I thought I heard a sob. I know that
a tear-drop was on that délicate hand when I pressed it in
my own.

When I reached the deck, 1 found Mr. St. Clair already
at his post, for he had volunteered to aid in the approach-
ing combat. Nor‘was that combat long delayed. We were
now Close onto the corvette, but yet not a shot had been fired
from our batteries, although the enemy was beginning a
rapid and furious cannonade, under which our brave tars
chafed like chained lions. Many a tanned and sun-browned
veteran glared fiercely on the foe, and even looked curiously
and doubtingly on his officers, as the balls of the corvette
camé hurtling rapidly and more rapidly toward us, and when
at length a shot dismounted one of our carriages and laid
four of our brave fellows dead on the deck, the excitement
of the men became almost uncontrollable. At this imstant,
however, the corvette yawed, bore up, and ran off with the
wind on her-quarter. Quick as lightning Captain Smyth
availed himself of the bravado.

“Lay her alongside, quartermaster,” he thundered.

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the old water-rat, and a a
few breathless moments of suspense we crowded silently after
the corvette. That suspense, however was of short dura-
tion. We were now on the quarter of the enemy. The cap-
tain paused no longer, but waving his sword, he shoutell
“Fire,” and simultaneously our broadside was poured in,
like a hurricane of fire, on the foe. Nor during ten minutes
was there any intermission in our fire. The combat was ter-

rific. The men jerked out their pieces like playthings, and _

we could soon hear over even the din of ‘the conflict, the

crashing of the enemy’s hull and the falling of his spars.

The rapidity and certainty of our fire meanwhile seemed to
have paralyzed the foe, for his broadsides were delivered with

pe

 

 

 

 

 
 

ST SN

 

~
—

Pas eae

 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 7

 

little of the fury which he had been led to expect. _ His fore-
mast at length went by the board. The silence of our crew
was now first broken, and a deafening huzza rose up from
them, shaking the very welkin ‘vith the uproar.

‘* Another broadside, my brave fellows,” said Captain
Smyth, ‘‘ and then lay aloft and crowd all sail—I think she'll
hardly pursue us,”

eas. boys, pour it into her,” shouted a grim-visaged
captain of a gun; ‘‘ give hera parting shake, huzza!”’

ike a volcano in its might—like an earthquake reeling by
—sped that fearful broadside on itserrand. We did not pause
to see what. damage we had done, but while the ship yet
uivered with the discharge, the men sprung aloft, and. be-
ore the smoke had rolled. away from the decks, our canvas
was once more straining in the breeze, and we were rapidly
leaving our late enemy. When the prospect cleared up, we
could see her lying a hopeless wreck astern. The frigate
which during the conflict, had drawn close upon. us, was now
sending her shots like hailstones over us, but when she came
abreast of her consort she was forced to stop, as our late foe
by this.time had hung out a signal of distress, We could see
that boats, laden with human beings, were putting, off. from
the corvette to the frigate, which proved that se tate antag-
onist was in a sinking condition. Before an hour she blew
up. with a tremendous explosion.

I was the first one to hurry below and relieve the suspense
of Annette. and her cousin by apprising them of our success.
A few. hours repaired the damage we had sustained, and he-
fore nightfall the frigate was out of sight astern, So ended
our first conflict with the enemy.

CHAPTER III,
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 daugh-
ter, 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 tip-
ping the tops of the billows, and stretching in a long line of
effulgence across the waters. A gentle breeze was singing,
with a clear and musical intonation, among the thousand tiny
threads of the rigging. The water rippled pleasantly against
the sides of the ship. Not far off lay asmall rakish schooner,
from which the sound of a bugle, borne gently on the night
air, floated in delicious melody to our ears, The decks were
noiseless. The quiet moon seemed as if, by some magic spell,
she had hushed the deep into silence, for scarcely a sound rose
up from the heaving waves, which, glittering now inthe wake
of the moon, and now sinking into sudden shadow, stretched
away in the distance until they faded into the dim mystic
haze of the distant seaboard. The whole scene was like a
yision of romance.

The group which I have mentioned stood at the gangway
of the ship. A boat was rocking gently below. The passen-

ers, Whom we had rescued from the brig, were about trans-

erring themselves to the schooner lying to. a short distance
off, which we had spoken about an hour before, and which
proved to be a small privateer bound in for Newport. As
we were off Block Island and the run would consequently be
a 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 I am sure that my daughter
and niece will give you their especial prayers, as the best re-
turn they can make for the obligations they owe you. And
as for my friend, Mr, Cavendish—I hardly know how to ex-
press my thanks. You will come and see us?” he continued,
turning frankly to me, and taking both my hands, ‘‘ Pomfret
Hall will always open its doors gladly to welcome the preser-
ver of its owner.” Pent

I promised that I would not forget it, and turned evar. to

air,

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.

 

What meant that earnest gaze—this sudden embarrassment?
Did she then really love me? My heart beat fast, my brain
fairly swam around, my emotion, for an instant, almost ovyer-
powered me. I could, if no one had been present, have
rushed to her 2et and told her my suit. But a moment’s re-
flection chang | the current of my thoughts, Perhaps she
had noticed my feeling while her father had been speaking.
If so her, her subsequent emotion arose from being detected
in observing me. I ran over every thing which had happen-
ed since she had been.on board, and could find nothing cor-
roborating,. directly, the idea that she loved me. Her man-
ner had always been frank and kind; but what had she said
or done to give me hope? As these thoughts rushed through
my mind my towering hopes fell. The revulsion was extreme.
I despaired now as much as I had exulted but a moment be-
fore. . 1 was about to turn gloomily away, when the voice of
Isabel called me. .Llooked up. She was beckoning me gay-
ly toward her.as she leaned on Annette’s arm. ;

‘Why, I. declare, Mr. Cavendish,” she said, laughingly,
“you seem to be determined to let us depart without even
saying ‘‘adieu ’—a pretty gallant, you are, to be sure! Here
is Annette really displeased at your coldness.” if

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 my sentiments again. underwent a change. Had
Annette seal been wondering at my coldness?, How unjust
then had. been my suspicions... 1 advanced. cagerly to her
side, yet. when I had done so I knew not what to say, Isabel
seemed not only to see my embarrassment but to enjoy. it,
She continued gayly: 4

‘“There, now, do your devoir like a gallant knight and solr
dier—coz, have you no glove or other favor for him to wear
on his bosom in battle? Ah; me! the days of courtesy and
chivalry have gone forever. But there—I see uncle order
ing down my package; I must see that he does mot let it, drop
clumsily overboard,” and she tripped laughingly away. .

Left almost teie-a-tete with Annette—for every eye was at
that moment turned to the gangway where some of the pas-
sengers were already embarking, I yet felt unable to avail
myself of an opportunity for which I had longed. A single
word would decide my fate, and. yet that word J could not
pronounce. My boldness had all disappeared, and I stood
before the fair girl equally agitated with herself. At length
I 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. Words of fire were already on my lips when
her father turned toward us, saying—

“Annie, my love, they wait for you—Mr. Cavendish, @
last good-by ”—and.as he spoke every eye was turned to-
ward us. The precious moment was past. I could do noth-
ing but lead Annette forward. Yet 1 ventured to press her
hand. My senses deceived me, or it was faintly, thou:
very faintly, returned. I would have pen worlds, if I h
them, for the delay of a minute, that I might learn my fate
from the lips of that fair girl. But it was not tobe. .We
were already in the center of the group. Mr. St. Clair took
his daughter and lifted her into the chair, and in another mo-
ment her white dress fluttered in its descent to the boat. M.
heart died within me. The golden moment had. passe
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. Clai
stood up in the barge, and bowed in return, while I thou,

I ‘Sonia see the fair hand of Annette returning my parting
adieus.

I watched the receding figures until they reached ue
schooner, and even after they had ascended the deck, an
the two vessels had parted each on its own way, I continued
gazing on the white dress of Annette until I could no longer

etect the faintest shadow of it. When at length it disap-
peared totally in the distance, I felt a loneliness of the heath
such as no language can express. To a late hour I continu
pensively walking the deck, unable to shake off this feeling,
and it was only a gay remark of one of the messmates that
finally aroused me from my abstraction. I shook off my
pensiveness by an effort, laughed gayly in reply, and soon
sought my hammock, as my spirits would not permit me
much longer to carry on this double game.

For a week we cruised in the track of the home-bound
fleet from the West Indies, but without success. Duri
this time Annette was constantly in my thoughts. Her las
look—that gentle pressure of the hand, thrilled through every
     

 

8

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

‘vein, as often as they recurred tome. Never could I forget
ther—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 conse-
quence soon 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 to for a moment’s conver-
sation. The French merchantman was a noble ship, and as
she came up gallantly toward us, her long bowsprit sunk
far down into the trough of the wave, and then, with a slow,
awan-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, glistened gloriously in the
sunbeams.
©:The Frenchman backed his top-sails as he drew near, and
the two vessels stood head on, while we sent a boat on board.
The merchantman proved to be upon her homeward passage,
and had consequently no intelligence from Europe to furnish
‘us. But the French skipper told us what was far more in-
teresting to us. He mentioned that he had but the day be-
fore, fallen in with the homeward bound English fleet, from
‘the West Indies, anounting to some sixty sail. The fleet was
cGonvoyed by four men-of-war. Our captain, however, re-
solved 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 skipper
wished usa ‘‘ bon voyage,” and the two vessels parted com-

pany.

€ e cracked on all sail, during the whole of the day and
night.. The next morning, at the dawn of day, our look-out
descried the English flect, on our larboard side. Luckily,
‘we had the weather gage. We kept crowding on our can-
vas, however, during the whole 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 insight. By this time the men-of-
war had caught the alarm, and were firing guns to call their
flock around them. The dull sailers, 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 coquetting to windward, but no demonstrations against
us. were’ made on the part of the men-of-war.

o** A cowardly set, by the Lord Harry,” said our old boat-
swain, who often beguiled a dull hour with a yarn. ‘‘ Here
are we giving them a chance for a fair fight, and the coward-
ly lubbers haven’t the pluck to come up and take or give a
thrashing. I can’t stand such sneaking scoundrels—by St.
George,” and the old fellow energetically squirted a stream of
tobacco-jtice from his mouth, as if from a force-pump.

We'll’ have a brush with them, nevertheless, Hinton,”
paid I, “or I know. nothing of the’ captain. He has got his
eyes on more than one rich prize in that fleet, and depend on
it, he'll make a dash for it before long.”

» ** Ay!t ay! you’re right,” answered the boatswain, ‘‘ and
he'll do it, too, before two bells have struck in the morning
watch.”

* The night shut in ay and dark. The fleet was some
three miles to leeward, for during the whole day we had care-
fully maintained the weather gage.

As the darkness increased, we lost sight of the enemy’s
ships, but their numerous lights, glistening like stars alon
the seaboard, still pointed out to us their position. The win
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 appearance
to the firmament. Down to the west the seaboard was coy-
ered by a dense bank of clouds, out of which occasionally a
flash of lightning would zig-zag, followed by a low, hoarse
growl of distant thunder, It was evident that a tempest was
raging far down in that quarter, On the opposite horizon,
however, the sky was nearly free from clouds, only a few
fleecy vapors being discernible in that quarter, through which
the bright stars twinkled clear and lustrous. The English
fleet lay between these two opposite quarters of the horizon
—the right wing of the convoy stretching down almost into
the utter darkness in that direction, and the left wing skirt-

 

ing along the horizon to the eastward. All along the whole
expanse of seaboard, more than fifty lights were now glitter-
ing, like so many fire-flies winging through the gloom along
the edge of the forest on a summer’eve.. The scene was one
of surpassing novelty, and drew forth the admiration even
of our veteran tars. Now and then the vapors in the east
would clear entirely away, leaving the firmamentiin that di-
rection, Sparkling with thousands of stars; and then again
the murky shroud would inclose them in nearly total dark-
ness. Occasionally, 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 down upon the fleet—taking the
precaution, however, to put out all the lights on board ex-
cept the one at the binnacle: Meanwhile the men were call-
ed to quarters, the tompions of the guns removed, the am-
munition 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 in-
creased, 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 thé long line of lights spark-
ling along the seaboard, betraying the position occupied by
the various vessels in the convoy, we should have possessed
no guide to our prey,—and nothing but the confidence félt

by the enemy in his superior force could have induced him”

to continue his lights aboard when otherwise he might have
run a chance of dropping us in the darkness. But he never
dreamed of the bold swoop which we projected into the
very midst of his flock. He would as soon have thought of
our blockading the Thames, or burning the English fleet of
Portsmouth.

The plan of Captain Smyth was indeed a bold one. Bear-
ing right onward into the very center of the fleet, he intend-
ed to cut off one of the wings from the main body, and then
board and take possession of as many of the merchantmen
ashe 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 supposed to be on the extreme right of the
enemy. We 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 watching the gradual diminution of the
distance betwixt 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‘num-
ber, 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. hese 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 redoubled, for
if the darkness should increase, there would be great danger
of a collision with one or another of the fleet. This peril,
however, we shared in common with the merchantmen com-
posing the convoy. Our only precaution consisted in doub-
ling our look-outs. ;

sc hetient hour. passed, during which we steered by the
lights of the meti-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 vessels we fancied to be the
frigate which had been hovering toward nightfall in the rear
of the fleet. Our anxiety now increased: We were sur-
rounded, 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 progress, meantime, was continued in ut-
ter 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, how-
ever, 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 that mo-
ment to be passing; ‘‘hist! do you hear that?”

The old fellow stopped, listened a moment, and then shak-
ing his head, said: .

‘e

aie

 

 
 

 

cg

Pa»

 

 

LHE PRIVATEERS CRUISE. 9

“‘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 scarcely spoken before the tall masts of aship, likea
specter rising through the night, lifted themselves up out of
the obscurity in the direction whence the sound had proceod-
ed, and instantaneously 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. At the same time a
voice hailed.

‘‘ Luff 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 British skipper was not without
cause. No sooner had Captain Smyth discovered our prox-

~ imity to the stranger, than he formed the determination of

‘

running her aboard, taking her by a sally of our brave fellows;
and then, after 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, and the hail of her affrighted skipper, the
boarders had been called away and the quarter-master order-
ed to run us bows on tothe quarter of the stranger. — Instead
of luffing, therefore, we kept straight on in: our course, and
as a score of lanterns were instantly shown on board both
ships, sufficient light 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 bowsprit 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 forward, and summoning the boarders to. fol-
low him, had leaped, sword in hand, into the center of the
enemy’s crew, before her skipper had ceased iving orders to
the perplexed seamen, who were running to and fro on her
decks, in the vain hope of preventing any damage resulting to
them from this collision, with, as they thought, a sister vessel.
The consternation of the master may well be conceived when
he found his ship in possession of an enemy. Forsome min-
utes he imagined it to be a jest, for he could not conceive how
any foe could have the audacity to cut him out from the very
heart of the fleet. His rueful countenance when he discover-
ed 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 Aurora. In less than five minutes, however,
this necessary precaution 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 fleet, and gain a
position as speedily as possible to windward. ‘Then the two
ships were parted’ and we stood away as before on the lar
board tack, while the prize braced sharp up, hauled her bow-
lines, and went off 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 merchantman, ‘ by Jupiter, but that was
neatly done—ch! don’t you think so, Hiriton, old boy?”

“Shut. your dead-lights, you young ar growled
the old boatswain, by no means pleased with such a saluta-
tion, “‘ and keep your tongue for cheering against the enemy;
you'll have enough of it'to do before you turn in. Avast
there! I say,” he continued, perceiving that the youngster was
about to interrupt him; “‘ go to your post, or P’ll report you,
you young whelp. None of your blarney, as your thick-
tongued Irish messmate would say—~away with you.”

hen Hinton’s ire was up, the safest plan was to retreat,
for he would brook no retort unless from the captain or lieu-
tenant. Over the young reefers, especially those who were in
disfavor with him, he domineered with a rod of iron. The
_ who had forgotten for a moment, in thé elation of
is first victory, the'awe in which he held the boatswain, was
recalled by these words to a sense of the authority 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-of your ’long-shore pala-
ver to a man who had learned before you were born to hold

his tongue before an enemy as his first duty. Isn’t it so, Mr.
Cavendish?”

 

I was a great favorite of the old fellow, and always made a
point of humoring him, so I nodded an assent to his remark. >
although I was tempted to ask him how long since he had?
forgotten his important duty of silence. I restrained, how-_
ever, my question, and the smile which would fain have pre-!
ceded it, and listened several minutes in return for this com: !
plaisance to a long philippic on the part of the old fellow, ’
against what he chose to call the almost universal presumption
of midshipmen. From this tirade, however, the boatswain ’
condescended to exempt me. How long be would have di- ~
lated upon this favorite subject, I know not; but, at that mo-
ment, a hail came out of the gloom ahead, and every eye was
instantly attracted in the direction from which the voice pro-
ceeded.

“Ship ahoy !” shouted an herculean voice; ‘‘ what craft is”
that?”

The tone of the speaker betrayed a latent suspicion 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 necessarilysheard many things to: awaken his doubts, As”
he spoke, too, the tall figure of a heavy craft loomed out'*
from the obscurity, and while we were yet speculating ‘as to
the answer the captain would make, a dozen lanterns, flashed
through as many open port-holes, revealed that our neighbor’
was a man-of-war.

‘* What ship is that?” thundered the voice: “answer or Til”
fire into you!” a

Our dauntless captain waved his hand for the batteries to
be unmasked, and springing into the mizzen-rigging, while
a neighboring battle-lantern, now disclosed to the night, flung
its light full upon his form, he shouted in an equally stentorian ”
voice:

“This is The Aurora—commissioned by the good common:
wealth of=

‘‘Give it to the canting rebel,” roared the British officer,
breaking in on this reply; ‘for God and St. George—FirE!”

‘“Ay! fire, my brave boys,” thundered our leader; ‘one
and all, for the old thirteen—Firn!”

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 to let them loose upon
the foe. The silent gesture of the captain, when he sprung
into the mizzen-rigging, had been intuitively understood by .
the crew, and the orders of the proper officers were scarcel
waited for, before the ports were opened, the battle-lanterns
unmasked, the guns run out and the whole deck changed, as
if by magic, from a scene of almost Egyptian 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 scarcely
been spoken; when the gunners began to pat their pieces
and*squint knowingly along them, so that, when the com-
mand to fire was given, our whole broadside went off at once,
like a volcano, and with deadly ‘effect. Every gun had been
aceurately aimed, every shot’ was sent crashing into the foe.
Not so the enemy. Although the British captain had cer-
tainly viewed us with suspicion, his crew had apparently ’
thought us deserving of little caution; and the reply of our
leader, and the cries of their own to fire, took them, after’
all, with surprise. Nearly a minute accordingly elapsed be-
fore they delivered their broadside, and then it was done
hurriedly and with little certainty of aim. The 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 poor fellow, however, fell wounded at the’
gun next to mine. Pr

““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 mess-
mate. Jack,” he said, turning to the bleeding man, ‘‘every
one must have a kick sometime ia 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 side with’
out cessation. ‘The enemy, at first, rallied and attempted’
to return our broadsides promptly, but the injuries she had
suffered from our first'discharge 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
guns, Still, however, the enemy did not strike. One or two

 
i
}

ti
.

 
 
    

  

10

   

of her forward guns were occasionally and suddenly dis-
charged at us, but all systematic resistance had ceased in less
than five minutes.

By this time, however, the whole fleet was in uproar.
Lights were flashing in every quarter of the horizon, and as
the darkness had been clearing away since our brush with
the merchantman, our look-out aloft could see through the
faint, misty distance, more than one vessel bearing down to-
ward us. The majority, however, of the fleet, seemed to be
struck with a complete panic, and, like a flock of startled
partridges, were hurrying from us, in every direction. It
soon became apparent that the ships bearing down upon us,
were armed; and before ‘we had been engaged 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 consort.
Still, however, unwilling to leave his antagonist without
compelling her to strike, our leader maintained his position
and poured in a series of rapid broadsides which cut the foe
up Seas Yet she would not strike. On the other hand,
reanimated by the approach of her consorts, hex men rallied
to. her 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 cannonade 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
darkness was still sufficiently intense to render the approach-
ing frigates but dimly visible, except. when a gush of fire
would stream from their ports, lighting up, for a moment,
with a ghastly glare, the smoke-encircled hull, the tall masts,
and the 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 dis-
appear wholly from our sight, and only become again dis-
tinguishable, when they belched forth their sulphurous flame
once more. In the west, the scene was even more magnifi-
cent, for in that quarter, was unexpectedly the nearest of the

three men-of-war, coming up to us close-hauled, yawing

whenever she fired, and then steadily discharging her pieces,
doing more damage than all her other consorts. The gal-
lant 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 can com-
pare to nothing, except the fitful ghastly gleams of light shoot-
ing across the darkness of. that infernal realm which Dante
has 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, rollin,

up. toward us. Our superior officer had, perhaps, notice

the same phenomenon, and knowing what it portended, had,

remained by his antagonist, when otherwise our only chance
of escape would have been in an early flight. Some of the
older tarsnow perceived the approaching tempest, and paused
from the combat. Indeed, not a moment was to be lost. I
had scarcely time to look once. in the direction of the other
frigates, and then turn again to the westward, before our an-

~ tagonist in that quarter was completely shut in by the squall.

The wind had, meanwhile, died away, leaving us rocking un-
quietly in, the swell. A pause of a minute ensued, a pause
of the most breathless suspense. The men had instinctively
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 instant and the
squall would be upon us. All this, however, liad passed, in
less time than is occupied in the relation, for scarcely a min-
ute had elapsed, since I first. saw the approaching squall, be-
fore 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. precede

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 attempt to speak in the
uproar, and waving his hand for the quartermaster to keep
her away, while the men instinctively clewed down the top-
sail-yards, and hauled out the reef-tackles, he awaited the sub-
sidence of the squall. For five minutes we went skimming

 

 

z NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

before the tempest, 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 helpless-
ly onward, inclosed by the mist at the mercy of the winds.
ven if the intensity of the squall would have allowed us to
bring by the wind and reef, prudence would dictate that we
should run before the hurricane, as the only chance of escap-
ing from the clutches of our foes. Yet, surrounded as we
were by the merchantmen of the fleet, we knew not but the
next moment we might run down some luckless craft, and
perhaps, by the collision, sink both them and ourselves.

For nearly half an hour we drove thus before the  hurri-
cane. 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
existence 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 sufferers, not a shriek of despair have
met our ears. There was a fearfulness in that palpable dark-
ness, 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 al-
most anything; but when surrounded by darkness, their im-
aginations conjure up dangers in every strange intonation of
the tempest, in every new outbreak of the surge. They trem-
ble at what they can not behold; in the language of the Scrip-
ture, ‘‘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, roll-
ed to and fro, and finally flew in ragged vapors away, flitting
wildly past the stars that once more twinkled in thesky. As
the prospect brightened, we looked eagerly around to see
what damage the squall had occasioned. The fleet was. scat-
tered hither and thither over the horizon, torn, shattered, dis-
mantled, powerless. Far up in the quarter from whence the
hurricane had burst could be faintiy seen the body of the con-
voy; but on every hand around some of the less fortunate
ships were discoverable. Whether, however, most of the
merchantmen 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 had passed away like a thunder-
bolt from the rest of the fleet, leaving them, at a hopeless. dis-
tance astern.

Owing to the rapidity with which our canvas had been got
in, we suffered no material injury; and, when the gale sub-
sided and the wind came out again from the north, we lost no
time in hauling up and getting the weather-gage of the con-
voy. The ship was put once more in trim—the crew then
turned in, and the watches were left in undisturbed possession
of the decks. AsI stood at my post and watched the bright
stars overhead, shining piacidly upon me, or listened to the cry
of ‘‘ All’s well!” passed from look-out to look-out across the
deck, I could not help contrasting the peace and. silence of
the scene with the fearful uproar of the preceding hour.

When morning dawned, not a vestige of the fleet remained
on the southern sea-board. 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 after-
noon watch, a sail was. discovered on the horizon to wind-
ward, and. when we had approached within a proper distance
we recognized our prize, Our joy at seeing her may well be
imagined, s

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 men in a commensurate degree, ‘The
skipper of the merchantman could never comprehend the just-
ness of his capture. Like the Generals whom Napoleon has
been beating at a later day, he protested that he had been ta-
ken against all the rules of war, eV

After keeping company with us for a few days, the prize
hauled oP for the coast with the intention of going into New-
port. e subsequently learned that she accomplished her
aim, but not until she had run the gantlet of an English fleet.

_ As for ourselves, we stood toward the south, on the look-out

for a new prize.

ath tt.

aa

 

 
a

gy
7

 

 

 

THE PRIVATHER S CRUISE. 1a -

 

CHAPTHR-1V.
THE PIRATE.

Iwas a tropical night. The moon had gone down, but
the stars shone clear and lustrous, with a bril jancy unknown
to more temperate climes, painting a myriad of silvery lines
along the smooth swell of the sleeping ocean. A light breeze
was murmuring across the waters, now and then rippling the
waves in the starlight, and flapping the reef-points occasion-
ally against the sails. A heavy dew was falling, bringing
with it, from an island that lay far up to windward, a thou-
sand spicy odors mingled into one delicious perfume. On
the extreme verge of the horizon hung a misty vail, shrouding
the seaboard in obscurity. Up to windward the same deli-
cate gauze-like vapor was perceptible, and the position 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, and I was standing wrapped up
in my monkey jacket, looking out dreamingly on the ripples
that played under our side in thé starlight, when the bluff
voice of 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.

“Acstill 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
ley Formy part, I ve no notion of such sort of sleeping,
for P’d'stifle to death if I had to be wrapt in every night like
the Egyptian mummies that P’ve seen up the Straits. Give
mea hammock for sleeping comfortable-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.”

“You mean to say that you tried to sleep,” said I, smiling.

“Exactly—I’m no schollard, and none the worst for that, I
think. Them as is born to live by head-work ought to be
sent to ’cadamies and sone and such high places—but them
as have 10 get a living by their hands had better leave. book
Jearnin’ alone, for, take my word for it, it only ends in mak-
ing them rascals; and there’s other ways of killing a dog with-
out choking him to death with bread and butter. Them’s my
sentiments; and so when I’ve got to speak, instead of skulk-
ing about the business in search of big words, like the cook
in the galley, I come out.at once in the plain style my fathers
taught me, The devil fly away with them that can’t speak
without shaking in their shoes lest they make a mistake.
What’s not expected of them can’t be, and big words don’t
make an honest man, much less a good boatswain—the proof
of the pudding is in the rhe and the old fellow paused
and looked in a face for a reply.

He had scarcely done so, when he started, looked around,
and.turned as pale asashes, A low, melancholy strain, seem-
ing to pervade the air, and coming now from above and now
from some other quarter, could be distinctly heard rising sol-
emuly across the night. The phenomenon baffled even my-
self, but. on Hinton it had an extraordinary effect. Sailors
are at all times superstitious and the bluff boatswain possess-
ed a large share of this faculty. These singular sounds,
therefore, appealed to one of the strongest feelings in his bo-
som. _ He looked at me doubtingly, turned around on tip-toe,
and listened attentively a moment in. every direction. His
scrutiny did not satisfy him, but rather increased his wonder,
There could be no doubt that the sounds existed in reality,
forwaltaugh they died away for a moment now and then,
they would almost instantly be heard; again, apparently com-
ing from a different quarter of the horizon. he burden. of
the strain could not indeed be distinguished, but I fancied I
could recognize human voices in it, although Iwas 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
swelling out clear and. fulkas.if sung almost. at our ears, and
then melting away in the distance until; it. died off like the
faintest breathing of the wind-harp, Lwas tempted almost to
attribute the music to angelic Visitants. The old boatswain
seemed to assign the sounds to the same cause, for, drawing
nearer to my side, he ran his eye cautieusly, and as ifin awe,
up to the mast-head; and then looked with a blank and puz-
led gaze, in which, perhaps, some supernatural fear might
be detected, into my. face.

My own. astonishment, however, was but momentary.
Hastily scanning the horizon, I had noticed that the mist in
the direction of the island-had-been, during the fifteen. min-
utes thatd had, been idly looking over the ship’s. side, slowly

 

creeping up toward.us, although in every other direction, ex-
cept down in the extreme distance, the sky was as clear ag
before. At first, moreover, my imagination had yielded 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 m
fancy, I began to analyze the causes of this image
became satisfied that the sounds in reality arose out of the
bank of clouds, to windward, and the illusion had been pro-
duced by the rising and falling of thestrain upon the night.
When, therefore the old boatswain turned to me with his baf-
fled look, I had made up my mind as to the real causes of
which puzzled the veteran seaman.

‘‘ There is a craft up yonder in the fog,” I said, pointing to
windward, “‘and there are women on board, for the voices
we hear are too sweet for those of men.”

T said this with a calm smile, which at once dissipated the
fear of my companion, for, after thinking a moment in si-
lence, the puzzled expression of his face gradually cleared
away, and he replied with a low laugh, which I thought, not-
withstanding, a little forced:

‘You are right—and that’s a reason for book-larnin’, I
never thought of before. Here ‘have I sailed for a matter of
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 because
you’ve had a riggilar eddication. Book-larnin’ ain’t to be
despised arter all,” he continued, shaking his head, ‘‘eyen
for a boatswain, and, by the blessing of God, Pl borrow the
good book of the parson to-morrow and go at it myself; for
when I was a youngster I could spell, I calculate, at the rate
of a ten-knot breeze, Butmayhap,” he continued, his thoughts
suddenly changing, ‘‘that craft up yonder may turn outa
fat prize—we could soon overhaul her if the wind would only
breeze up a little.”

The wind, however, had now fallen to. a dead calm, and
the sails hung idly from the masts, while the ship rolled with
a scarce percentinis motion upon the quiet sea. A current
was setting in, however, to the island, and we were thus
gradually borne nearer to the unseen craft. This soon be-
came evident from the greater distinctness of the sounds,
and at length, I thought I could distinguish a few of the
words sung, which seemed. to be those ofa Spanish air. As
the night advanced the music ceased; but the silence did
not long continue. Suddenly a shriek was heard rising fear-
fully 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. Whatnefarious 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 atleast the appearance of a
breeze, before overhauling the stranger, but now he came to
the determination of ordering out the boats, and learning the
cause of those fearful outeries,

“Some hellish work, I fear,” he said, ‘is going on yon-
der; 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 fiends if they are really at their work.”

The boats ‘were hastily lowered, manned, and shoved off
from the side of the ship. The second lieutenant command-
ed one of the boats, and to me was deputed the charge of
the other. We proceeded rapidly, and as noiselessly as pos-
sible, into the bank of clouds, and soon lost sight of The Ar-
row, although long after her hull and spars had disappeared
in the obscurity, her top light was to be seen likea red, bane-
ful 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 afew 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 had 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
surface of the sea with almost incredible velocity,. Nota
word was spoken; but the oarsmen strained their sinews to
the utmost, while the officers gazed intently. into the gloom
ahead... Each moment seemed anage. Scarcely.adozen more
strokes of the oar had been given, however, when the. -

 
 

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lines of a brig shot up, as if by magic, out of the mist ahead,
and 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 waving his sword aloft;
‘“another pull, and we were up to them.”

The men cheered in reply, and, with a jerk that made the
ash-blades bend like willow wands, we shot up to the sides
of the bre But not unopposed; for almost before the lieu-
tenant had ceased speaking, the dark villains, crowding the
sides of the brig, poured in a rattling fire on us that would
have checked men in the pursuit of a Rok holy object. But
the character of the assassins who had taken the brig had
now become apparent, and every man of our crew, remem-
bering that a onizing shriek, thirsted to revenge the sufferer.
The volley of the pirates was not, however, as deadly as it
might have been had they not been taken partially by sur-
prise, and been, in consequence, without that preparation to
meet us which they otherwise would have shown. 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 advance, suf-
féred far more, for I saw several of the men stagger in their
places—while the lieutenant, springing up like a deer, tum-
bled headlong into 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 instantane-
ously with the fall of my superior.

“Vengeance!” I shouted, ‘‘ vengeance, my lads! follow
me!” and springing into the forechains of the brig I leaped
from thence upon her deck, and found myself, the next mo-
ment, almost unsupported amidst a circle of foes. Butit was
only for a moment, that I was left without aid. I had scarce-
ly exchanged the first parry with a brawny desperado, who
met me at the bulwark, when my gallant fellows came pour-
ing in after me, inflamed to double fury by the loss 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, glar-
ed on us with the fury of wild beasts, and sprung with curses
and yells to repel the boarders; this left me, for the instant,
almost alone with my stalwart opponent, and had my cause
been less righteous, or my skill at my weapon not a proverb,
I should have trembled for my life. Rarely, indeed, have 1
seen a finer-looking or more muscular man than my opponent
on that fatal night. He was a tall, sinewy Spaniard, of the
pure olive complexion, with a dark, glittering, fearful eye,
and a huge black mustache such as I never saw on a man be-
fore or since. His head was bare, with the exception of a
red scarf, which was bound around it in the form of a turban,
the ends of which depended on the left side, as I have some-
times seen them fancifully arranged by the Creole girls of the
islands. _His shirt collar was thrown open, displaying a
broad and brawny chest that would have served as a model
for that of an athlete. His arms were bared to above the el-
bow, and in his hand he held a common cutlass; but a brace
of huge silver-mounted pistols, and a dagger with a splendid-
ly ornamented hilt were thrust into a scarf he wore around
his waist. I forgot to mention that a small cross, the jewels
of which sparkled even in the comparative darkness, depend-
ed by a rich gold chain from his neck. —

Iam 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 combat will often do, before
commencing our strife. I suspected at once that I was op-

osed to the leader of the pirates, and he seemed to feel that
T held the same office among the assailants, which, however,
settled down as his eye took in my comparatively slight pro-
portions, to an expression of sneering scorn. Our pause, al-

_ though sufficiently long for me to observe all this, endured

but for an instant, for the momentary admiration of my foe
faded before that sneering expression, and making a blow at
him with my cutlass, which he dextrously repelled, we were
soon engaged in mortal combat. At first my opponent un-
derrated my powers, but a wound which I gave him in the
arm, seemed to convince him that victory would cost him an

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

effort, and he became more wary. For several moments the
conflict was only a rapid exchange of passes, during which
our blades rattled and flashed incessantly; for neither of us
could obtain the slightest advantage over the other. How
the combatants 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 ring-
ing of our blades, and saw only the glittering eye of my oppo-
nent. Those only who have been engaged in a deadly strife
can understand the feelings of one in sucha 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 min-
utes, when I saw that the pirate was beginning to grow chafed,
for the calm, collected expression of his eye gave place grad-
ually to one of fury, and his lunges were made with incon-
ceivable rapidity, and with a daring amounting to rashness.
It took all my skill to protect myself, and I was forced at
length to give ground. The eye of the pirate glared at his
success like that of a wild beast already sure of its prey, and,
becoming even more venturesome, he pressed 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 time I was insensible of the injury.
I felt the wound no more than if a pinhad pierced me. Every
thought and feeling was now engrossed by the now defense-
less front of my antagonist, for, as he lunged forward with
his blade he lost his Aotenee. and his bosom lay unguarded
before me. Quick as lightaing I shortened my blade and pre-
pared to plunge it into the heart of the pirate. He saw his
error, and made an attempt to grasp a pistol with his letf
hand—to ward off the blow with his sword-arm. But it was
in vain. With one desperate effort I drove my bladeinward
—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 cry was stifled ere it was half 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 look-
ing around, I saw that our brave fellows had genet oun
on the deck, and were driving the pirates backward towar
the stern of the vessel. I now, for the first time, felt the pain
of my wound. But hastily snatching the scarf from the body
of my opponent, I managed to bandage up my arm s0 as
partially to stop the blood, and hurried to head my gallant
tars.

All this had not occupied three minutes, so rapid are the
events of a mortal combat. I had at first thought that we
had been forgotten in the excitement of the strife, but I had
not been wholly unobserved, foras I stooped to snatch the scarf
of the pirate, one of his followers who had seen him fall,
leveled a pistol at me with a curse, but the missile was struck
up by one of my men, me as it was discharged, and the ball
lodged itself harmlessly in the bulwark beside me. In an-
other instant I was ie in the midst of the fight. .The red
scarf which I 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 incommand;
‘cut him down—revenge! revenge!”

I was at that moment surrounded on two sides by the pi-
rates, but springing back while my gallant tars raised their
blades in an arch over me, I escaped the cutlasses of the
foe.

‘Hurl the hell-hounds to perdition,” growled a veteran
foretopman, as he dashed at the piratical lieutenant. — 4

“Stand fast, all—life or death—that for your vengeance,
was the response of the foe as he leveled a pistol at the breast
of the gallant seaman. The ball sped on its errand, and the
topman fell at my feet.

My men were now infuriated beyond all control. They
dashed forward, like a torrent, sweeping every thing before
them. The pirates, headed by their Jeader, made one or two
desperate efforts to maintain their ground, but the impetuosi-
ty of their antagonists was irresistible, and the desperadoes,
at first sullenly giving way, at length were forced into an in-
discriminate retreat. A few of the most daring of the free-

 

Pa eA ERY

 

 

 
 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 13

 

booters, however, refused to yield an inch and were cut
down; while others, after flying a few paces, turned and died
at bay; but with the mass the love of immediate life tri-
umphed over the fear of an 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.

Tnow bethought me of the female whose shriek had first
alarmed us; and, advancing to the cabin, I descended with a
trembling heart, anxious and yet fearing to learn the truth.
Lhave faced death in a hundred forms—in storm, in battle,
and amidst epidemics, but my nerves never trembled before,
or since as they did when I opened the door into the cabin,
What a sight was there! Extended on the floor lay a white-
haired old man, with a huge gash in his long silvery locks
dabbled in his own gore. At his side, in a state of grief ap-
proaching to stupefaction, sat, or rather knelt, a lovely young
creature who might be about seventeen, her long golden
tresses disheveled on her snowy shoulders, and her blue eyes
gazing with a dry, stony look upon the face of her dead par-
ent. oth the daughter and the father were attired with an
elegance which bespoke wealth if not rank, Around her
were several females slaves, filling the cabin..with their la-
mentations, and, at intervals, vainly endeavoring to comfort
their young mistress. Several books and a guitar were scat-
tered about, and the whole apartment, 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 had that lovely
girl imagined, when singing her artless songs, in what misery
another hour would find her.

My entrance, however, partially aroused the desolate girl.
She looked up with alarm in every feature, gazed at me _irre-
solutely a moment, and then frantically clasping the body of
her murdered parent, shrunk from my approach. The negro
women clustered around her, their lamentations stilled by
their fears.

“You are free—thank God!” said I in a voice husky with
emotion, ‘‘ the murderers of your parent are avenged.”

The terrified girl looked at me with an expression which I
shall never forget—an expression in which agony, joy, and
doubt were all mingled into one—and then, pressing the cold
body of that old man close to her bosom, she burst into a
flood of tears; while her slaves, reassured by my words, re-
sumed their noisy grief. I knew that the tears of the ago-
nized daughter would relieve her grief, and respecting the
sacredness of her sorrow, I withdrew to the deck.

Meantime, one of the crew of the brig who had managed
to secrete himself from the pirates, and had thus escaped the
massacre which befell indiscriminately his messmates, had
come forth from his hiding-place, and related the story of
their capture. I will give it, adding other matters in their
place, as I learnt them subsequently from the inmates of the
cabin. The brig was a coaster, and had left Havana a few
days before, having for passengers an English gentleman of
large fortune with his daughter and her personal slaves.
They had been becalmed the-preceding evening under the
lee of the neighboring island, and, as the night was a fine
one, their passengers had remained on deck until a late hour,
the daughter of Mr. Neville amusing herself with singing to
her own guitar, or listening to the ruder, but yet duleet music
of her slaves. At length they had descended to the cabin,
. but, within a few minutes of their retirement, a large crank
boat, pulled by some twenty armed piratical ruffians, had
been seen coming toward the brig. The feeble though des-
perate resistance made by the crew of a half-dozen men, was
soon overcome. Mr. Neville had headed the combat, and,
when the ruffians gained possession of the deck, had retreated
to the cabin, barricading the entrance on the inside. But
the pirates, headed by their leader, although baffled for
awhile, had eventually broke through this defense and poured
into the cabin, but not until several of their number had
been wounded by the desperate parent, who, fighting like a
lion at bay, had even fired through the door on his assailants
after they had shattered it, and before it was finally broken
in. At length the ruffians had gained an entrance; and a
dozen swords were leveled at Mr. Neville, who still endea-
vored 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.

 

| points.

 

When morning dawned we were still abreast of the island.
By this time, however, a light breeze had sprung up, and the
schooner had been brought to under the quarter of The Ar-
row. My superior heard with emotion the death of his lieu-
tenant, and expressed the determination of carrying the pi-
rates into the neighboring port at once, and delivering them
up for trial. He gave up his own cabin temporarily 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 consecrated ground. But I pass over the events
immediately succeeding the capture of the pirates. Suffice
it to say that, after a delay of three or four days in port, we
found it would be impossible to have the pirates brought to
trial by the tardy authorities under a month. As my pres-
ence was deemed necessary on that event, and as my superior
was unwilling to delay his cruise for so long a period, it was
determined then that The Arrow should pursue her voyage,
calling again at the port to take me up in the course of a
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 murdered
Mr. Neville was deposited in the burial-ground of the port
of——, and if strangers shed tears at his funeral, what}nust
have been the emotions of his orphaned daughter! that
kindness could do, however, was done to alleviate her grief;
her friends crowded around her to offer consolation; and
even our hardy tars showed their sympathy for her by more
than one act. It was a fortunate occurrence that she had a
relative in town, and in his family accordingly she took up
her residence, where she could indulge her sorrow on the
bosoms of those who were united to her by natural ties, and
could sympathize with her the more sincerely because they
knew the worth of which she had been deprived. It is one
of the wisest dispensations of Providence that our grief should
be shared and, as it were, soothed by those we love.

The pirates had no sooner been committed to_prison, than
endeavors were made, on the part of the authorities, to ascer-
tain the haunt of the gang; for its depredations had been
carried on during the year to an extent that left no doubt that
the prisoners formed only a detachment to a larger body,
which, dividing into different parties, preyed on the com-
merce of the surrounding islands from as many different
Where the head-quarters of the pirates were held
was, however, unknown; as every attempt to discover them,
or even to capture any of the gang had hitherto proved abor-
tive. The authorities were, therefore, anxious to get one or
more of the prisoners to reveal the retreat of their mess-
mates.on a promise of pardon; but for some time their ef-
forts were unavailing, as each prisoner knew, that if any of
the gang escaped, the life of a traitor would not be worth a
moment’s purchase. At length, however, the temptations
held out to two of the prisoners proved irresistible and they
revealed the secret which the Governor-general was so anxi-
ous to know. The head-quarters of the pirates proved to be
on a small island, some leagues north of the spot where we
captured the prisoners. The place was said to be admirabl
fortified by nature, and there was no doubt, from the pri-
soners’ confession, that art had been called in to render the
retreat impregnable.

The number of the pirates usually left behind to protect
their head-quarters was said to amount to.a considerable
force. Notwithstanding these things, the Governor-general
resolved on sending a secret expedition to carry the place,
and, if possible, make prisoners of the whole nest of free-
booters. As, however, 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 intel-
ligence of the contemplated attack should reach the pirates
to warn them of their danger. ‘While, therefore, the authori-
ties were apparently occupied with the approaching trial to
the exclusion of every thing else, they were, in fact, secretly
making the most active exertions to fit out an expedition for
the purpose of breaking up the haunts of the gang. Several
vessels were purchased, ostensibly for private purposes; and
soldiers drafted into them under the cloud of night. The
vessels then left the harbor, cleared for various ports, with the

 

  
    
 

 

 

 

 

 

14

understanding, however, that they should ail rendezvous on
an appointed day at.a cape a few leagues distant from the re-
treat of the pirates. So adroitly was the affair managed,
that the various vessels composing the expedition left the
port unsuspected—eyen high officers of Government, who
were not admitted to the secret, regarding them merely as
merchantmen departing on their several voyages. Indeed,
had an attack been contemplated on a hostile power, the

reparations could not have been more secret or compre-

ensive, The almost incredible strength of the piratical
force rendered such precautions, however, not only desira-
ble but necessary.

I was among the few admitted to the secret, for the Gover-
nor-general did me the honor to consult me on several impor-
tant particulars respecting the expedition. Tired of the life
of inactivity I was leading, and anxious to see the end of the
adventure, I offered to accompany the enterprise as a volun-
teer—an offer which his excellency gladly accepted.

We set sailina 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 expedi-
tion, and all on board, acquainted with her destination, were
sanguine of success.

The wind proved favorable, and in less than forty-eight
hours we made Cape‘del {stri, where the four vessels compos-
ing the expedition were to rendezvous. . As we approached
the promontory, we discovered one after another of the little
fleet, for as we had been the last toleave port, ourconsorts had
natufally first reached the rendezvous, and in a few minutes
we to in the cénter of the squadron, hoisting asignal 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 collecting in the hollow of three hills,
before they discharged 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. commanded the en-
trance to the lake. Behind, the huts of the piratical settle-
ment stretched along the shore, while the various vessels of
the freebooters lay anchored in different positions in the la-
goon. Such, at least, we were told, was the appearance of
the place when the pirates were not absent on their expedi-
tions,

Our plan of attack was soon arranged. It was determined
to divide our forces into two divisions, so that while one par-
ty should attack the pirates in front, the other should take a
more circuitous path, and penetrating by land to the back of
the settlement, take the enemy in the rear. As night was al-
ready 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 arranged 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 simultaneously. The onset,
however, was to be first made from the water side, and the
ambuseade in the rear of the foe was not to show itself until
the fight had made some proges3 on our side.

The men destined for the land service were accordingly
mustered and set ashore, under the guidance 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 yet young, howeyer, when we entered ‘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 compelled us_to leave our twe larger craft behind |

and our forees were consequently crowded into the remainin
vessels, Neither of these carried a broadside of weight suffi-
cient 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 approach. We could just catch sight of the tall,
rakish masts of a schooner over the low treetops on the right,
when a gun was heard in the direction ofthe fagosi: whether
accidentally fired or not we could nottell. We listened atten-
tively for a repetition of the sound; but it came not. Could
it huve been a carcless discharge from our own friends in the

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

rear of ourfoe, or was it a warning fired by one of the pirates’
sentinels. Five orten minutes elapsed, however, and all was
silent. Meantime our vessels, with ‘a wind free over the taff-
rail, were stealing almost noiselessly along the smooth, sur-
face of the strait; while the men, lying close at their quarters,
fully armed for the combat, breathlessly awaited the moment
of attack, the intenseness of their excitement increasing as
the period approached.

My own emotions | will not attempt to portray.. We were
already within a cable’s length of the end of the strait, and:in
rounding to into thé lagoon, we would, if our approach had
been detected, have to run the gantlet of the broadside of
tho craft guarding this approach to the pirate’s den—a broad-
side, which, if well delivered, would in all probability send
us to the bottom. Our perilwas indeed imminent. And the
uncertainty whether our approach had been detected or not
created a feeling of nervous suspense which increased our sen-
sation of our peril.

‘* A minute more, and we shall shoot by the pirate,” said I
to the captain of our craft.

‘“Ay?? said he, ‘‘ have just passed the word for the men
to lie down under the shelter of the bulwarks, 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 of the wheel-house, so
that as the vessel came around on the starboard tack, no» liv-
ing individual was left standing on the deck, except the
helmsman. The next moment, leaving the sheltcrof the high
baile, we swept into the lagoon, and saw the dark hull of the
opposing vessel moored directly across our way. )

Our suspense, however, was brought to a close. We had
scarcely come abreast of the enemy’s broadside 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 instantaneously her fire was poured out fromstem
to stern in one ‘continuous sheet of flame. Our mainmast
went at once by the board; our hull was fearfully cut up; and
the sbrieks of the wounded of our crew rose up in terrible dis-
cord 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 consort behind opened her
fire at the same moment. Our light armament, however, was
almost wholly inefficient. But happily we had notrelied on it.

“Lay her aboard!” shouted the captain; ‘boarders away!”

At that word, amid the fire of a renewed broadside, 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 bul-
warks. “Attacked thus at their very guns, the pirates rallied
desperately to the defense, and a furious combat ensued. I
remember striking eagerly for 2 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. I have a faint: recollection of
sinking to the deck, but after that all is a void.

CHAPTER VI.
THE CONFLICT AND VICTORY.

Wuen I recovered my senses, after the events narrated 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 ex-
pedition stood around me. As I opened my eyes and glanced
around, scarce conscious as yet of the objects that met my
gaze, one of the medical men bent over me and said that a
safety depended on my quiét. Gradually. L imbibed the full
meaning of his words, and called to mind the events imme-
diately preceding my fall; but, in spite of his charge, I felt
an uncontrollable desire to learn the extent of my injury. In
a low whisper—so low indeed that I was startled at its faint-
ness—I asked if I was seriously wounded, and whether we
had conquered. But he smiled as he replied:

“ Not now, at least not’ in full, for your weakness forbids
it. But the danger is over. The ball has been extracted.
Quiet is all you now require.” * :

But,” said 1 again, ‘“how of our expedition? Have we
conquered?”

 

 

Aegee———-—-—

 

 
 

 

 

THE PRIVATHHR’S CRUISE. 15

 

“We have, but not a word more now. To-morrow you
shall hear 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 wisdom 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, and closing my eyes with a sense of relief, soon’

lost all 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 theshores of the neighboring islands,
and as it wantoned across my forehead, dallying with my
hair and imparting a delicious coolness to the skin, I felt an
invigorating, pleasurable sensation—a sensation of the most
exquisite 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 hearthe events of the combat tliat occurred:
after my fall, would not suffer me to rest, and I gave my at-
tendants no peace until I had learned the whole.

It will be recollected that when I sunk to the deckina
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 main-
tained for some time on board of the enemy, and at first with
varying success; but the daring of our men at last overcame
the desperate resistance of the pirates; and the enemy were
either driven below, cut down, or forced overboard. This
outwork, as it were, having thus been carried, we pushed on
to the settlement itself, for the other vessels moored in the
lagoon were by this time deserted, the pirates having re-
treated to a fortification on the shore, where their whole force
could act together, and where they had intrenched them-
selves, as they vainly imagined, in an impregnable position.
But our brave fellows were not intimidated, Flushed with
success, and burning to revenge those of their comrades who
had already fallen, they cried out to be led against the des-

~ peradoes. Accordingly, under cover of the guns of our little

fleet, the men were landed, and, while a brisk fire was kept
up from the vessels, the assault was made. At first the pi-
rates stood manfully to their posts, pouring in a deadly and
unremitting fire on the assailants. In vain did the officers
lead on their men three several times to the assault, for three
several times were they driven back by the rattling fire of:
thenow 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 anticipa-
tion of a speedy victory, and our men, although still burn-
ing for vengeance, were beginning to lose all hope of victory,
when the long-expected rocket, announcing the arrival of the
other party, shot up from the dense thicket in the rear of
the 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 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 assault, and,
with fixed bayonets, following their leader, they dashed up
to the very embrasures of the fort. Then began a slaughter
so terrific that the oldest veterans assured me they had never
witnessed the like. Through: an impervious vail of smoke,
amid plunging balls and rattling grape-shot, our gallant fel-
lows swept Over the plain, through the ditch, up the embank-
ment, and into the’ very heart of the fortification. At the
mouths of their guns they met the pirates, bearing them
bodily backward at the point of the bayonet: But if the on:
slaught was determined the resistance was desperate: Every
step we advanced was over the: dead bodies of the foemen.
Throwing away their muskets they betook themselves to
their pikes and cutlasses, and though forced to retreat by our
overwhelming numbers, retreating sullenly, like a lion at
bay, they marked their path with the blood of their assail-
ants. Meanwhile the detachment of our troops in the rear,
finding the defenses in that quarter weaker than those in

front, soon carried the intrenchments, and driving before it

as well the immediate defenders of the walls, as the despera-
does who had hurried to reinforce them, it advanced with
loud cheers to meet us in the center of the fortification.
Hemmed in thus on eve 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

without having an opportunity to expostulate.

 

cast themselves in despair on our bayouets, while a few,
managing to escape by cutting their way through a part of
our line, took to the swamps in the rear of the fort, whither
they defied pursuit. In less than an hour from the first as-
sault, 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 by our own forces, and carried
away as trophies. Thus was destroyed one of the most noted
piratical haunts since the days of the Buccaneers.

We learned from the prisoners that the approach of the ex-
pedition had been detected while it was yet an hour’s sail
from the settlement, and that preparations had instantly been
made forour repulse. Had we not been under a misapprehen-
sion as to the strength of these desperadoes, and thus been
induced to take with us more than double the force we should
otherwise have employed, their efforts would no doubt have
been successful, since the almost impregnable nature of their
defenses enabied 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 surprise which they effected
in their quarter of attack, that gave us the victory after all.
As if was, our loss was terrible. We had extirpated 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 con-
sciousness found them, as I have descitbed, watching that
event at my beside.

Our voyage was soon completed, aud we entered the port
of —— amid the salvos of the batteries, and the merry peals of
the various convent bells. The Governorcame off to the fleet,
almost before we had dropped our anchors, and bestowed re-
wards on the spot on those of his troops who had peculiarly
distinguished themselves. He came at once to my cot, and
would have carried me home to the government house, but
Mr. Neville, the uncle of the fair girl whom I had saved from
the desperadoes, having attended his excellency on board, in-
sisted that I should accept the hospitalities of his home.

“Well,” said his excellency, with a meaning smile, “‘ I must
give him up, for, as you say, mine is but a bachelor establish-
ment, and hired nurses, however good, do not equal those
who-are actuated by gratitude. But I must insist that my
own physician shall attend him.”

I was still too weak to take any part in this controversy,
and although I made at first a feeble objection to trespassin,
upon Mr. Neville’s kindness, he only smiled in reply, and f

found myself, in less than an hour, borne to his residence,

CHAPTER VIT,
CONVALESCING AND BEING LOVED.

Waar a relief it is, when suffering with illness, to be trans-
ported from a close, dirty cabin to a large room and tidy ac-
commodations! How soothing toasick man are those thou-
sand little conveniences and delicacies which only the hand
& Woman Can supply, and from which the sufferer on ship-
board is debarred! ‘The well-aired bed-linen; the clean and
tidy apartment; the flowers placed 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 aromatic fragrance; and the orange or tama-
rind, or other delicacy ever 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 —

was done in so unobtrusive a manner that for a long while,

was ignorant to whom I was indebted forthis care. I saw no
one but the nurse, the physician and Mr. and Mrs. Neville.
But I could not help fancying that there were others who
sometimes visited my sick chamber, although as yet I had ne-
ver 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 awaking from my sleep, I fan-
cied I heard a light footstep retreating behind my bed, and
once I distinguished 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,

& . “

 
    
 

 

 

 

 

 

16

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 ‘lapped in
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 memory
to-day as it was in the hour when I Jay 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, yet 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 length I was sufficiently recruited in strength, to be
able to sit up, and I shall ever remember the delicious emo-
tions of the hour when I first took a seat by the casement and
looked out into garden, then fragrant with the dew of the
early morning. I saw the blue sky smiling overhead, I heard
the low plashing of a fountain in front of my window, I in-
haled the delicate perfume wafted to me by the refreshing
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, caroling their morning songs. As I sat thus looking
out, Thad a light footstep on the gravel walk without, 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 ground, . 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 rescuing from the pi-
rates. My apartment, like all those on the island, was on
the ground floor, and when Miss Neville appeared she was
already within a few feet of me. I rose and bowed, and no-

- ticing that she held a bunch of newly gathered flowers in her

hand, I said;

‘It is your taste, then, Miss Neville, which has filled the
vase in my room every morning with its flowers. You can
not know how thankfullam, Ah! would that all knew with
what delight a sick person gazes on flowers.”

She blushed again, and extended the bouquet to me, said,
with something of gayety:

“Tittle thought you would be up. to-day, much less at so
early an hour, or perhaps I might not have gathered your
flowers. Since you can gaze on them from your window,
they will be less attractive to you when severed, like these,
from their parent stem.”

‘‘No—never,” I answered, warmly; ‘‘indeed your unde-
served kindness, and that of your uncle and aunt, I can never

forget.”

She looked at me in jsilence with her large, full eye, a mo-
ment ere she wi and I could see that they grew humid
as she gazed. er 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!” , 709

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 emotions, she turned hastily as she finished. . When I
looked up, she was gone. ;

‘We met daily after this; The ennui of a convalescent made
me look forward to the. time she spent with me, as if it con-
stituted my whole day. Certainly the room seemed less
cheerful after her departure. 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 not only the best authors of our own language, but also
those of France, and her remarks proved that. she thought
while she read. She was a passionate admirer of music, and
herself, a finished performer. For all that was beautiful in
nature she had an eye and soul.._ There was a dash of gayety
in her disposition, although, perhaps, her general character

was sedate, and late events had if any thing increased its,

prominent trait. Her. tendenvy to a gentle meclancholy—if I
may use the phrase—was perceptible in her choice of fayo-
rite songs. More than once, when. listening. to the simple,
ballads she delighted to sing, have I caught the tears rolling

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS:

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 bea 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 been’ the figure
which had seen once or twice flitting out of sight on my
awaking from a fevered sleep.

It is a dangerous thing when two young persons, of differ-
ent sexes, are thrown together in daily intercourse, especially
when one, from his very situation, is forced to depend on the
other for the amusement of hours that would otherwise hang
heavily on him. 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 convalescence, I
was unconscious of this danger, and without taking any
thought of the future, I gave myself wholly up to the enjoy-

_ ment of the bour. For Miss Neville I soon came to entertain

a warm sentiment of regard, yet my feelings for her were of
afar different nature from those I entertained for Annette.

I did 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 J 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 sen-
timent. Had I been more vain, perhaps this thought might
have occurred to me. But I never imagined—blind fool that
I was—that this constant intercourse betwixt: us’ could en-
danger 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 expected arrival of:
The Arrow, and I had ‘spoken enthusiastically of my profes-
sion, and, perhaps, expressed some restlessness at the inactive
life I was leading, 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 seaman enter-
tains for, his ship? One would think that your hearts indulg-
ed 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 ourship, and it has: been to us so lon almost
our only world, that we learn to entertain a sort of passion
for it, which, I confess,seems a miracle to others, but which
to us is perfectly natural. I love the old Arrow with a senti-
ment 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 avoided,
though not intentionally—my early intimacy with Annette,
and her subsequent rescue from thé brig. Secure, as I thought,
of the sympathy of my listener, and carried away by my en-
grossing love for Annette, I dwelt on her story for some time,
totally unconscious of the effect my words were producing on
Ellen. . My infatuation on that morning seems now incredible,
As I became more earnest with my subject, I noticed still less
the growing agitation of my listener, and it'was not until I
was in 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 si-
lence was more oppressive than any thing else, 1 made a des:
perate effort and said:

“Ellen!” :

It was a single word, and-one which I had addressed to her
a hundred times before; but perhaps there was something in
the tone in which I spokeit, that revealed whatawas passing in
my mind, for, as she heard her name, the poor girlburst intoa

 

-

 
 

EAC ata

 

THE PRIVATEER’ S. CRUISE. ay

 

flood of tears, and covering her face with her hands she rush-
ed fromthe room. She felt that her secret was disclosed.
She loved one whose heart was given to another.

That day I saw her no more. Buther 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 impossible for us to requite. Oh! the bitter torture to re-
fiect that by this inability to return another's love, we are in-
flicting on them the sharpest of all disappointments, and per-
haps embittering their life. Point me out a being who is cal-
lous to such a feeling, and I will point you out a wretch who
is unworthy of the name of man. He who can triumphin the
petty vanity of being loved by one for whom he entertains no
return of affection, is worse than a fop ora fool—he is a
scoundrel of the worst stamp. He deserves that his home
should be uncheered by a woman’s smiles, that his dying hour
should be a stranger to her tender care... God knows! to her
we are indebted for all the richest blessings and holiest; emo-
tions of our life. While we remember that we drank in our
life froma mother’s breast, that we owed. that life a thousand
times afterward to a mother’s care—that the love’ of a Sister

qe

i Hu
a

Nt

 

around, and, not beholding her, was on the point of inquir-
ing if she was ill; but, at the instant, the door opened and
one of my old messmates appeared announcing to me that
The Arrow was in the offing, where she awaited me—he hav-
ing been dispatched with a boat to bring me on board. “As I
had been expecting her arrival for several days, there was
little preparation necessary before I was ready to set forth.
My traps had been already dispatched, when I stood in the
hall to take Jeave of the family.- My thoughts, at this mo-
ment, recurred again to Ellen, and I was, a second time, on
the point of asking for her, when she appeared. TI noticed
that she looked pale, and I thought seemed as if she had been
weeping. Her aunt, said:

“YT 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 our-
selves, yet I felt asif every eye was on me, and from the
neryous‘trembling of Ellen’s fingers, I knew that her agitation
was greater than my own. g
“God bless you, dear Miss Neville,” I said, and in spite

Bago SSS, SS

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“ You are free—thank God!’ said I, in a voice husky with emotion, “the murder of your parent is avenged.” —Page 13.

or the deeper affection of a wife has cheered us through many
a dark hour of despair, we can never join that flippant school
which makes light of a woman’s truth, or follow those impious
revilers who would sneer at a woman’s love.. The green sod
grows to-day over many a lovely, fragile being, who might
still have been living but forthe perfidy of our sex. There is
no fiction in the oft-told story of a broken: heart. It is, per-
haps, consumption that finally destroys the victim, but alas!
the barb that infused the poison first into the frame was—a
hopeless love. How many fair faces have paled, how many
hearts have grown cold, how many seraphic forms have pass-
ed like angel visitants from the earth, and few have known
the secret of the blight that so mysteriously and suddenly
withered them away! Alas! there is scarcely a village
churchyard in the land, in which some broken-hearted one
does not sleep all forgotten in her lonely bed. The grave is
a melancholy home; but it has hope for the distressed: there
at least the weary are at rest.

It is years since I have visited the grave of Enimn, and
I never think of her fate without tears coming into my
eyes. .

I said I saw her no more that day. When I descended
to the breakfast table on the following morning, I looked

 

of my efforts, my voice quivered, “and may 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 yet of mournful
sorrow, I never shall forget. I felt that she saw and appre-
ciated my situation, and that even thus her love was made
evident. If I had doubted, her words would have relieved
me.

“Farewell!” she said, in a voice so low that no one heard
it but myself. ‘‘I do not blame you, God be with you!”

The tears gushed to her eyes, and my own heart was full
to overflowing. I hastily waved my hand—for I had alread
taken leave of the rest—sprung into the carriage, rode in si-
lence to the quay, and throwing myself into the stern sheets
of the barge, sat wrapt in my own emotions, and without
speaking a word, until we reached the ship. That night I
early sought my hammock; and there prayed earnestly for
Ellen. ,

.

 
 

 

 

18 NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

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CHAPTER VIII.
_ ELLEN NEVILLE—THE TRAGEDY OF DEATH.

Tr 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 prizes, which we had taken
a short time before-in the Gulf Stream, The first intelli-

ence I heard on landing, was that Miss Neville was said to

e dying of consumption, Need I say that a pang of keen-
est agony shot through my heart? . A something whispered
to me that I was the cause, at least partially, of all this.
With a faltering tongue I inquired the particulars. They
were soon told. I subsequently learned more, and shall con-
ceal nothing.

From the day when I left ——, the health of Ellen had be-

n gradually to droop. At first her friends noticed .onl
that she was less gay than usual, and once or twice they al-
luded jestingly to me as the secret of her logs of spirits. But
when the expression of agony, which at such times would
flit across her face, was noticed, her friends ceased their al-
lusions. . Meanwhile her health began sensibly to be affected.
She ate little. She slept in fitful dozes. o amusement
could drive*away the settled depression which seemed to
brood upon her spirits. Her friends resorted to every thing
to divert her mind, but all wasin vain. With a sad, sweet
smile, she shook her head at their efforts, as if she felt that
they could do nothing to reach her malady,

At length she caught a slight cold.. She was of a northern
constitution, and when this cold was followed by a permanent
cough, her friends trembled lest it foreboded the presence
of that disease which annually sweeps off its thousands of the
beautiful 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 tugging at its life-strings.
The worm was gnawing at the core of the flower and the
next rough blast would sweep it from the stalk. As day by
day passed, she drew nearer to the grave. Her eye grew
sunken, but an unnatural luster gleamed from its depths—
the hectic flush blazed on her cheek—an@ that dry, hacking
cough, which so tortures the consumptive, while it snaps
chord after chord of life, hourly grew worse. Z

‘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 malady. She did not, however, urge her con-
fidence on her charge, but Ellen soon saw that her aunt knew
all. There was a meaning in her studied avoidance of my
name, which could not be mistaken, Ellen’s heart was won

by this delicacy, until, one day, she revealed every thing.
rg

Neville pressed her to her bosom at the close of the con-
was said, Ellen felt that the

fession, and, though nothin
heart of her second mother bled for her.

‘As death drew nearer, Ellen’s thoughts became gradually
freed from this world. But she had still one earthly desire
—she wished to see me before she died. Only to Mrs. Ne-
ville, however, was this desire confided, and even then with-
out any expectation that it could be gratified. When, how-
ever, The Arrow stopped so opportunely in ——, her peti-
tions became so urgent, that Mrs. Neville sent for me, ith
a sad heart I obeyed her summons, A

‘“The dear girl,” she said, when she met me in the ante-
room, ‘would not be denied; and, indeed, I had not the
heart to refuse her. Oh! Mr. Cavendish, you will find her
a chinged. These are fearful trials which God, in his

ood providence, has called us to undergo,” and tears choked
er 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 furniture of the room, save that
it was distinguished by the exquisite neatness and taste which
always characterized Ellen. ‘My eyes rested only on one ob-
ject-—the sufferer, herself.

She was feclining 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 and
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 wavy
curls across her shoulders—now, that beautiful hair was gath-
ered up under the close-fitting cap which she wore.

‘hen

 

her face was bright with the glow of health—alas! now it
was pale and attenuated. But in place of her faded loveli-
ness had come a more glorious beauty; and the glad smile of
old had given way to one of seraphic sweetness. When she
extended her wan hand toward me, and spoke in that un-
rivaled voice which, though feeble, was like the symphony
of an A®olian harp, it seemed, to my excited fancy, as if an
angel from heaven had welcomed me to her side.

“ This is a sad meeting,” she said; for my emotions, at the
sight of her changed aspect, would not permit me to speak
— ‘but why grieve? It is allfor the best. It might seem
unmaidenly to some,” she continued, with a partial hesita-
tion, while, if possible, a brighter glow deepened on her
cheek, ‘‘for me thus to send for you; but I trust we know
each other’s hearts, and this is no time to bow to the formali-
ties of life. I feel that I am dying.”

‘Say not so, dear Ellen,” I gasped, while my frame shook
with agony at the ruin I had brought about, ‘oh! say not
go. You will yet recover. God has many happy years in
store for you.” u

‘‘ No, no,” she said, touchingly, ‘‘ 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 can not 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—lI know you do not despise me—had we met un
der better auspices, the result might have been—” here her
voice choked with emotion— ‘‘ might have been different.”
T could only press her hand. ‘‘Oh! this is bliss,” she mur-
mured, after a pause. ‘‘ But it was not so’to be,” she added,
in a moment, with a saddened tone, which cut me to the
heart. ‘‘I should love to see her of whom you speak—she is
very beautiful is she not? In heaven the angels are all beau-
tiful.” Her mind wandered. ‘‘I have heard their music
for days, and every day it is clearer and lovelier. Hear!”

and with her finger raised, her eye fixed on the air, and a

wrapt smile on her radiant countenance, she remained a mo-
ment silent.

Tears fell from us like rain. But by-and-by her wander-
ing senses returned, and a look of unutterable 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 momenta _
of that sweet saint, so suffering, yet so forgiving. A look of
happiriess once more lighted up her face, and with a sweet
smile, she talked of happiness and heaven. As we thus com-
muned, our hearts were melted. Gradually her voice as-
sumed a different toné, becoming sweeter and more liquid
at-every word, while her eyes shone no longer with that fit-

_ ful 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 reposed 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 soul in its parting moment can embody, and whis-

ered:
pe 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 musi-
cian 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 forlong years. ut often, in the still
watches of the night, I think I hear a celestial voice whisper-
ing in my ear; and, sometimes, in my dreams, I behold a
face looking, as it were, from amid the stars; and that face,
all glorious in light, is as the face of that sainted girl. I can
not believe that the dead return no more.

 
 

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CHAPTER IX.
THE PRIVATEERS.,

J REMAINED but a short time in The Arrow after we sailed
from the port of ——; for happening to fall in with and cap-
ture a rakish little schooner, Captain Smyth resolved to arm
and send her forth to. cruise against the enemy on herown ac-
count. A long Tom was accordingly mounted on a pivot
amidships, a complement of men placed in her, and the com-
mand given to our second lieutenant, with myself for subor-
dinate. Thus equipped, we parted company from our con-
sort, who bore away for the north, while we were to cruise in
the Windward Passage.

For several days we met with no adventure. The weather
was intensely sultry. He who has never witnessed a noon-
tide calm on a tropical sea can have no idea of the stifling heat
of such a situation. The sea is like molten brass; no breath
of air is stirring; the atmosphere is dry and parched in the
mouth; and the heavens hang over all their canopy of lurid
fire, in the center of which burns with intense fierceness the
meéridian 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 astray beam
steals to the deck through an opening in the canvas, the tur-
pentine oozes out and boils in the heat, and the planks be:
come as intoleroble to the tread as if a furnace were beneath
them.

Tt was on one of the hottest days of the season, and about é
fortnight after we parted from The Arrow, that we lay thus
becalmed. "The hour Was high tioon. TI stood panting for
breath by the weather railing, dressed in a thin jacket, and
without a cravat, feverishly looking out across the ocean to
discern, if possible, a mist, or cloud, or other evidence of an
approaching 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 beheld our motion-
less shadow in the water, we would have seemed an enchant-
ed ship, hanging midway betwixt the sea and sky.

Noon passed, and the afternoon drew heavily along, yet
still no breeze arose to gladden our listless spirits. Two bells
struck, and then three, but the same monotony continued.
Wearied out at length Tt was about tarning 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 had been visible. For a moment
the glare of the sun and water prevented me from distinguish-
ing with accuracy whether what I saw was really asail or not,
but at length my doubts were removed by the cry of the look-
out on the forecastle, and before half an hour it became evi-
dent that the vessel to the windward was a square-rigged
craft, but of what size or character it was impossible to de-
termine :

‘They must have had a puff of wind up yonder,” remark-
ed 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 hour.”

“‘We shall probably know nothing more of them until
nightfall, for the wind will scarcely make before sunset, even
ifit does then, He has the weather gage. Until I know

something more of him I would rather change positions.”

‘*¥fo is some fat merchantman,” I replied; ‘‘ we will light-
en 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 sce if any thing could be discovered
to decide our conflicting opinions, But the royals of a ship,
when nothing else of her is visible, give scarcely any clue as
to her character; and accordingly, hour after hotir passed
away, and we were still altogether ignorant respecting the flag
and strength of ourncighbor. 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 lieutenant,

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 19

‘and, by my halidom, the stranger is standing for us. Now,
if he will only keep his present mind 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
foree—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 topsails 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 having, in consequence
of my last’ remark, taken’ a long look-at the strange sail,
“that’s no sleepy merchantman to windward. But we'll
swagger up to him, nevertheless; one doesn’t like to runaway
from the first ship he meets.”

I could not help smiling when I thought of the excuses
with which the lieutenant was endeavoring to justify to him-
self his contemplated attack'on the craft that was not only —
twice out size, but apparently an armed cruiser, for 1 knew
the case would have been the same if this had been the hun-
dredth, instead of the first vessel he had met after assuming a
separate command, as 10 man in the corvette had been more
notorious for the recklessness with which he invited danger,
Perhaps this was the fault of his character. I really believe
he would, if dared to it, have run into Portsmouth itself, and
fired on the British fleet at anchor. Inourformer days, when
we had béen'fellow officers on board The Arrow, we had of-
ten differed on this trait in his character; and perhaps now he
felt called on from’a consciousness of my opinion; to make
some excuse to me for his disregard of prudence inapproach-
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 theapproaching
ship. t
As we drew nearer to the stranger, my worst suspicions be-
camé realized. Her courses loomed’ up large and ominous,
and directly her hammock nettings appeared, and then her
ports opened to our view, six on a side; while, almost simul-
taneously with our discovery of herforce, a roll of bunting shot
up to her gaff, and unrolling, disclosed the’ cross of St. George.
There was’ now no escape. The enemy had the weather
gage, and was almost within closing distance. However pru-
dent 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 wind-
ward by any maneuver; and to have attempted to escape by
going off before the wind would have been madness, 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 hesitation, but each man, as the drum called us to quar-
ters, hurried to his post’ with as much alacrity as if we were
about to engage an inferior force, instead of one so over-
whelmingly our superior.

The moon had by this time risen, and was calmly sailing on,
far up in the blue ether, silvering the deep with her gentle ra-
diance, 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, witha
joyous sound, singularly pleasing after the silence and mon-
otony of the day; and the waves that parted beneath our cut-
water rolled 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 moment of attack. ‘The cutlnsses
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 demonstration on the part
of the foe to open our magazine and commence thecombat 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 captain 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
ordered the veteran to discharge his favorite piece; ‘we'll
soon see who can play at chuckfarthing 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 —

  
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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 on the
ale; while the old veteran, stepping hastily aside, placed his
ae over his eyes, and gazed after the shot, with an expres-
sion of intense curiosity stamped on every feature of his face.
Directly an exulting smile broke over his countenance, as the
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 early thrush that catches
the early worm.”

‘‘Home with the ball there, my hearties,” sung out the
elated veteran; ‘‘she is yawing to let’ drive at us—there it
comes. Give her as good.as she sends.”

The enemy was still, however, at too great a distance to
render her fire dangerous, and after a third shot had been ex-
changed betwixt us—for the stranger appeared to have, like
aaa but a single long gun of any weight—this distant
and uncertain firing ceased, and both crafts drew steadily to-
ward each other, determined to fight the combat as a gallant
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, mean-
while, had been hastily shifted from the starboard to the lar-
board side, so that our whole armament could be brought to
bear at once on the ship. As we drew up toward the enemy
a profound silence reigned on our deck—each man, as he stood
at his gun, watching her with curious interest. We could
see that her decks were filled with defenders, and that marks-
men. had been posted in the tops to pick off our crew. But
no eye quailed, no nerve flinched, as we looked on this for-
midable 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 draw-
ing close on to his bows. The-critical moment had come.
That indefinable feeling which ,even a brave man will feel
when about engaging in a mortal combat, shot through our
frames as we saw that our bowsprit was overlapping that of
the enemy, and 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
ona different tack, rapidly shot 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 opposite his fore-mast. Until now not a word had
been spoken on board either ship; but the moment the com-
mand 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 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, bearing 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 dis-
charge, since our low bulwarks afforded scarcely any pro-
tection against the fire of 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 involuntarily

‘exclaimed, ‘‘ and we have the best of it.”

‘‘Huzza! we'll whip him yet, my hearties,” shouted the
captain of the long Tom; ‘‘give it to him with a will now—
pepper his supper well for him, Old Marblehead, after all,
against the world!”

‘‘Out with her—ay! there she has it,” shouted a grim vet-
eran in my division; ‘‘down with the rascally Britisher.”

‘‘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 be-
hind me on the neck; cut the head off 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. 1. turned away sickened from the sight. The
messmates of the. murdered man saw the horrid sight, but
they said nothing, although the horrible energy with which
they jerked out the gun, told the fierceness of their revenge-
ful 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

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

deadly shot, scattering the fragments 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 withheragain. 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 post. Butif we suffered so severely it was evident that
we had our revenge on the foe. Already his mizzen-mast
had gone by the board, and two of the guns were dismount-
ed. I fancied once or twice that 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 un-
abated 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, in a few minutes longer, the guns of the enemy were
altogether silenced, and directly afterward a voice hailed from
him, saying that he had surrendered. The announcement
was met by a loud cheer from our brave tars, and, as the two
vessels had now fallen a considerable distance apart, the se-
cond lieutenant determined to send a boat on board to take

ossession. Accordingly, with a crew of about a dozen men,

pushed off from the sides of our battered craft.

As we drew out of the smoke of the battle we began to see
the real extent of the damage we had done. The ship of the
enemy lay an almost perfect wreck on the water, her fore-
mast and mizzen-mast having both fallen over her side; while
her hull was pierced ina 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, and 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. las ! I well
knew how terrible had been the slaughter in that particular
spot. I turned my eyes from the melancholy 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 reproof on the angry passions of man.
moment afterward we reached the captured ship.

_AsI stepped on deck I noticed that not one solitary indi-
vidual was to be seen. The whole crew had apparently re-
treated below. At this instant, however, a head appeared
above the hatchway and instantly vanished. I was not lon,
in doubt as to the meaning of this strange conduct, for, al-
most immediately a score of armed men rushed up the hatch-
way, and advancing toward us demanded our surrender. I
saw at once the dishonorable stratagem. Stung to madness
by the perfidy of the enemy, I sprung back a few steps to my
men, and rallying them around me, bid the foe come on.
They rushed instantly upon us, and in a moment we were en-
gaged in as desperate a melee as ever I had seen. ~

“Stand fast, my brave lads,” I cried, ‘‘ give not an inch
to the cowardly and perfidious villains.”

‘‘Cut him down*and sweep them from the decks,” cried
the leader of the men, stung by the taunt of cowardice.

A brawny desperado at the words made a blow at me with
his cutlass, but hastily warding it off I snatched a pistol from
my belt, and fired at my antagonist, who fell dead to the
deck. The next instant the combat became general. Man
to man, and foot to foot, we fought, desperately contesting
every inch of deck, each party being conscious that the strug-
gle was one of life or death. The clashing of cutlasses, the
crack of fire-arms, the oaths, the 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 con.
scious during that terrible melee, and these came to our ears
not in their usual distinctness, but mingled into one fearful
and indescribable uproar. For myself, I scarcely heard the
tumult. My whole being was occupied in defending myself
against a herculean ruffian who ‘seemed to have sin led me
out from my crew, and whom it required all my skill at my
weapon to keep at bay. I saw nothing but the ferocious eye
of my adversary; I heard only the quick rattle of our blades.
Ihave said once before that my proficiency at my weapon

 

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE 21

had passed into a proverb with my messmates, and had I not
been such a master of my art, I should, on the present occa-
sion, have fallen a victim to my antagonist. As it was, I re-
ceived a sharp wound in the arm, and was so hotly pressed
by my vigorous foe that I was forced to give way. But this
temporary triumph proved the destruction of my antago-
nist. Flushed with success, he forgot his weariness, and made
a lunge at me which left him unprotected. Imoved 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 his arm. As I drew out the reeking blade, I became
aware, for the first time, of the wild tumult of sounds around
me. A hasty glance 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 scarcel
an instant had passed since the fall of my antagonist, a toad,
clear huzza, swelling over the din of the conflict, rose at my
side, and, ee quickly around, I 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 the 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 tum-
bling headlong down the hatchways.

We were now masters of the deck. AsJ instantly guessed,
the report of the fire-arms had been heard 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 min-
utes later, and it would have been of no avail.” And then,
as Tran my eye over our comparatively gigantic foe, I could
not restrain the remark: “It is a wonder to me how we con-
quered.”

“Faith, and you may well say that,” laughingly 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 received 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 accordingly ordered one by one on deck, handcuff-
ed, and transported to the schooner. Then I laid a tram,
lighted it, and put off from the prize. Before I reached our
craft—which by this time had been removed to some distance
—the ship blew up.

We rigged a jury-mast, and by its aid reached Charleston,
where we refitted. Our capture gave us no little reputation,
and while we remained in port we were lionized to our hearts’
content.

Eager, however, to continue the career so gloriously begun,
we staid at Charleston no longer than was abbotittely neces-
sary to repair our damages. In less than a fortnight we left
the harbor, and made sail again for the south.

CHAPTER X.
THE LEE-SHORE.

“Aut 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 min-
ute was on deck.

The winter sun had set clear, without a cloud to fleck the
heavens, and when I went below at midnight, leaving the star-
board watch in possession of the deck, the cold, bright stars
were out, twinkling in the frosty sky; while a capful of wind
was sending us merrily along. Six bells had just struck as I
sprung up the gangway, and the night was still clear above,
but, casting my eye hurriedly around,.I saw a bank of mist,
close on the starboard bow, driving rapidly for us, and cover-
ing sea and sky in that quarter, in a shadowy vail. Themen
were already at their posts, and as my watch came tumbling
on deck, each member of it sprung to aid his messmates, so
that in less time than I have taken to describe 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 squall struck us. Nor did we wait long for the
unwelcome visitor. Scarcely had our craft been made snug
before the squall burst. on us in a whirlwind of snow, hail,
rain, and wind, against whose fury it was, for the moment,
impossible to stand. As the gale struck the schooner, she

heeled over until her decks were fearfully inclined, while the

tall masts bent like rushes in the tempest, and the spars strain-
ed and cracked asif they were unequal tothe torture. Fora mo:
ment I thought that all was over, and clutching aropeI made
ready to spring to windward as soon as she should capsize;
but after a second of breathless uncertainty she slightly recoy-
ered herself, and dashed forward as if she had been shot like
an arrow from the bow, her whole forward part buried in
the foam, that boiled around’ her bows, and flew high up the
masts in showers. At this time the wind was shrieking through
the hamper with an intonation like that of a tortured fiend,
while the hail and 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, however, we stripped her to the fight, when she
rose until nearly level, ee gallantly up against the gale.
Meantime, the snow fell thick and fast, covering the decks
with its white carpeting, and dressing the shrouds, booms,
and the weather side of the masts in the garments of the
rave.
ac 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 wind-
ward; why it blows as if it would whiff our little craft away,
like a feather before it. By the gods, but that. bucket full 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 spades to
windward—hark! how the infernal sleet sings in the rigging.”

““ How long was the squall coming up?” said I, as soon as
the roar of the elements suffered me to speak, for it was only
i wee occasional pauses of the gale, that I could hope to be

eard.

““It 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 was as clear as a kitten’s eye, and now you
can’t see a fathom over the starboard bow; while we are driv-
ing along here like a chip in a mill-race, or aland-bird caught
by a nor’-wester. Whistle, whistle—how]l, howl; why it blows
as if the devil himself was working the bellows up to wind-
ward.”

I 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 is ten
thousand nettles had struck me, forced me to turn my back
on the storm more 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. Merri-
vale,” said I, approaching the binnacle, ‘‘ this squall must be
from the northeast. Ay! not a point either way. It’salucky
thing we have a good offing. I wouldn’t be on the coast now
for a year’s pay.” i

“It would be an ugly berth,” said Merrivale, shaking 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. snap
your masts off as I could a pipe-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, thrilling 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 momently away. No one who has
not heard that fearful cry on alee 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
tempest, the hoarse roar of the surf, apparently close under
our lee.

““ Port—a-port—jam her close to the wind,” almost shriek-
ed Merrivale, the energy of his character, in the moment of
peril, divesting him of his usual prolixity.

‘‘ Port it is,” answered the man at the helm, as the sheets
came rattling in and the schooner flew to the windward, shivy-
    
 

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22

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

 

 

ering the opposing wave to atoms, and sending the foam
crackling in showers over the forecastle. As she answered
to her helm, we caught sight, through the shadowy tempest,
of the white breakers boiling under our lee; and an ejacula-
tion of heartfelt gratitude broke involuntarily from my lips,
when, a moment after, I saw the ghastly line of foam glanc-
ing astern. 4
“Thank God!” echoed Merrivale; ‘‘ another instant of de-
lay and we should have struck. But how could we have
made such a mistake in our reckoning? Where are we?”
““Weare off the Jersey coast, somewhere betweeen Egg
Harbor and Barnegat,” I answered, ‘“‘but [thought we were
at least twenty leagues at sea. How gallantly the old craft
staggers to windward—she will yet weather the danger.”
he exertions of the schooner were indeed noble, With
her nose close down to the tempest, and her masts bending be-
fore the fierce hurricane that whistled along her canvas, she
thrashed her way to windward, now doggedly climbing up an
opposing billow, and now thumping through the head sea,
scattering the foam on either side her path, her timbers quiver-
ing and groaning‘in'the desperate encounter. One moment

» the:parted wave whizzed along the side, glittering with spec-

tral brilliancy; and again, the wild spray went hissing by in
the air, drenching the decks with water. Now, ahuge billow
striking on her bows, with the force of a dozen forge-hammers,
staggered her momently in her course; and now, shaking the
water proudly from her, she addressed herself again to her
task and struggled up the wave. Thus battling against sea,
storm ‘and hurricane, she held on her way, like a strong man
fighting through a host.’ .

(Every officer'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 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 within us at the convic-
tion that our peril still continwédas imminent as ever, and that
the struggles of our gallant craft had been in vain. Mean-
while, the hurricane grew wilder and fiercer, and at length
we'saw that we were losing ground. The schooner still bat-
tled with a spirit as undaunted as before against our combined
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, af-
ter a long and anxious gaze on the shore under the lee; ‘‘if
we strike out here, a mile at least from land, we shall all
ee Better, then, jerk the mast out of her in clawing
off! i , ;

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 executing their duty. When
our craft felt the increased sail, she started nervously for-
ward, burying herself so deeply in the head sea, that I feared
she would never ee €, while every rope, shroud, and tim-
ber in her cracked in the strain. At length, however,
she rose from the surge, and rolled heavily to windward,
slowly shaking from ‘her the tons of water that had pressed
on her decks und buried every thing forward’ in the deluge,
With another partial check, and another desperate, but suc-
cessful struggle, we breathed more freely. Yet there still
came to our ears the sullen roar of the breakers on our lee,
warning us that peril was yet imminent.

“Hark?!” suddenly said Merrivale, ‘surely I heard a can-
non, ‘There is'some craft nigh, even more ‘dangerously situ-
ated 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,”
J added, as another flash lit'up, for a moment, the scene be-
fore 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 hé'spoke, the shadowy ship emerged from the tempest
of snow and sleet, not a pistol-shot from our bow. Ne-
ver shall I forget the appearance of that spectral craft. She
had no mast remaining, except the stump of the mizzen.
From her size we knew her to be a sloop-of-war. So far as
we could see through the sbscurity, her decks were crowded
with human beings, some @ parently stupefied, some in the
attitude of supp*-cation, 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 that was con-
sumed in these observations occupied but an instant, for the
darkness of the storm was so dense that the eye could not
penetrate the gloom more than a few fathoms; and a period
scarcely sufficient 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 proxim-
ity to our bows, The danger was perceived by us and by the
erew of the dismantled ship at the same moment, and a
wild cry rose up which drowned even the frenzied tempest.
Escape 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 keep our craft close to the wind,
while, by so doing, a collision appeared inevitable. Yet a
single chance remained,

““Jam her up!” shouted the skipper, catching at the only
hope; “ay! 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 already 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 cameé, her huge hull, as it rose on the wave,
fearfully overtopping our own, and threatening at the first
shock, to crush us. A second and wilder ery of agony burst
from every lip, but, at that instant, she swerved, what seemed
a hait’s breadth, to one side, her bowsprit grazed ours in pass-
ing, and she whirled by like a bird on the wing,

he 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 moment of danger come and gone,
that the whole occurrence seemed to me like a dream; and
when, aftera second’s delay, the ill-fated ship passed away in-
to 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. Buta glance at. the
faces of my messmates dissipated my incredulity, for on ev-
ery countenance was written the history of the few last mo-
ments ofagonizing suspense. A profoundsilence, meanwhile,
reigned on our decks, every eye being strained after the
drowning man-of-war. At length Merrivale spoke:

“Jt is a miracle how we escaped,” and then .in a sadder
tone he added, ‘‘the Lord have mercy onall on board yonder
ship. But hark!” he suddenly exclaimed, and a wild, thrill-
ing cry, as if a hundred voices had united in a shriek of ag-
ony, struggled up from leeward.

Years have passed since then; and the hair that was once
fair has now turned to gray, but that awful sound yet,rings in
my ears, and often since I.ave I started from my sleep, fan-
cying that I saw again th ; spectral ship. flitting by through
the-gloom, or heard tha’ ry of agony drowning, for the. mo-
ment, the fae. tempes... Our blood curdled at the sound,
and we gazed in each other’s faces with horror on every line
of countenance, More than a minute elapsed before a word
was said; and, during the interval, we sought to catch a rep-
etition of the cry, however faint; but only the singing of the

sleet through the hamper, the whistle of the hurricane over- —

head, and the wild roar of the breakers under our lee, came
to our ears. No further token of that ill-fated ship ever
reached us. Not a living soul, of the hundreds who had
crowded her deck 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, uncoffined, and
unknown.”

When. that wintry storm had passed away, the timbers of
a wreck were found strewing the inhospitable shore, with
here and there a dead body clinging to a fragment of a spar,
but neither man nor child survived to tell how agonizingly
they struggled against their fate, to practice the reformation.
which they had promised in their hour of bitter need. And
when the summer sun came forth, kissing the bright waters
of the Atlantic, and children laughingly gathered shells along
the shore, who would have thought that, a few months be-
fore, the heavens had looked down, in that very spot, on the
wild struggles of the dying? But I pass on.

At length that. weary night wore away, and when morning
dawned, we saw the full extent of the danger we had escaped.
All along the coast, at a distance of more than a mile from
the shore, stretched a narrow shoal over which the breakers
were now boiling as in a maelstrom, . It needed no prophet to

foretell our ‘fate, had we struck amid this surf. No boat.

could have lived in that raging sea, and our frail craft would

 

 

 
 

 

 

THE PRIVATEERS CRUISE. , 23

 

have been racked to pieces in less than half an hour. Noth-
ing but the energy of the skipper in crowding the canvas on
the schooner, Renae at the imminent hazard of carrying
away the masts, and thus insuring certain destruction, enabled
us to escape the doom which befell the ill-fated man-of-war.

CHAPTER XI.
THE BRIDE OF POMFRET HALL.

In a few days we made Block Island, and hauled up for
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 a light frosty breeze just rippled, glit-
tered in the sunlight as if the surface of the water had been
strewed with diamonds. The church-bells were merrily ring-
ing in honor of the intelligence, which had just been received,
of the alliance with France. We-came to anchor amid a sal-
vo from the batteries of the fort, and of our consort who was
already at anchor in the inner harbor.

Merry was our meeting with the ward-room and cock-pit of
The Arrow, and many a gay sally bore witness to the hilarity
with which we greeted each other after our mutual adven-
tures. Fora week the town rung with our mirth. At the
end of that time, I managed to obtain a leave of absence, and,
remembering my promise to Mr. St. Clair, started for Pom-
fret Hall. As lay back in the coach, and was whirled over
the road behind two fast hackneys, I indulged in many a re-
collection of the past, in not a few reveries of thefuture. But
most of all, I wondered how Annette would receive me. The
thoughts of our last parting were fresh in my memory, but

months of changes had since elapsed, and might not corre-

sponding 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 few
last interviews? Or might she not, perhaps, as too many be-
fore had done, welcome me with a cold politeness that would
be more dreadful to me than even scorn? The longer I
thought of the subject, the more tncertainty I felt'as to m

reception. At first I had pictured to myself Annette, stand-
ing 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 impossibilities; 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. My feelings then took a sudden revulsion, and I
asked myself, might not she. love another? What had I ever
said to induce her to believe that I loved her? Could she
be expected to give her affections, unasked, to any one, but
especially to a poor adventurer, whose only fortune was
his sword, when the proudest in the land wad consider her
hand as 4 boon?) What madness to think that, surrounded
us she'doubtless had been by suitors, her heart before this
had not been given to another! As I thought this, I fancied
that I was going only to behold the triumph’ of some more

_ fortunate 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 An-
nette had seen my love, and I recalled to mind how trem-
blingly alive she had been, during our last interview,to my at-
tentions. Surely; then, she had not forgotten me. T was do-
ing her injustice, and with this conviction I leaned out of
os carriage window; and ordered the postillion to drive
aster.

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
earriage whirled into the avenue, I saw a procession of the
neighboring 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 bad been
pe ge merrily ever since I had come within hearing of them,
and, with a sudden thrill of agony, I stopped the coach as
the village girls stepped aside to let it pass, and inquired the
meaning of their procession. My voice was so husky that, at
Ae Was indistinguishable; and 1 was forced to repeat the
uestion. 4

“Oh! it’s the meaning of our going to the hall, that the
gentleman would know,” said a female at the head of the pro-
cession; then turning to me she said, with a courtesy: ‘The
young mistress was married this morning, and we are going

 

to the hall to present her-with flowers, This is her school,

sir, and I am 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 go forward, and, concealing my sufferings, appear the gay-
est of the gay,

“‘ Yes!” J 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 drive on. ButIfeltlike
a criminal bound to his execution.

The ten minutes that elapsed before I reached the door of
the Hall seemed to be protracted to an age, and were spent
in an agony of mind no pen can describe. Oh! to be thus
deceived—to part from Annette as we had parted—to think
of her day by day, to dream of her by night—to look for-
ward to our meeting with a thrill of hope, and striveto win
renown that I might shed a luster around my bride—and
then, after all my toils, and hopes, and struggles, to come
back dnd find her wedded—God of heaven! it was too much.
But, notwithstanding my agony, my pride revolted at tle dis-
play of any outward emotion. Iwould not for worlds that
Annette should know the torture her faithlessness had “in-
flicted on my bosom. No! I would smooth my brow, subdue
my tongue, control my every look. I would jest, smile, and
be the gayest of the gay. I would wish Annette and her hus-
band a long and happy life, and no one should suspect. that,
under my assumed composure, I wore a heart rankling with a
wound that no time nor circumstance could cure. I resoly-
ed to see Annette, to play my part to the end, and then, re-
turning to my post, to find an honorable death on the first
deck we should surmount. My reflections, however, were
cut short by the stoppage of the vehicle before the door of the
mansion. A servant hastened to undo the coach-steps, and,
nerving myself for the interview that was’at hand, Ivstep)
out. The man’s face was strange to me, and I 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, politely,
“fis not at the Hall. The carriages have just driven ‘off, an
if they had not taken the back road through the park, would
have met you in the avenue. Mr. St. Clair accompanies the-
bride and groom on a two weeks’ tour.” f

My course was at once taken; and as the criminal feels a
lightening of the heart when reprieved; so 1 experienced a
relief in Seance the trying experiment of mingling with the
bridal party. Hastily reascending the carriage steps; I left.
my name with the servant, and hastily ordering the coach-
man to drive off, left Pomfret Hall, with the resolution never
again to return. At the village I paused a few minutes to in-
dite a letter to Mr. St. Clair, in which I regretted my: inop-
portune arrival, and wished a long life of happiness to him
and to Annette. Then re-entering the coach, 1 threw myself
back on the seat, and, while being whirled away from Pom-
fret Hall, gave myself up to the most bitter reflections. As I
now and then looked out of the window and recognized fa-
miliar objects along the road, I contrasted my present: de-
spondency with the hope that had thrilled my heart when I
passed them a few hours before. Then, every pulse beat
faster with delicious anticipations; now, I scarcely wished for
more than an honorable death. At length my thoughts took
a turn, and I reviewed the past, calling to mind every little
word and act: of Annette, from which I could: draw either
hope or despair. f

““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 as-

ired.’’ But again a revulsion came across my feelings, and

said, ‘‘Oh, Annette, Arinette! could you but know my mis-
ery, you might have paused. But God grant you may find a
heart as true to you as mine.” Thus harassed by contending
emotions, now giving way to my love, and’ now yielding to
indignation and pride, I spent the day, and when at: night,
preparatory to my retiring, I happened to casta look inte
the mirror, I started back at my haggard appearance, But
there are moments of agony which do the work of years.

 

 

 

 
 

 

———

oa

Aeneas:

eats

|

 
 
  

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

CHAPTER XII,
THE LAST SHOT AND ITS DOOM.

My messmates, one and all, were astonished at my speedy
return, but luckily it had been determined to put to.sea at
once, so that if I had remained at Pomfret Hall until the ex-
piration of my leave of absence, I should have lost the cruise.
One or two of my companions, who prided themselves on
their superior intelligence, gave me the credit of having, by
some unknown means, heard of the change in our day of sail-
ing, and so hastened my return to my post. They little
dreamed of the true cause, for to them, as to all others, I wore
the same mask of assumed gayety.

We sailed in company with The, Arrow, but, ere we had
been out a week, were separated from our consort. Our or-
ders were, in such an emergency, to make the best of our way
southward, and rendezvous at Bi. Domingo.

T had turned in one night, after having kept watch on deck
until midnight, when in the midst of a refreshing sleep, I was
suddenly awoke by a hand laid on my shoulder, at the same
time that a voice said:

‘* Hist! Cavendish; don’t-talk in your sleep.’ :

I started to my feet, but, for a moment, my faculties 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. Olair! Pomfret Hall!. why your. wits are wool gather-
ing; 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 mea specter sent to call you from
Paradise.”

Thad indeed been dreaming. I fancied I was far away,
wandering amid the leafy pain of Pomfret Hall, with An-
nette leaning on my arm, and ever and anon gazing up into
my face with looks of.unutterable 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 thousand
times sweeter than all these, came to my ears the low whisper
of my affianced bride. Was'I not happy? And we sat down
on a verdant bank, and, with hér hand clasped in mine, and
her fair head resting on my bosom, we talked of the happi-
ness which was in store for us, and projected a thousand plans
for the future. From visions like this I awoke to the consci-
ousness that Annette was lost to me forever, and. that. even
now the smiles and caresses of which I had dreamed were be-

?

ing bestowed upon another. A pang of keenest agony, a

sharp, sudden pang, as if an icebolt had shot through my
heart, almost deprived me for a moment of utterance, and I
was fain to lean against a timber for support. But this weak-
ness was only momentary, for, rallying every energy, I con-
quered my feelings, though not so soon, but that the doctor
saw my emotion.

“ Are you sick, my dear fellow?” he said, anxiously. ‘‘ No,
well, you do look better, now. But Icame to inform you
that-as rascally a looking,craft as ever you saw is dodging us
to the windward, and the Lord only knows whether we won't
all be prisoners, 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 respect-
ing the strange sail. were not without foundation. . She was.a
sharp, low brig, with masts raking far aft, and a spread of
canvas towering 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 scrutiniz-

‘ing the strange sail through a glass; “and she is treble our

force,” he continued, in a. whisper to.me. ‘‘ 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 posi-
tions might be.”

“J 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. No, Jack Merrivale never wanted courage, however
prudence might have been lacking. But little did I think
that you, Cavendish, would ever show less prudence than my-
self, as you have to-day. You seem a changed man.”

“Tam one,” I exclaimed; ‘‘but that is neither here nor
there. When once yon freebooter gets alongside, Harry Cay-
endish will not be behindhand in doing his duty.”

My 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 demeanor 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, disclosing a black flag, unrelieved
by asingle emblem. But we well knew the meanjng of that
ominous ensign.

“He taunts us with his accursed flag,” said the skipper en-
ergetically; ‘‘by the Lord that liveth, he shall feel that free-
men know how to defend their lives and honor. Call aft the
men, and then to quarters. . We will blow yon scoundrels out
of water, or die on the last plank.”

Never did I listen tomore vehement, more soul-stirring elo-
quence than wlrich rolled, like a tide of fire, from the cap-
tain’s lips when the men had gathered aft. Every eye 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. appeal they answered with a
loud huzza, brandished their cutlasses above their heads and
swearing to stand by him to the last. os

“TJ know it, my brave boys—I remember how you fought
the privateer’s men,” for most of his old erew had re-entered;
“but yonder cut-throats are still more deceitful, and blood-
thirsty.. We have nothing to hope for from them but a short
shrift and the yard-arm. We fight, not for our 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 now. Let us. make these decks slippery with our best
blood rather than surrender, Stand by me, if they board us,
and—my word on it—the,survivors will long talk of this glori-
ous 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. AsIran my eye alon
the decks, and saw the stalwart frames and flashing eyes o
the crew, I felt. assured that the day was destined to be des-
perately. contested; and when I thought of the vast odds
against which we had to contend, and the glorious deeds
which this superiority would make room for, I experienced an
exultation which I can not describe. The time for which, in
the bitterness of my heart, I had prayed, was come; and I re-
solved to dare things this day which; if they ever reached the
ears of Annette, should prove to her that I died the death of
a gallant soldier. The thought. that, perhaps, she might re-
gret_ me when I was gone, was sweeter to me than the song of
many waters. ;

Little time, however, was left for such emotions, 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
gides seemed one continuous blaze, and his tall masts were to
be seen reeling backward from. the shock of his broadside.
Instantaneously the iron tempest came hurtling across us, and
for a space I was. bewildered by the rending of timbers, the
falling of spars, and the agonizing shricks of the wounded.

_ The main-topmast.came rattling to the deck with all its ham-

per at,the very moment that a messmate fell dead beside me.
For a few minutes all was consternation and confusion. So
rapid had been the discharges, and so well aimed had. been
each shot, that, in the twinkling of an eye, we saw ourselves
almost a wreck on the water, and comparatively at the mercy
of our foe. j

“ Olear away this hamper,” shouted the skipper; “stand to
your guns forward there, and:give it to the pirate.”

With 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 light that it did no perceptible dam-
age on the thick-ribbed hull of our antagonist. The ball from
the long eighteen, however, swept the decks of the foe, and
appeared to have carried no little havoc in its course. But.

 

 

 
 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 25

 

the broadside did not check the approach of the rover. His
object was manifestly to run us afoul and board us. Steadily,
therefore, he niaintained his course, swerving scarcely a hair’s
breadth at our discharge, but keeping right on as if scorning
our futile efforts to check his’ progress. We did not, how-
ever, intermit our exertions. Although crippled we were not
disheartened—despairing, we entertained no thought of sub-
mission, but rallying around our guns, we fought 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. Fora
short space we even lost sight of our antagonist, and the gun-
ners paused, uncertain where to fire; but suddenly the lofty
spars 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 bowsprit jam-
ming in our fore-rigging as he approached us head on. Al-
most before 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 ruffians gathered, like a clus-
ter of bees, on the bowsprit of the foe, with cutlasses brand-
ished aloft, preparatory to a descent on our decks.

“*Rally to repel boarders!” thundered the skipper, spring-
“ing forward; “ho! beat back the bloodhounds from your
* decks,” and with the word, he made a blow at a desperado

who, at that moment, sprung 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 4 single breath his
companions stood appalled, and then, with a savage yell,
leaping 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 dyed the deck with his
blood. Step by step our brave lads were steadily forced back-
ward, until at length the whole forecastle was in possession
of the foe, anda solid mass of freebooters was advancing on
‘the starboard side of the open main-hatch, in eager pursuit of
the retreating crew. I had foreseen this result to the conflict,
and instead, therefore, of aiding to repel the boarders, 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. I had” hardly
masked my little battery, and not'three minutes had ‘elapsed
from the first onset of the boarders, when my messmates 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 foremost desperadoes of the assailing col-
-umn were even tow within three feet of the muzzle of my gun,
when I signed to my confederate to jerk off the tarpaulin which
had masked our piece. Quick as lightning I applied the
match, and the whole fiery cataract was belched upon them.
Language can not depict the fearful havoc of that discharge.
The hurricane of fire and shot mowed its way lengthwise,
through the narrow and crowded column, scattering the
aying and the dead beneath its track, as a whirlwind uproots
the forest trees.

‘“Now charge,” I shouted, as if seized with a sudden fren-
zy, springing into the midst of the foe. ‘‘ No quarter to the
‘knaves. Hew them to the brisket,” and following every word

“with a blow, and seconded by our men, who seemed t6 catch
my fury, we made such havoc among those of the pirates whom
the grape had spared, that, astonished, paralyzed, disconcert-
ed, 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

eadlong into the deep never to rise again. Seizing an ax, |
hastily cut our hamper loose from the foe, and with the next
swell the two vessels slowly parted.

““Now to your guns, my men,” shouted the skipper, un-
conscious of a dangerous wound, in the excitement of the
moment; ‘‘ give it to them before they can rally. Fire!”

We 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 discomfited freebooters could
rally to their guns and return our shots.

‘* Ab! he has woke up at last,” said my old friend, the cap-
tain 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?” said I, ashe 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,” he exclaimed, as the cook brought red
hot shot from the galley; ‘‘I thought I’d venture on a little
experiment of my 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 mer-
cy on them varmints’ souls.”

From some strange, unaccountable presentiment, I stepped
mechanically backward and cast an eye at the brig, which
had now floated to some distance. As I did so, a trail of fire
glanced before my sight, 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 in-
stantaneously a gush of flame shot far up into the sky; the
masts of the vessel were lifted perpendicularly upward, and
the whole air was filled with shattered timbers 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 thé 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 torecount. Suf-
fice it to say, of all the rover’s crew, not one survived 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.

worse

CHAPTER XIII. |
THE DOOM OF THE DART,

THE day had been close and sultry, but, as sunset drew on,
a light breeze sprung up, which diffused a delicious coolness
throughout the ship, imparting new vigor to the panting and
almost exhausted men. Invigorated by the welcome wind, 8
group of us gathered on the weather quarter to behold the
sun go down; and those who have never seen such a specta-
cle at sea, can have no idea of the vastness with which it fills
the mind. Slowly the broad disk wheeled down toward the
west, seeming to dilate as it approached the horizon, and, as
its lower edge touched, the. distant seaboard, trailing a long
line of golden light across the undulating surface of the deep.
At this instant the scene was magnificent. Pile on pile of
clouds, assuming every fantastic shape,.and varying from
red to purple, and from purple to gold, lay heaped around
the setting god. For a few moments the billows could be
seen rising and falling against the broad disk of the descend-
ing luminary; while, with a slow and scarcely perceptible
motion, he gradually slid beneath the horizon. Insensibly
the brilliant hues of the clouds died away, changing from gor-
geous crimson, through almost every gradation of color, until
at length a faint apple-green invested the whole western sky,
slowly fading into a deep azure, as it approached the ze-
nith, ‘

“Beautiful!” exclaimed the skipper; ‘‘one might almost
become poetical in gazing on such a scene,” 7

The sun had now been hid for some minutes, and the ap-
ple-green 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 toappear in the op-
posite firmament, one after another twinkling into sight, as if
by magic, until the whole eastern heaven was gemmed with
them. I looked around the horizon. Never before had its
immensity so impressed me. The vast concave, swelling high
above me and gradually rounding away toward the distant
seaboard, seemed almost of. illimitable extent; and when,
over all the mighty space of ocean included within its circuit,
my eye rested on not a solitary sail, I experienced a sensa-
tion of loneliness such as no pen can describe. And when the
breeze again died away, leaving the sails idly flapping to and
fro as the schooner rocked on the swell, my imagination sug-
gested that perhaps it might be our doom, as it had been that
of others, to lie for days, nay, weeks and months, powerless
in the midst of that desert latitude, shut out from the world,
inclosed within the blue walls of that gigantic prison; and I
shuddered, as well I might, at the very idea of sucha fate.

It was now a dead calm. No perceptible agitation could be
discovered on the surface of the deep, except the long, undu-
lating swell which never subsides, and which can be compared
to nothing but the heavy breathing of some gigantic monster

 
 

 

t
rr.
t
!

26 NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

 

when lulled to repose. Now and then, however, a tiny rip-
ple, occasioned by the gambol of some equally tiny inhabitant
of the deep, would twinkle sharp in the starlight; while, close
under the shadow of our hull, a keen eye might detect hun-
dreds of the tiny fire-flies of the ocean, their phosphoric lan-
terns glittering gayly as they shot to and fro. Absorbed in
the contemplation of the spectacle, I suffered more than half
an hour to pass unheeded; and it was not until the sea be-

an to be sensibly agitated, and the wind to freshen, that I
fooked up. ‘The change which had come over the firmament
astonished me, and requires a passing description.

When I had last looked at the heavens, the whole eastern

sky was thick sown with stars, though no moon had as yet
appeared. Along the western seaboard still stretched the
long line of apple-green which the setting sun had painted in
that quarter. The firmament overhead was without a cloud,
jts dark azure surface spangled with stars. Between the ze-
nith and eastern horizon hung the dark cloud which I have
already mentioned, a black opaque mass of vapor apparently
not larger than a capstan head. But every thing now pre-
sented 4 different aspect. The first thing that met. my eye
was the upper portion of the disk of the moon, peeping above
the eastern seaboard, the dark fiery red of its face betraying
the existence of a thin mist. in that direction. Fassinated by
the sight, I remained gazing for more than a minute on the
rising luminary as she emerged gracefully and majestically
from hér watery bed. At length, and apparently with an ac-
celerated motion, she slid suddenly above the line of the hor-
izon, pouring a line of silver light along the crests of the un-
dulating swell, while, instantaneously, as if putting on all
her glory, she emerged from the mist that surrounded her,
and rolled on in pearly brightness, calm and undimmed, the
stars fading before her approach. Oneplanet alone remained
visible—it was the evening star, walking in almost equal
beauty, a little to the right of her sister luminary. Never be-
foré had those fine lines of Milton, in which he pictures her
a8 leading’on the choral hosts of heaven, rose so vividly be-
fore my imagination.

When I turned my gaze westward, how different the spec-
tacle that met my eye! The little cloud which I have de-
scribed had grown to a gigantic size. and now obscured the
whole larboard firmament, extending its dark and jagged front
a third of the way around the horizon, and piling its gloomy
masses high up toward the zenith. Here and there, where a
thinner édge than usual was disclosed to the light, it caught
the rays of the rising luminary which it reflected back, so
that the'cloud seemed lined with silver: The sea, immediate-

Jy under this gloomy bank of vapor, was of the color of ink,
and reminded me of the fabled waters of Acheron. Thewhole
spectacle was calculated to fill the mind with dark and omi-
nous forébodings; and, I confess, my own feelings partook of

‘this uneasy character.

The wind was rapidly freshening; but, instead of setting
in steadily from any quarter, it blew in fitful gusts, chopping
all round the horizon. Yet it brought a delicious coolness
with it which was peculiarly refreshing after the heat of the
day. The sea now began to rise, and as the dark billows
heaved up in the spectral light, they wore an aspect so ghastly
that I almost shuddered to look on them—an aspect, however,
that was partially relieved when the unquiet puffs of air
crisped the edges into silver, or rolled a sheet of crackling
light along their surface. With the freshening of the wind,
the schooner began slowly to move ahead, but, ever and
anon, as the breeze died away, or struck herfrom a new

uarter, she would settle like a log on the water, moaning as

in pain. At such times the dying cadence of the wind,
wailing through the rigging, smote on the ear with strange,
weird power,

“A threatening prospect,” said the skipper, approaching
me, and breaking the profound silence which had reigned for

several minutes: ‘‘ we shall havea tempest before long, and I

fear it will be no child's play.”

‘‘ JT 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 coun-
tenances 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, rolling 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-
ing of classic fables when I ought to be taking in sail. Ho!”
he exclaimed, lifting his voice, asa sharp gust, premonitory

 

of the coming hurricane, whistled 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 overshadowed us with its sepulchral
pall. Asthe momentary puff of air accompanying it died
away, a few large heavy 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 incited to double activity by
these signs of approaching 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 usin all its fury, roaring, hissing, and howling through the
rigging, and drenching us withthe clouds of spray that it
tore from the bosom of the deep and bore onward in its fierce
embraces. Fora few. minutes we could scarcely stand before
the blast.. The schooner groaned, and starting forward 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. Inthe
desperate encounter with the elements, every rope and stick
strained and cracked, almost to breaking. Isat. once this
hurricane died out, and then an awful. stillmess fell:on this
scene, . Not.a yoice spoke, not a footfall was heard, scarcely
a breath broke the appalling silence. ; The schooner rose and
fell ominously 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 rain-drop,fell on my
face, and instantaneously, as if the heavens had opened. be-
fore us, a deluge of rain rushed downward, hissing and seeth-
ing 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 and spray madly before it, produced
a scene of confusion and tumult almost indescribable. For
some minutes I could see nothing in the thick darkness which
surrounded us—could hear nothing but the roar of the hurri-
cane and the splash of the waters. But suddenly a blinding
flash shot from the clouds almost. directly overhead, lighting
up the deck, spars, and guns for an instant, with a supernat-
ural glare, and striking the ocean a. few fathoms distant,
plowed up the waters, which it flung in volumes of spray in
every direction. Before a.clock could tick, the report fol-
lowed, stunning us with its deafening roar, and rattling and
crackling as it echoed fearfully 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 distance,
my eyes still ached with that intense light, and the crackling
still rung in my ears.

‘‘ Hast, 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 another peal
of thunder, even more awful than the preceding one 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 were crush-
ing to its center; it was accompanied rather than preceded by
a flash, such as I had never seen before, blinding me _instan-
taneously with its glare, and making every object swim diz-
zily before the brain. Onthe moment I felt astunning shock,
and was prostrated on the deck, while a strong smell of sul-
phur pervaded the atmosphere. The deluge of rain revived
me, and I looked up in alarm. Good God! the foremast was
in flames! We had been struck with lightning !”

Quick as thought the whole horrors of my situatiou rose
before me. We were on a pathless sea amid a raging storm.
That there was little hope of extinguishing the flames was ey-
ident, 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 part of
the schooner was on fire. There was no time, however, tobe
lost, if we would make any effort 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 exclud-
ing 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 ra-
pidity with which all this occurred was incredible. It, seem-

>

 

 

 

 

 
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THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. ; 27

 

ed 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 fragments of the wreck, flying far away ahead on
the gale. There are periods, however, even of long duration,
which appear to be but momentary, and so it was now. So
wholly had every energy been devoted to the preservation of
the ship, that time had passed almost unnoticed though a
full half hour had elapsed since we had been struck with light-
ning. The storm, however, still raged as furiously as ever;
for though the rain was less violent, the wind blew a hurri-
cane, 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 vio-
lence of the wind, rendered the situation of the schooner
hopeless.

*‘ We can do nothing more, I fear,” at length said the skip-
per, drawing me aside; ‘‘ the fire is on the increase, and even
the elements have turned against us. We must leave the lit-
tle Dart to her fate, unless you can think of something else
to do?” and he looked inquiringly 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:

‘Many 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 wish-
ed 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 become heated almost to redness in the conflagra-
tion, exploded. The sound seemed to recall him to him-
self. e started as if roused from a, reverie, and, noticing
me beside him, recollected my question. Immediately re-
suming his usual energy, he procceded 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 of the men enabled us to complete 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, indeed, 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 preparation had
scarcely been completed when the heat on the deck became
intolerable. The fire had now reached the main-hatch, and,
notwithstanding the violence of the gale, was extending aft
with great rapidity, and had already enveloped 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 faces; nor did we descend into the boats a
minute too soon, This was a feat also by no means easily
accomplished, so great was the agitation of the sca. As I
looked 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, 1 felt that in°all human probability, we
should never again set foot on shore, even if we survived un-
til morning. To my own fate I was comparatively indiffer-
ent, for life had now~lost all charms to me; but when I re-
flected 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 orphan’s 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, an pausing to cast a mournful look at his little
craft, he sprung into the boat and we pushed off from the
quarter. Hor some minutes, 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 mo-
mently threatened to overwhelm us. But though small, our
boats were buoyant, and rode gallantly onward, Every ex-
erlion was made, meanwhile, to increase our distance from
the schooner, for our departure had been hurried by the fear
that the. fire would soon reach the magazine, and our proxi-
mity to the burning ship still. continued to threaten us
with destruction in case of an explosion. The men, con-
scious of the peril, strained every. sinew to effect our object,
and thus battling against wind and wave we struggled on our.
way.

With every fathom we gained, the sight of the burnin;
ship increased in magnificence. The flames had now seiz
the whole after part of the schooner as far back as the com-
panion-way, so that hull, spars, and rigging were a sheet of
fire, which, caught in the fierce embraces of the hurricane,
now whirled around, now streamed 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 to leeward, while ever and anon huge
patches of flame would be torn from the main body of. the
conflagration and blown far. away ahead, Volumes of dark,
pitchy smoke, curling up from the decks of the schooner, of-
ten partially concealed a portion of the flames, but they re-
appeared a moment afterward with even greater vividness,
In some places so intense was the conflagration that the fire
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, looking like the
wing of some gigantic monster of another world; and no
description can adequately picture the spectral aspect of the
gloomy waves that rolled up their ghastly crest beneath this
canopy. :

‘She can not last must longer,” said the doctor, who was
in my boat, ‘‘ the flames will soon reach the magazine.”

“Ay! ay! and look there—”

As I spoke, a vivid, blinding jet of fire streamed high up
into the air, while the mast of the schooner could be seen,
amid the flame, shooting arrow-like to the sky. Instantane-
ously a roar of ten thousand batteries smote the ear; and then
came. the pattering of fragments of the hull and spars as they
fell on the water. Even while these sounds continued, a
darkness that brought to my mind that of the day of doom
enveloped us, though that intense light still swam in our
eyes, producing a thousand fantastic images on. the retina.
No word was spoken, but; each one held his breath in awe,
and then came a long, deep-drawn sigh, that seemed to pro-
ceed. simultaneously oe each one in the boat. Zhe Dart
was no more. We were alone in the boundless deep, alone
with a storm still raging around us, alone without any hope
of rescue, and a thousand miles from Jand. . 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 headin the
proper direction—now losing sight altogether of our consort,
and now hanging on the top of the wave while she lay directly
under us, we passed the moments in a succession of hopes and
fears which no human pen can adequately describe. As the
night advanced our sufferings increased. The men, worn out
with fatigue, were kept at their oars only by the consciousness
that even a moment’s respite might be our destruction. 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. Tt
was only at intervals that we caught sight of our companions
through the gloom, or heard their loud huzzas in answer to
our shouts. And no one, except he who has been ina 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 fath-
omless abyss.

At length a gigantic wave rolled up between us and the

 
 

28 NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

launch, and, when we rose from the trough of the sea, I fan-
cied I heard beneath usa wild, prolonged cry 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 that I might
catch a glimpse of the launch; but my straining eyes scanned
the prospect in vain, for the thick darkness shut out every
thing from my vision, except when the ghastly foam whitened
along the waves beside me. For 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
soon 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.

o 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 moment, on the topmost
hight of a mountain wave, while beneath yawned a black
abyss, along whose sides the foam was rolling in volumes,
while the ghastly crests of each mimic billow and the pitchy
darkness of the depths below were lit up with the awful glare
of the lightning, presenting to the imagination a scene that re-
minded 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, bottom upward, while, in close proximity to it, one or
two human forms were struggling in the sea; but all in vain,
for at every despairing stroke they were borne further and
further from the few frail planks which now were to them
their world. Oh! never will that sight fade from my mem-
ory. A cry of horror broke simultaneously from all who be-
held the scene, and long after it had vanished from our eyes,
we heard the first despairing shriek of our drowning mess-
mates, we saw the last look of agony ere they sunk forever.
To save them was beyond our power. As*we were whirled
down into the abyss, we leaned over the gunwale to catch, if
possible,.a sign of the vicinity of any of the sufferers, but our
efforts were in vain; and, after watching and listening for
mote than an hour, we desisted in despair. As the storm
gradually passed away, and the stars broke out on high, dif-
fusing 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

day.

Mowsing at length dawned. Insensibly the first cold streaks
of day crept along the eastern horizon, gradually diffusing a

ay twilight over the vast solitude of waters around, and fill-
ing the mind with a sensation of utter loneliness, which,
though Ihad 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 consequently lessened. We were, moreover, nearly a
thousand miles from land, with but scanty provisions, and
those damaged. Our boat was frail, and one far stronger had
already been submerged—what, then, would probably—nay!
must 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 al-
ways darkest just before day, and if we don’t meeta sail now,

we must look all the sharper for one to-morrow. Never ae

die while you hear the wind overhead, or see the waves fro
icking around you. Twenty.years have I sailed, in one craft or
another; and often been in as bad scrapes as this—so it’s hard
to make me think we’re going to. Davy Jones’ locker. this
time. Cheer up, cheer up, braves, and I'll give you ‘ Bold
Hawthorne.’” and, with these words he broke out into asong,
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 sunk into a light breeze, and the
mountainous waves were ,rapidly subsiding into’ the long,
measured swell which characterizes the deep when not unusu-
ally 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 momentary sheets of spray glistened in the sun-
beams like frosted silver. Overhead the dark, deep sk

glowed as in a furnace, while around us the sea was as mol-
ten brass, Parched with thirst, yet not daring to exceed the
allowance of water on which we had determined—burning in
the intense heat, without the possibility of obtaining shelter
—worn out in body and depressed in spirits, it required all
my exertions, backed by one or two of the more sanguine of
the crew, to keep the men from utter despair, nor was it un-
til evening again drew on, and the intolerable heat of a tropi-
cal day had given way to the comparative coolness of twi-
light that the general despondency gave way. Then again
the hopes 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 preceding one, because
the stars afforded us some comparative light, sufficing only,
however, to keep us on the watch for a strange sail, without
allowing us to hope for success in our watch, unless by al-
most a miracle! Why should Inarrate the alternation of hope
and fear on the ensuing day, which did not differ from this
one, save in the fiercer heat of noonday, and the more utter
exaustion of the men? What boots it to recount the six long
days and nights, each one like its predecessor, only that
each one grew 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 morn-
ing, “‘ would God it were evening!” ;

And thus week after week passed, until our provisions and
water were exhausted, and yet no relief arrived, but day af-
ter day we floated helplessly on that. boiling 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
Tread 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, and cried out for death; but never
had I thought such things could be credible. Now bow fear-
fully were my doubts removed! I saw the lion-hearted men
weeping like infants—I beheld those whose strength was as
that of a giant, subdued and powerless—I heard men who, in
other circumstances, would have clung tenaciously to life,
now sullenly awaiting their fate, or crying out, in their agony,
for death to put a period to their sufferin g. No pen, how-
ever graphic—no imagination, however vivid, can do justice
to the fearful horrors of our situation. Every morning dawn-
ed 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.

There was one of my crew, a pale, delicate lad, whom I
shall never forget. He was the only son of a widow, and had
entered the navy, though against her will, to earn an honora-
ble 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
up against our privations with a heroism that had astonished
me. When the rest were sad, he was cheerful; and no suf-
fering, however great, could wring from him a complaint.,
But on the twentieth day—after having tasted no food for
forty-eight hours—the mortal tenement Bes too weak for
his nobler soul. He was already dreadfully emaciated, and
for some days I had been surprised at his powers of endur-
ance. But now he could hold out no longer, 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. He seemed conscious of his
approaching end, and dwelt codotahthy, in terms of the most
heart-rending 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 touch-
ing accents to his father’s death—now he recounted the strug-
gles in his mother’s heart when he proposed going to sea—.
and now he dwelt on her grief when she would hear of his
uutimely end, or watch month after month, and year after,
year, in the vain hope of again pressing him to her bosom.
There were etern men there listening, to his plaintive lamen-
tations, who had, perhaps, never shed a tear before, but the

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fountains of whose souls were now loosened, 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 little present for
the boy whom she should never see again.

It was on the evening of the day after his attack, and he
lay with his head on my lap, when the sufferer, after an un-
usually deep sleep of more than an hour, woke up, and faint-
ly opening his eyes lifted them tome. It was a moment be-
fore he could recognize me, but then a grateful smile. stole
over his wan face. I saw at a glance that the fever had pass-
ed away, and I knew enough of the dying hour to know that
this return of reason foreboded a speedy dissolution. He
made an attempt to raise his hand to his face, but weakness
prevented him. Knowing his wishes, Itook my handkerchief
and wiped the dampness from his brow. Again that sweet
smile played on the face of the boy, and it seemed as if
thenceforth the expression of his countenance had in it some-
thing not of earth. The hardy seamen saw it too, and leaned
forward to look at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Cavendish, thank you,” he said, faintly;
‘*T hope I haven’t troubled you—I feel better now—almost
well enough to sit up.”

““No—no, my poor boy,” I said, though my emotions al-
most choked me, ‘‘lie still—I can easily hold you. You have
slept well?”

““Oh! Lhave had such asweet sleep, and it was full of
happy dreams, though before that it seemed as if I was stand-
ing at my father’s dying bed, or saw my mother weeping as
she wept the night [came away. And then,” and a melan-
choly 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 appears, too, as
if I was that one,” he said, with child-like simplicity. Then
for a moment he mused sadly, but suddenly said, ‘‘Do you
think I am dying, sir?”

‘The suddenness of this question startled me, and when I
saw those large clear eyes fixed on me, I was more embarrassed
than ever. 3

‘‘T hope not,” I said, brokenly. He shook his head, and
again that melancholy shadow passed across his face, and he
answered in a tone of grief that brought the tears into other
eyes than mine:

_ “I feelI am. Oh! my poor mother—my poor widowed
mother, who will care for you when I am gone?”

“7 will,” I'said, 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—wi!l you?” he continued,
eagerly.
5 ws T will,” said I, ‘‘rest easy on that point, my dear, noble
oy.
x 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
his ¢yes. For a moment there was silence, the hot tears fall-
ing 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. J 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 murmurs 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 sea-
board. Ah! little did his mother think, as she gazed on the
declining luminary from her humble cottage window, that
that sun beheld the dying hour of her boy, Little did she
think, as she knelt that night in prayer for him, that she was
praying for one whose silent corpse rocked far away on the
fathomless sea. Let us hope that when, in her sleep, she
dreamed of hearing his loved voice once more, his spirit was
hovering over her, whispering comfort in her ear. Thank
God, that we can believe the dead thus revisit the earth, and
oe ministering angels to the sorrowing who are left be-

ind.

Another sun went and came, and even the stoutest of our
hearts began to give way. For twenty three days we had
drifted on the pathless deep, and in all that time not a sail
had appeared—nothing had met our sight but the brazen sky

parte ee

 

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. Suddenly, however, the topman’s look became
animated, and the color went and came into his face, betok-
ening agitation. Following the direction of his eyes, I saw a
small, white speck far off on the horizon. I felt the blood
rushing to the ends of my fingers, while a dizziness came over
my sight. I controlled my emotion, however, with an effort.
At the same instant the doubts of the topman appeared to
give way, and waving his hand around his head, he shouted:

A: sail!—a sail!”

‘« Whereaway ?” eagerly asked a dozen feeble voices, while
others of the crew who were too far gone to speak, turned their
fading eyes in the direction in which all were now looking.

‘* Just under yonder fleecy cloud.”

“*T can’t see it,” said one, ‘‘ surely there is a mistake.”

‘* No—we are in the trough of the sea—wait till we rise—
there!”

“*T see 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 vacantly 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 inti-
mate 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,
her head. pointing nearly toward us. For some time we
watched her in silence, eagerly awaiting the moment when
she should perceive 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
yet the stranger appeared unconscious of our vicinity. :

‘She will pass us!” exclaimed Seaton, the topman; ‘how
can they avoid seeing our sail?”

‘‘ We must try to hail them,” I said, “‘ or we are lost.”

‘‘ Ay—ay! it is our only chance,” said the topman, and a
grim smile passed over his face as he looked on his ema-
ciated shipmates, and added bitterly, ‘‘ though it’s little like-
ly that such skeletons as we can make ourselves heard so far.”

‘“We will try,” said I, and raising 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.

‘CA third time, my lads,” I said; ‘‘ we are lost if they hear
us not—ahoy!”

“Ffilloo!” came floating down toward us, and a topman
turned his face directly toward us, leaning his ear over the
yard to listen.

““A hoy !—a-hoy !—a-h-o-o-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 extended 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 they burst into hysteric
tears, and fell on their knees in thanksgiving, again enacting
the séene of delirious 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 peering over her sides as
she approached, while from top to cross-trees a dozen look-
outs gazed eagerly toward us. 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
our ears. Oh! how different did every thing appear to ug
now from what it had appeared when hope 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 gratitude to God? Let the tears that even our rescuers
shed proclaim. aie Poe
_ ““Water—give us water, for God’s sake,” was the cry or my
men as they struggled to the deck,

 
    

30

i “ Only “a drop now—more you shall have directly,” an-
it swered the surgeon, as he stood between the half-frenzied
| men and the water-can.

| With difficulty the ravenous appetites of the crew were re-

| strained, for to have’ suffered the men to eat in large quanti-

ties after so long’ an ‘abstinence, would have insured their

i; speedy deaths. The sick were hurried to cots, while the

i captain insisted that I should share a:portion of his own ca-

. bin.

It was many days before we were sufficiently recovered to

| mingle with our rescuers; and during our sickness we were
treated with a kindness which was never forgot.

The strange sail was a privateersman, sailing uuder the

American flag. We continued’ with her about two months,

i; ‘when she found it necessary ‘to’ run into port. As we were

| sonire opposite Block Island, it was determined to stand in

- for Newport, where accordingly we landed, after an absence
\ of nearly a year.
i Here I found that we had been given up for lost. » A bucket,

i with the name of the Dart painted on it, having been picked

| up at sed, from which it was concluded that all on board the

i vessel had perished. ‘This belief had now become general,

in ‘consequence of the lapse of time since we had been heard

from. I was greeted, therefore, as one restored from the
dead.

CHAPTER XVI.
HOME, SWEET HOME,

} I was now alone in the world; [had neither ship, nor home;
: and she I had loved was wedded to another. It is strange
iz how misanthropical a man becomes, after disappointment
has soured his disposition, 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 speculated upon my future prospects; when I recalled
to mind how few of the friends Thad begun life with remain-
} ed, an indescribable sadness came over me, and, had it not
been for my manhood, I would have found a relief in tears.
My zest for society was gone. I cared little for the ordinary
business of life. I only longed for a fitting opportunity to re-
; enter the service, and distinguish myself by some gallant
j deed, which I did not care to survive, for even fame had be-
4 come hateful to me, since it reminded me how insufficient it
was to win or retain the love of a woman. In a word, I had
become a misanthrope, and was fast losing all the energy of
my character in sickly regrets over the past.
/ Of the St. Clairs I had not inquired since my return, and
{ their names, from motives of delicacy perhaps, were never
mentioned in my presence. Yet they occupied a large portion
of my thoughts, and often would I start, and my heart flutter.
when, in the streets I fancied, fora moment, that I recognize
the form of Annetie. But a nearer approach made evident
my mistake, and dissipated my embarrassment. Much, how-
ever, as I thought of her, I had never inquired to whom she
had been martied; yet my curiosity on this point continually
gained strength; and when I had been a fortnight in Newport
without hearing any allusion to her, I began to wish that
some one would break the ominous silence which seemed to
hang around her and her family. Still 1 dared not trust my-
self to broach the subject. 1 continued, therefore, ignorant
of their present situation, and ofall that concerned them.
There is, not far from the town, and situated in one of the
most beautiful portions of the island, a favorite 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 enshrined. Here, ona still summer night, we might,
without much stretch of fancy, look for fairies to come forth
and gambol, or listen to the light music of airy spirits hover-
ing above us. The whole place reminds you of an enchanted
bower, and dull must be his heart who does not feel the stir-
rings of the divinity within him as he gazes on the lovely
scenery around, He who can listen here unmoved to the
low gurgle of the brook, or the light rustle of the leaves in
the summer wind, must, be formed of the coarsest clods of
lay, nor boast one spark of our immortal nature.

‘he Glen was my favorite 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 neighboring sea. A rude bench had been

; constructed under some trees, in a partially open glade, at

 

 

 

NEW AND OLD FRIENDS.

the lower extremity of the ravine, and here I usually sat, in-
dulging in those dreamy, half-sick reveries which are char-
acteristic of youth. The stream, which brawled down the
ravine, ia a succession of rapid cascades, here.glided smooth-
ly along on a level bottom, its banks fringed with long grass
interspersed with wild roses, and its bed strewed with peb-
ples, round and silvery, that glittered in the sunbeams,
which, here and there, struggled through the trees, and shim-
mered on the stream. Faint and low 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 lea
floated lazily down into the river, and went on its way, a tiny
bark. The seclusion of my favorite retreat was often enliven-
ed by the appearance of strangers, but as they generally re-
mained only a few moments, I had the spot for most of the
time to myself. Here I dreamed away the long summer: af-
ternoons, often lingering until the moon had risen, to make
the scene even more beautiful, under her silvery light. I had
no pleasure in any other spot. Perhaps it was because I had
once 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. God 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 accus-
tomed 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 every 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 moment, I will
not pretend to analyze. I longed to look up and yet I dared
not. My heart fluttered wildly, and I could feel the blood
rushing th torrents to my face; but, if I had been called on
at that instant to speak, I could not have complied for worlds.
Luckily the tree, under whose shadow I sat, concealed me
from the approaching visitors, and I had thus time to rall
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 tome. Doubtless one of them was An-
nétte’s husband, and, as this thotight flashed across me, I
looked up, impelled by an irresistible impulse. The party
were now within almost twenty yards, coming gayly down the
glen. Foremost in the group walked Isabel, leaning on the
arm 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 gen-
tleman, made up the rest of the company. Where could
Annette’s husband be? was the question that occurred to me
—and who was that distinguished looking gentleman on
whose arm Isabel was so familiarly leaning? But my
thoughts were cut short by a conversation which now began,
and of which, during 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. i

“Ah! Annette,” said Isabel, archly turning around to her
cousin, ‘‘do you know this spot, but especially that rose-
bush yonder?—here, right beyond that old tree—you seem
wonderfully ignorant allat once! I wonder where the donor
of that aforesaid rose-bud is now. I would lay a guinea that
it is yet in your possession, preserved in some favorite book,
pressed out between the leaves. Come, answer frankly, is it
not so, my sweet coz?”

J could hear no reply, if one was made, and immediately
another voice spoke. It was that of Isabel’s companion,
coming to the aid of Annette.

“You are too much given to believe that Annette follows
our example, Isabei—now do you turn penitent, and let me
e father-confessor—how many rose-buds—ay! and for that

matter, even leaves, have you in your collection, presented
to you by 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 betray yourself,” 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. I take credit to myself,” she continued, in the same

Jayful strain, ‘for having worked such a reformation in
him since that event. But this is not what we were talking
of—you wish te divert me from my purpose by this light

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE PRIVATEER’S CRUISE. 31

 

Ccssack warfare—but it won’t do,” she continued, and I fan-
cied she stamped her foot prettily, as she was wont to do at
Clairville Hall, when she was disposed to have her way; ‘‘ no
—no—Annette must be the one to turn penitent, and I will
play father-confessor. Say, now, fair coz, was it not a cer-
tain fancy to sce the same rose-bush, that induced you to in-
sist on coming here?”

During this conversation the parties had remained near
and stationary at some distance from me. Strange suspi-
cions began to flash through my mind, as soon as Isabel
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
present, at Clairville Hall. Nor was this all, I was still
loved, — Oh! the wild, the rapturous feelings of that moment.
I could with difficulty restrain myself from rising and rush-
ing toward them; but motives of delicacy forbade me thus to
reveal that the conversation had been overheard. And yet
should J remain in my present position, and play the listener
sull further? Iknew not what do to, All these considera-
tious flashed through my mind in the space of less than a
minute, during which the party had veen silent, apparently
enjoying Annette’s confusion.

_, Lome, not ready to answer yet?” began Isabel; ‘ well,
if you will not, you shan’t have the rose from that bush, for
which you've come. Let u8 go back,” she said, playfully.

_ The whole party seemed to enter into the jest, and laugli-
ingly retraced their steps. This afforded me the opportuni-
ty for which I longed. Hastily rising from my seat, I glided
unnoticed from tree to tree, until 1 reached “a copse on the
left of the glen, and advancing up the ravine, under cover
of this screen, 1 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 approaching voices. Determining
no longer to be a listener to their conversation, | proceeded
down the glen, and, as I turned the corner, a few paces in
advance, I came full in sight of the approaching group. In
an instant the gay laughing of the party ceased, and I saw
Anneite shrink blushing behind her father. Isabel was the

 

first to speak. Darting forward, with that frankness and
gayety which always characterized her, she grasped my hand,
anid. said:

‘“ You don’t know how happy weallare to see you. Where
could you have come from?—and how could you have made
such a mistake as to congratulate 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, warmly pressing my
hand, ‘‘I can not tell how rejoiced [am to see you. We heard
a rumor that you were lost, and we all wept—tIsabel for the ,
first time in years. It was but a few days since, that we
heard you were at Newport, and, as we were coming hither,
I hastened my journey, determined to search you out. We
are On our way there now, and only stopped here a few min-
utes to relieve ourselves after a long ride.. This day shall be
marked with a white stone. But here I have been keeping
you from speaking to Annette—we old men, you know, are
apt to be garrulous,” :

My eyes, indeed, had been seeking Annette, who, still coy-
ered with blushes, and unable to control her embarrassment,
sought to conceal them by keeping in the background, As
for me I had become’ wonderfully self-possessed. I now ad-
vanced 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 a moment, after which her
eyes again sought the ground in beautiful embarrassment,
My unexpected appearance, combined with her cousin’s late
raillery, covered her face with blushes, and for some time
she could not rally herself sufficient to participate in the con
versation,

What more have I to tell? I was now happy—and for my
misanthropy, it died with the cause that produced it. a
St. Clair said that the wedding need net be delayed, and in} —
less than a month I led Annette to the altar. Years have
flown since then, but [still enjoy unalloyed felicity, and An-
nette seems to my eyes more beautiful than ever. It only re
mains for me to bid my readers—FAREWELL!

 

 
A MAGNIFICENT ROMANCE!

Is the coming issue (ready Friday, November 21st) of

INEGE WT AND OLD EF"RIEN DS,

THE SLAVE SCULPTOR:
The Prophetess of the Secret Chambers.

A TALE OF MEXICO AT THE PERIOD OF THE CONQUEST

 

BY JUDGE WM. JARED HALL.

 

EO aoe

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This splendid romance from Judge Hall's pen is one of the finest of historical novels in the whole range of American fic-
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The list of works, as already issued, comprises the following:

. 1—Seth Jones; or, The Captives of the Frontier. By Edward 8. Ellis.

. 2—Bill Biddon, Trapper; or, Life in the North-west. By Edward 8. Ellis.

. 8—Malaeska; or, The Indian Wife of the White Hunter. By Mrs. Ann 8. Stephens.

. 4—Nat Todd; or, The Fate of the Sioux Captive. By Edward §. Ellis.

. 5—Light-house Lige; or, The Firebrand of the Everglades. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams,
. 6—Alice Wilde, the Raftsman’s Daughter. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.

. T—The Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ Life. By Edward 8. Ellis
- 8—The Backwoods Bride. A Romance of Squatter Life. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.

. 9—The Trail Hunters; or, Monowunn, the Shawnee Spy. By Edward 8, Ellis,

- 10—The Forest Spy. A Tale of the War of 1812. By Edward 8. Ellis,

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(3 For sale by Newsdealers and Booksellers throughout the United States and Canadas, or will be sent to any address,
post-puid, on receipt Of price, ten cents each,

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, N. Y.