It may be a mere old bachelor's whim of mine, but it always has appeared to me that ladies who have had the advantage of mixing much in society, and seeing something of human nature, are not peculiarly partial to that effeminate fairness of complexion that many fashionable gentlemen are so careful to preserve, when they have it by nature, or, when nature has been unkind, to obtain by artificial means; so that Dogberry's axiom, that "to be a well-favored man is the gift of fortune," is not altogether absurd. At any rate, I have seen many a "cherry ripe" lip curled with an expression of irrepressible scorn when the owner of the lip was accosted by one of these very fair, delicate-skinned gentlemen. Girls just let out of a boarding-school generally run mad after these animals; but ladies who have gone through one or two husband-hunting campaigns, are not to be taken in by such painted butterflies: they very wisely conclude that a man who takes such a reverend care of his complexion worships none but himself, and of course he will have no devotion to spare to his wife.

But to return to the gentleman we have left dangling in the starboard mizzen-rigging of the ship Albatross: his countenance was indeed somewhat tanned, but his forehead was as clear and white as ivory; its breadth and openness gave an expression of frankness and candor to his face,—so that, taken altogether, his physiognomy, though not regularly perfect, was exceedingly prepossessing.

The second officer, who was walking the deck, being the officer of the watch, was also a very good-looking young man, with large black whiskers, and was two or three years younger than his messmate in the rigging. His frequent stoppages at the caboose-house, to confer with the cooks, indicated the second mate, who is always, for some reason or other, a sort of "Betty," or "cot-quean," as Shakspeare calls it, continually quiddling about the galley, to the annoyance of the doctor, as the ship's cook is generally called.

About the after-hatchway were seated the gunner and sailmaker, both engaged patching old clothes,—while the old carpenter, like the captain, was reading the bible,—and the armorer was lying flat on his back, and singing. A very pretty boy of fourteen, an apprentice to the captain, was playing, or in sea language "skylarking," with a huge Newfoundland dog. I might as well complete the role d'equipage of the good ship Albatross, by observing that Mr. Jonathan Bolton, M.D., the surgeon of the ship, and Mr. Elnathan Bangs, the supercargo, were neither of them on deck. Perhaps they were engaged with their breakfasts, or their toilets, or their devotions, or their studies, or—in short they were below.

Just forward of the mainmast were what a painter would call the deeper shades of the picture, for there the black cook and his equally sable adjunct, the cook's mate, held their vaporous and dish-washing levee; while forth from the cloudy sanctuary occasionally pealed a burst of obstreporous laughter, that the most unpractised hearer might swear came from the lungs of a negro, without the trouble of invading their premises for further evidence. Upon either of these culinary worthies, to use the somewhat hyperbolical language of sailors, "lampblack would make a white mark."

I cannot avoid taking occasion to remark here, that sailors, like the orientals, are exceedingly addicted to the use of tropes and figures of speech, to similes and metaphors. In fact, if any gentleman was about compiling a treatise on elocution, I would recommend to him to pass a year or two on board one of our men of war, where he would daily hear specimens of eloquence, known and unknown to exclusively terrestrial orators, whether in the halls of Congress, at a public dinner-table, or on a stump. There is the narratio, or anecdote, or sometimes the long yarn; the aprosiopesis, or sudden pause, very powerful when in good hands; the apostrophe, or addressing an absent person as though he was present; the obtestatio and invocatio, two different modes of invoking the gods celestial or infernal; and lastly, the simile, or comparison, in which sailors are a thousand times more fruitful than Homer himself. The steward—who came up with the breakfast-dishes, &c., or "dog-basket," as it is called by them of the forecastle—was a thought lighter skinned than the cooks.

The crew were lounging about the forecastle and weather gangway; some walking fore and aft, with their hands in their jacket pockets, some washing or mending their clothes, and some stretched out in the sun, chatting and laughing in utter disregard and carelessness of what to-morrow might bring forth, and most literally obeying the divine command, to "take no thought of what they should eat, or what they should drink, or wherewithal they should be clothed."

The crew mustered forty-four in number; for forty years since, ships that traded to the coast of California, or any part of His Catholic Majesty's American possessions, or to the North West Coast, calculated upon a brush, either with the guarda-costas or the savages, before their voyage was up, and accordingly went well manned and armed.

A group of ten or a dozen were collected around the fore-hatch, where one of their number sat reading to them the twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth chapters of Acts—two favorite chapters with seamen generally, not that they contain any peculiarly glad tidings of great joy, but because they give a sort of log-book account of almost the only nautical transactions of moment recorded in holy writ.

The reader, like all who are so unfortunate as to be persuaded to read to a company, was perpetually interrupted by some one of his auditors to ask a question, or make a comment. He had, however, this advantage over the ill-starred wight who essays to read to a party of ladies, that he stopped and asked as many questions, and made as many remarks and comments, as any of his auditors.

The reader, after a few verses, describing St. Paul's voyage, came to the eighth verse of the twenty-seventh chapter: "And hardly passing it, came unto a place which is called the Fair Havens," &c.; when old Tom Jones, the boatswain, an old English man-of-war's man, who was lying on his breast across the weather end of the windlass, interrupted:

"Now, as to all them places you've been reading about, I never heard of none on 'em before, except Cyprus, and I've been cruising off there in a frigate; but your Sea lashes and Pump fill ye (Cilicia and Pamphylia), I never heard on in all my born days; and as for Fairhaven, why every body knows that's right acrost the river from New Bedford; though how the d—l they got there so soon I don't see, unless so be Paul worked a marricle, and it's like enough he did, to let the rest on 'em know what kind of a chap they'd got for a shipmate."

"Nevertheless," continued the reader, at the eleventh verse, "the centurion believed the master and owner of the ship more than those things that were spoken by Paul."

"Well, now I don't see no great harm in that," said one of the audience; "Paul was nothing but a kind of Methodist parson, goin' about and preachin' for his vittles and drink, and whatever folks was a mind to give him; so 'taint likely he knowed any more about a ship than any other minister."

"Yes, but you know he was a saint," said the reader, "and could foretell the weather, aye, a year aforehand."

"Could he, faith?" said another, "then I wonder he did not make his eternal fortin making almanacs."

"But what is a centurion?" asked a third.

"Centurion?" said old Jones, "why she's a sixty-four gun ship; I've seen her often enough at Spithead, but I forget now whether she was in the first of June[4] or not."

"Then I 'spose she was convoying the craft that Paul was in," observed another blue-jacket.

This knotty point being satisfactorily cleared up, the reader proceeded: "And when the south wind blew softly, supposing they had obtained their purpose, loosing thence, they sailed close by Crete."

"Now you see," said the boatswain, "just so sure as you have gentle breezes from the south'ard, you'll have a thundering Levanter at the back of 'em."

"Yes, yes," said a tar, "I know that to my sorrow. I was up the Straits last v'y'ge, 'way up to Smyrna and Zante, arter reasons,[5] and we ketch'd one of these thundering Levanters, and was druv 'way to h—ll, away up the Gulf of Venus (Venice); yes, I've been boxing about the Arch of the Billy Goat[6] 'most too long, not to know a little so'thin' about the weather there."

The reader continued: "But not long after, there arose against it a tempestuous wind."

"There," said Jones, "didn't I tell you so? I knowed you'd have a real sneezer in a varse or two."

"Called Euroclydon," continued the reader, finishing the verse.

"What! avast there! overhaul that last word again."

"A tempestuous wind called Euroclydon," repeated the reader.

"Well, you may call it a Rock-me-down, but I say the regular-built name on't is Levanter; but then I s'pose them thunderin' printers puts in any thing they're a mind to."

The reading proceeded without much more interruption, except that the honest tars, who had been up the Mediterranean, were not a little puzzled by the strange names of places, and could not imagine what part of the world the saint had got into.

"About midnight the shipmen deemed that they drew near to some country; and sounded, and found it twenty fathoms; and when they had gone a little further, they sounded again, and found it fifteen fathoms."

"Egad, I should think they was drawin' nigh to some country pretty thunderin' fast too, when they shoalened their water so quick, from twenty to fifteen faddom."

"Then fearing lest they should have fallen upon rocks, they cast four anchors out of the stern, and wished for day."

"Four anchors out of the starn!" shouted the boatswain, "what the h—was that for?"

"Why, you see," said the reader, "they used to bring up by the head or starn in them days—it didn't make a ropeyarn's odds which—they didn't know no better."

"But four anchors out of the starn," continued the man-of-war's man, "why, d—it, the very first sea would onhung the rudder, if she was pitching into it, and knock the whole thunderin' starn-frame into smithareens in a quarter less no time."

"Now you see," said one of the audience, "I've a notion that the craft in them days was built with goose starns, like a Dutch galliot."

"May be," said another, "she had all her anchors stowed aft, to bring her down by the starn."

"But four anchors out of the starn!" murmured the still perplexed Tom Pipes, "I wonder what old Lord Howe, or Admiral Duncan, would have said, if they'd heard a first leftenant give out such orders in a gale of wind."

"Why, there couldn't have been no sailors aboard the hooker, or they would have let go one anchor first, and if that didn't bring her up, then another, and so on; but letting all four anchors go at once right under foot, is what I call a d—d lubberly piece of business, let who will do it, whether St. Paul or St. Devil, and I don't believe they could get insurance on the craft in any insurance office in the United States."

"Yes they could, and I'll tell you why; if a ship goes ashore with an anchor on her bows, the owners can't recover no insurance; but if the skipper will swear that all his anchors were down, and good cables clinched to 'em, he can get his insurance."

"Yes, but there's a thunderin' sight of odds betwixt letting go your anchors in a ship-shape, sea-man-like manner, and bundling 'em all overboard at once in such a lubberly way as that you was readin' about."

The reading proceeded, leaving the law question respecting insurance "open for discussion" at some more appropriate season. Much indignation was expressed by the round-jacketed audience at the thirty-second verse: "Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat, and let her fall off." A vast deal of satire was expended upon "the thunderin' troops," of all classes, periods, and nations, the whole clinched and concluded by a remark from the boatswain:

"Aye, sojers, and pigs, and women, is always in the way, or else always in mischief, aboard a ship, more 'specially in bad weather."

The reading afterwards progressed without much interruption, except at the fortieth verse: "They—hoised up the mainsail to the wind, and made toward shore," and then only to remark, "Aye, she was a schooner, or else a morfredite brig, and they was goin' to beach her; she'd steered better if they'd sot the foresail too."

The eleventh verse of the twenty-eighth chapter gave occasion for question and explanation.

"And after three months we departed in a ship of Alexandria, which had wintered in the isle, whose sign was Castor and Pollux."

"Sign!" said Tom Pipes, "what does that mean?"

"Why, her figure-head, I s'pose," said the questionee.

"Yes, but, d—n my buttons, there's two on 'em."

"Well, I s'pose they fixed 'em as the Dutchmen does De Ruyter and Von Tromp, put one on the knight-heads and t'other on the rudder-head."

"Ay, that indeed."

The reader went on to the fifteenth verse:

"And from thence, when the brethren heard of us, they came to meet us as far as Appii-forum, and The Three Taverns; whom when Paul saw, he thanked God, and took courage."

"Took courage?" said old Tom; "I don't know who the d—l wouldn't take courage with three taverns all in sight at once. I wouldn't wish a better land-fall if I'd been cast away."

"That there Happy afore 'em must have been a jovious kind of a place," observed a seaman, "to judge by the name on't; and then them three taverns so handy—a fellow might shake a foot, and have a comfortable glass of somethin' whenever he took a notion."

All further reading and commentary was suddenly put a stop to, by one of those occurrences that frequently take place at sea, and cause so much bustle and hurry as is very apt to frighten passengers. The good ship Albatross was neither thrown on her beam-ends by a sudden squall, for squalls are not fashionable in the trade-winds, nor did she strike upon a rock, for there was none sufficiently near the surface; but still, for a few minutes every thing seemed to be uppermost, and nothing at hand, like the contents of a lady's travelling trunk.

One of the crew, who had been for some time lying on his breast on the weather cat-head, crooning over some interminable "love-song about murder," suddenly surceased his singing, raised himself up, and cast an eager and hurried glance ahead of the ship, shouted "Fish ho!" at the very top of his lungs, sprang from the cat-head, and ran down the fore-scuttle. In an instant all was commotion and hurry. Captain Williams threw down his bible with most anti-christian and unorthodox carelessness, and hurried to the forecastle, shouting, "A bottle of rum for the first fish;" the premium always offered formerly, though I believe it is getting out of date now, and not only the first fish, but all the fish caught, are seized and confiscated "for the benefit of those whom it may hereafter concern," namely, the "cabin gentry;" the claims of the captors being waived, set aside, and overruled. The two mates soon followed their commander, "armed and equipped," the one with the graves, (a sort of harpoon for taking smaller fish,) and the other with a large reel of fish-line and hooks, baited with salt pork—the commentators on the two last chapters of Acts broke up their conference, leaving St. Paul and the centurion in comfortable quarters at The Three Taverns; their reader carefully stowing away his bible in the bows of the long-boat before he joined the groups of fishermen on and about the bows—the great dog Pomp, so named after the illustrious Roman, Pompey the Great, and not after the allegorical personage to whom Will Shakspeare so earnestly recommends physic, came galloping forward and ascended the heel of the bowsprit, where he stood whining, and yelping, and wagging his tail, exceedingly delighted with the animation and excitement of the scene; and looking up, from time to time, in the faces of those nearest him, with an expression that said, as plain as mere expression can speak, "Why the plague don't you catch some of them?" Even those two privileged idlers, the doctor and supercargo, made shift to get on deck, yawning and stretching themselves.

In the mean time, one of the most active seamen, who was perched upon the jib-boom end, fishing with a bait made of a piece of white duck cut into a "swallow-tail," hauled up a huge albicore, whose struggles had well nigh thrown him overboard; but a dozen pair of eager hands were ready, the fish was safely deposited in a bag, and passed on board, and the bottle of rum was secured to the legal claimant. The sprit-sail yard, bowsprit, and cat-heads were crowded with fishermen, and in half an hour there were nearly seventy fine, large fish flouncing and fluttering their last on the forecastle of the Albatross.

The cooks at the galley, who had quietly prepared the usual Sunday dinner, which, forty years since, was generally the same for cabin or forecastle, namely, flour pudding, called at sea, "duff," and salt beef; the cooks did by no means contemplate this addition to the ship's bill of fare with complacency or delight. They foresaw that there would be fried fish, and broiled fish, and boiled fish, and fish stews, and fish chowders, and fish sea-pies; in short, there would be no end to the cooking of fish, till the fish were all eat up. They were not long kept in suspense on that subject. Mr. Walker, the second officer, approached their smoky temple—

"Doctor, is the beef for the people in the coppers?"

"Yes, sar, I put 'em in at three bell."

"Well, take and out with it, and get your coppers ready to make a chowder for all hands; and you, Peter, come down in the steerage with me, and I'll give you some pepper and onions, and the rest of the combustibles."

"Yes, Massa Walker, I come ereckly. Dam fish! I wish all fish in 'a world dead; den 'spose 'a want fish, let 'em eat cod-fish and tatoe."

With this pious ejaculation, which he took care not to give utterance to till Mr. Walker was out of hearing, he followed that officer down the after hatchway, while his helpmate, grasping his tormentors, proceeded to transfer the half-boiled "salt junk" from the coppers to a tub, and make preparations for a dinner of a more savory and agreeable description.

[Footnote 4: June 1st, 1794, Lord Howe's victory over the French fleet, off Ushant.]

[Footnote 5: Quasi raisins.—Printer's Devil.]

[Footnote 6: The sailor probably meant the Ionian Archipelago; they generally mistake the word as it stands in the text.—P. D.]



CHAPTER XII.

All hands! bring ship to anchor, ahoy!

BOATSWAIN'S MATE.

In the meantime Isabella had suffered her full share of persecution. Shortly after the family had retired from the coast to the vicinity of the city of Tepic, where Don Gaspar had an estate, he had urged her to accept Don Gregorio before their return to St. Blas. The tears and entreaties of the unhappy girl had, however, so far mollified him that he consented to put it off some time longer. A severe fit of the gout, during which Isabella attended him with the most assiduous and unremitting affection, had also operated as a powerful auxiliary to her wishes. Pressing her affectionately to his bosom one day, the old governor declared his unwillingness to part with her; and, "upon this hint she spake," and easily obtained from him a promise not to trouble her with any matrimonial schemes till she had completed her twenty-second year, and even then, if she felt disinclined to the holy state, she should be at liberty to retire to a convent. As she was not yet twenty-one, she regarded this reprieve as equivalent to a full release, and awaited anxiously the return of the dry season. It came at last, and the family returned to St. Blas.

Several American ships, whalemen and others, visited the port for supplies, and for the purpose of a little private speculation, with which the custom-house was not troubled. Dame Juanita's shop, being rather the largest in St. Blas, and possessing, moreover, the additional attraction of her own buxom countenance, and that of a pretty daughter behind the counter, was visited daily by the mates and crews of these ships; and of them she inquired, by direction of Isabella, concerning the officers of the Orion, without success for a long time, till at last the mate of a trader declared that he knew Mr. Morton very well; that when he saw him last he was engaged fitting out a ship bound round Cape Horn; and that she was, in all probability, on the coast at that moment, and would most probably soon visit San Blas.

This intelligence operated like a cordial upon Isabella's spirits; her eyes were constantly directed towards the western horizon; every sail that appeared, caused the utmost trepidation and eager hope; and when the distant sail proved to be some coasting vessel, or the guarda-costa, that was prowling about continually, her disappointment was keen and painful. Her cousins laughed at the perseverance with which she watched the harbor; and, fearful of exciting suspicions, she afterwards only looked out upon the blue expanse of ocean when alone.

At last, one lovely morning, just after the sea-breeze had commenced blowing, a white speck was seen in the horizon, that rapidly increased in size, till in two hours it was plain to all eyes that it was a large ship, and many thought a man of war. Various were the speculations as to her object, and still more so as to her nation; for coming directly before the wind, her colors could not be seen.

As she approached the anchorage, her light sails were taken in and furled, with a despatch very unlike the manoeuvres of a merchantman, and which confirmed the opinion of her being a man-of-war. Presently a flash of red flame and cloud of thick, white smoke issued from her starboard bow, followed by a corresponding one from the other side, and repeated alternately, to the number of twenty-one; but the fourth flash was distinctly visible to those on shore, before the roar of the first gun came booming over the water, awakening the thousand echoes that slumbered in the hills and woods about the city.

The ship, having now reached her intended berth, slowly emerged from her "sulphurous canopy," that the light breeze had kept wrapped around her, like a veil; and, clewing up her topsails, gracefully swept round towards the westward, as if intending to go out to sea again; and, in the evolution, a large, bright-colored, new American ensign floated upon the gentle breeze from her mizen gaff. She remained stationary for an instant, when the anchor was dropped, and the sails furled; and the machine, that but half an hour before,

"Walked the waters like a thing of life,"

now lay upon their bosom a dark, motionless, inanimate mass.



CHAPTER XIII.

As an owl that in a barn Sees a mouse creeping in the corn, Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes, As if he slept, until he spies The little beast within his reach; Then starts and seizes on the wretch.

HUDIBRAS.

The salute of the Albatross was duly returned from the battery, and the entire posse of idlers in the port, or little village at the landing-place, which is rather more than two miles from the town of St. Blas, were collected at the pier to see what manner of men her whale-boat contained, as she pulled swiftly in towards the shore. About half way between the ship and the shore the whale boat was met by that of the harbor-master; the crew of the former tossed their oars out of the water, and held them upright in token of respect, while, at the same time, the officer in the stern-sheets arose and raised his hat. This respectful behavior was by no means lost upon the military dignitary, who listened with great affability to the stranger's account of himself—namely, that he was first officer of the ship Albatross, of Boston, commanded by Captain Israel Williams; that she had put in for supplies of wood, water, and fresh provisions; that she was bound to Canton, and sundry other particulars of minor consequence; Mr. Morton not deeming himself bound in honor or honesty to inform said harbor-master that it was the intention of the captain and officers to smuggle certain cases of silks, cloths, and linen on shore without his, the said harbor-master's, privity or consent.

As soon as the strange ship had anchored, Don Gaspar mounted his horse and galloped through the plaza towards the landing-place, at the imminent risk of his own neck, and compromising the sublunary welfare of a swarm of children that were basking in the hot sand in utter defiance of parental authority and of all passengers, bipedal or quadrupedal. Not long after he had gone, Isabella threw her veil over her head, and tripped, with a palpitating heart, towards Dame Juanita's house, which she entered by a back passage well known to herself, and sat down in the little room behind the shop. In a moment the good dame made her appearance, her face literally shining with pleasure.

"I have seen him, senorita! I have seen him and spoken with him."

"Seen him! seen whom?" gasped Isabella, but blushing rosy red at the same time.

"Ah, senorita, you know whom," said Juanita, "that handsome American that you used to meet here a year ago nearly."

As the young lady sat with her back towards the shop-door, and was besides eagerly drinking in all Juanita's news, she did not perceive that a man had entered the room. A gentle voice that thrilled to her heart pronounced her name; she turned, uttered a shriek, and fell fainting into the arms of Morton.

Excessive joy did, in ancient times and in one or two instances, prove fatal; but I suspect that the world has grown more wicked, or the human heart less susceptible, for I doubt whether there is any body now alive who has ever experienced a sufficient degree of pleasure at once to do more than agitate the nerves for a few minutes.

Isabella soon recovered her senses, partly from the effects of cold water sprinkled upon her face by the tender-hearted Juanita, and perhaps there might be something reviving in a soft kiss that the young seaman could not avoid dropping upon her lips as he supported her in his arms. I have already intimated my incompetency to describe a parting scene between two lovers, for reasons then specified: a tender meeting is liable to the same objections. Such things should always be left to the reader's imagination; for it is ten chances to one if the author's description pleases any body, not even himself.

After the first emotions of meeting had subsided, Isabella informed her lover of her uncle's promise, and that she was free from all persecution with regard to Don Gregorio. Morton, on the other hand, communicated to her all that had passed between his father and himself. "So that you see, dearest Isabella, if you had consented to go home with me as I urged, we might at this moment be comfortably seated at my father's fire-side. In the mean time, Captain Williams knows how I am situated, and will give the most effective assistance to my plans. We shall probably be detained here for two or three weeks, and I shall have daily opportunities of seeing you."

Time flies with lovers, and they had been nearly an hour in conversation, when Juanita put them in mind of its lapse, and urged the danger of Isabella's staying away from her uncle's house any longer. They separated with a thousand promises to meet again.

In a day or two, Captain Williams had made arrangements for disposing of the remnant of his cargo, in a quiet way, to certain merchants who are always and every where to be found, ready and willing to evade the exactions of the custom-house.

One branch of the river empties into the north-eastern, part of the bay, from which the slope up to the plaza on the summit of the hill is gradual. The point formed by this branch and the bay is covered with a thick growth of limes and other trees, through which winds a scrambling sort of path, passable by mules, and but very seldom used. After winding through the trees and bushes, and up a steep hill, that farther to the left, or westward, becomes an abrupt precipice of two hundred feet in height; it emerges in an obscure and narrow street on the eastern side of the town.

The Albatross's launch was sent every night, under the command of one or other of the mates, with a cargo of goods, which were landed near the termination of the above-mentioned winding path, and loaded upon mules that were always ready, concealed among the bushes, to be brought out at an appointed signal from the boat. It would be difficult to select a place better adapted for the peculiar purpose; unguarded and unsuspected, nobody had ever dreamed of any smuggling attempt being made there.

This plan of landing cargo had been carried on with equal secrecy and success for many nights, till nearly all was discharged. In the mean time, information had been conveyed to the commandant, by some person who had accidentally seen the boat one night engaged in discharging her precious freight, and the mules loading on the beach. In consequence of this intelligence, orders had been issued to the officer commanding the troops at San Blas, to march a strong party to the place, and secure all merchandize and persons found there. Part of this behest was executed to the letter; the remainder Jupiter dispersed into thin air.

Mr. Morton, with six hands in the jolly-boat, came on shore at the usual time, bringing all the remainder of the cargo, which was hardly enough to load two mules. Every thing was landed and loaded upon the mules without interruption, excepting a small package containing silk handkerchiefs, when suddenly a low whistle was heard in the bushes.

"What is that?" said Morton, who held the aforesaid package in his hands.

"Santa Maria!" exclaimed the muleteers, springing upon their horses, and putting them and the mules into rapid motion; "vienen los soldados malditos," the d—d soldiers are coming; the signal was repeated, and in an instant soldiers rushed from different parts of the adjacent bushes, and surrounded the whole party. So sudden and complete was the surprise, that the seamen, though standing in the edge of the water, were intercepted and made prisoners. Morton, as soon as he perceived that flight and resistance were equally out of the question, hailed the two men in the boat that was lying a few yards from the shore, and ordered them to make the best of their way to the ship—an order that was acknowledged by the customary "ay, ay, sir," and obeyed by hoisting their lug-sail, which, filled by a fresh land-breeze, soon carried them out of danger. He, with the remaining four men, were made prisoners. Whether the soldiers were not used to acting against cavalry, or thought the prisoners of more consequence than the merchandise, is doubtful; the mules and their drivers got off safe, although several shots were fired at them as soon as their retreat was perceived.

Ascertaining that there was nothing more to be got on the field of battle; for it was indeed one, as one of the sailors, feeling somewhat restive under the tight grasp that the corporal laid upon his collar, had bestowed upon that humble candidate for military honors a slap in the face, that caused him, in the Nantucket dialect, to "blow blood;" the guard took up their line of march through the wood with their five prisoners. On their melancholy route towards the town, the commanding officer of the party, mindful of the politeness and attention with which he had been treated by Mr. Morton, behaved to his prisoners with great kindness, and endeavored to console this officer by representing that nothing had been found that would or could be deemed sufficient to convict them of any attempt to violate the laws of the province; that the escape of the mules was a favorable circumstance, as they had carried off whatever might have otherwise appeared as evidence against them, whether merchandise or men; which last, with the treachery peculiar to Spaniards, and more universally inherent in the mixed breed of the colonies, would compound for their own safety by implicating their employers; that the governor was a gentleman, and a man of kindly feelings, and that he would undoubtedly pass over what had occurred that night without the exercise of any greater severity than perhaps the imposition of a moderate fine; with sundry other and similar topics of consolation, suggested by kindness and sympathy. But Morton's mind was too confused and agitated by the events of the evening, to allow him to make much reply or to pay much attention to the consolations of the officer; he longed to reach the guard-house, where, in the solitude and silence of the prison, he might have time and opportunity to arrange his ideas, and reflect upon his melancholy and apparently hopeless situation, and correspond, if permitted, with his commander, and with one other.

"But no," he thought, after the lovely image of Isabella had presented itself to his mind, "no, she will not dare to visit me, or exert herself in my behalf—and why should she? it would but expose her to suspicion, and me and these poor fellows to greater rigor."

He knew but little of the strength of woman's love—her devotedness, her acuteness, and energy and activity, in contriving and executing plans for the relief or comfort of her loved one in affliction. His four companions in misfortune, with all that philosophical indifference to calamity and danger that characterizes seamen, after expending an incredible number of strange curses and sea jokes upon their captors, stretched themselves upon the stone floor of the "caliboza," or prison, and were soon sound asleep; and Morton himself, fatigued in body and harrassed and bewildered in mind, soon lost all consciousness of his unhappy situation in deep and prolonged slumber.

Having lodged his prisoners in the guard-house and given orders that they should be treated with all kindness, the officer waited upon the governor, and reported the proceedings of the night. His excellency looked rather blank at learning that none of the goods had been secured; but having complimented the officer upon his vigilance and zeal, he retired to rest, feeling all the pride and self-gratulation of a little mind, after having done a very little action. He did indeed feel somewhat anxious as to the effect the intelligence might have upon the ladies of his household, who had been projecting another visit to the American ship, being the fourth that had already taken place; but he finally determined, as the only course left him, to ensconce himself behind the intrenchments of his dignity, and to merge the urbane feelings of the hospitable gentleman in the awful gravity of the dog in office. Besides, he hoped that his vigilance and severity on the present occasion would be a sweet savor in the nostrils of his august monarch, and that promotion would follow as an affair of course; and he dropped asleep, fancying himself Lieutenant-General Don Gaspar de Luna, Knight of the most noble order of St. Jago de Compostella, and Governor-General of the island of Cuba or St. Domingo.



CHAPTER XIV

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers.

MERCHANT OF VENICE.

The old Don, on rising the next morning, found all his womankind "overwhelmed with grief" in consequence of the news of the capture and imprisonment of the American seamen, and prepared to assail him with prayers, petitions, and tears, as soon as he made his appearance. In vain he tried to assume the governor, and to look and act dignified; he had not, either in appearance or manner, or even language, so "much of the Roman" in him, as a certain other potentate who shall be nameless; the persevering ladies followed him, and gave him no rest; and perhaps, by their pertinacity, drove him to declare, in his vexation, that it was his fixed and settled resolve to inflict upon his prisoners the extremity of the law's indignation. In fact, the tribulation caused in the governor's family by the unhappy events of the past night, had reached to an extravagant and general height; for even the wife of his bosom remonstrated in no very gentle terms against her lord's severity; so that his poor excellency found the gubernatorial chair as uncomfortable a seat as though its cushion had been stuffed with pins. He made good his retreat as quick as possible to his usual place of official business, or bureau d'office, but there new trials awaited him; for the very first person he saw there, and evidently waiting for him, was Captain Williams.

Isabella, in the mean time, had not yet risen; her sleeping thoughts had been too delightfully occupied with visions of happiness, and her waking reveries had so engaged her with day-dreams of prospective felicity, that she was not conscious of the lapse of time. She had just commenced dressing, with the assistance of a favorite servant, a native Mexican girl, when her weeping cousins rushed into the chamber in an agony of grief. With voices choked and interrupted by sobs and tears, it was some minutes before they could make their poor cousin comprehend the melancholy truth, with the gratuitous addition that the prisoners were to be shot the next morning in the plaza, and directly in front of the house. Having communicated all they knew, and all they had invented, they retired to spread the intelligence, to collect more, and to remove the furniture in the front chamber, for the more convenient witnessing the execution of the next morning.

Isabella, when left to herself, neither screamed, nor went into hysterics or tears; she sat still and motionless in the chair, into which she had sunk when the dreadful truth was made known to her; she became deadly pale, her temples throbbed, her breathing seemed oppressed, the light swam before her eyes, she uttered a convulsive sob, and, to the terror of her faithful and sympathising attendant, fell senseless upon the floor. The Indian girl, with great presence of mind, though sorely frightened, dashed water in her face, loosened her clothes, and practised all those modes of relief, better understood by ladies than described by me. The unhappy young lady at length recovered, and, with the assistance of her attendant, threw herself upon the bed, and gave way to a flood of tears, to the relief caused by which, and her subsequent repose, we must for a time leave her.

Captain Williams saluted the governor, as they met, with a countenance partaking of anger as well as sorrow; and, without much circumlocution, proceeded to state his business, and interceded most warmly in behalf of his men in confinement. But the old Don, before whose mind visions of promotion and honors were floating, was in no humor to grant petitions of any kind, much less one, the acceding to which would overthrow all his air-built castles; and he steadily refused to listen to the warm-hearted old seaman's arguments, urged with all the fervency of almost paternal affection for both Mr. Morton and his seamen. Unable to oppose or refute the arguments of Captain Williams, proving the innocence of the prisoners, or, at least, the veniality of their offence, if guilty, and the unreasonable disproportion between the crime and the punishment; wearied by the perseverance of the petitioner, and convinced, though unwilling to own it, by his arguments;—convinced, too, that he was making a very ridiculous figure in the eyes of his officers and several merchants who were present, he did, as all obstinate and pig-headed people do when they find themselves in the wrong, and see that they are making themselves contemptible: that is, he plunged still deeper into the wrong, by giving the good old seaman a harsh refusal to his prayer.

At this unexpected and ungentlemanly rebuff, Captain Williams suddenly became calm and silent, and, a moment after, left the office. Those who were present thought they saw in the stern, determined expression of his countenance grounds for apprehension and alarm; having the most extravagant opinion of the desperate and daring courage of the Americans, they looked to see the ensuing night signalized by some desperate attempt on the part of the seaman, to release his companions from imprisonment. Their apprehensions were confirmed in a space of time that seemed impossible to have enabled Captain Williams to reach his ship, by seeing the Albatross, under jib and spanker, slowly standing to the westward, and again anchoring full half a mile farther out to sea than before; not, to be sure, out of reach of the guns of the battery, but at such a distance as to render it extremely problematical whether Spanish artillerymen would be able to throw a shot within half a mile of her, especially in a star-light night.

This movement of the ship alarmed the governor not a little; for he knew that the guarda-costa was absent on a cruize, and it was doubtful when she would return, and that there were but thirty soldiers on duty at the barracks, the rest having recently been drafted into the interior, to wage war against certain straggling, light-fingered gentry, known in that part of the world by the general title of "monteneros," or highlanders, being analogous in their habits and manners, and confused ideas of meum and tuum, to the highland cattle-stealers of Scotland. In this dilemma, the governor's heart began to relent—he thought that he was carrying his severity too far.

On retiring to his house to dinner, he was met by a message from his niece, requesting to see him in her chamber, being too unwell to meet the family at noon. Thither his Excellency ascended with reluctant steps and slow, like a child called from his play to be whipped and sent to bed. He found his niece reclining upon a sofa, pale, languid, and evidently much agitated. She rose to receive him with her accustomed affection, and the old Don seated himself by her side.

"Isabella, my love, you appear to be distressed; what is the matter, child?"

"Dear uncle, my cousin Antonia tells me dreadful news."

"Dreadful news! what is it, dearest?" "She tells me," said Isabella, shuddering and gasping for breath, "that these unfortunate Americans are to be put to death to-morrow morning."

"Poh, poh! what nonsense! you know as well as I do that the law gives me no such power."

"But, dearest uncle, why should they be punished at all? nothing is proved against them, nothing is found about them that indicates guilty intentions," for, notwithstanding her indisposition, she had learned all the facts of the case from her gossip, Juanita, and the officers that had called in the course of the forenoon, "I have heard all the particulars, and confess that I see no reason why they deserve punishment at all."

"You know nothing at all about the matter, child. They have been seen, at other times than last night, landing boxes and bales at the same place."

"Are you quite sure that it was not some other persons?"

The governor paid no attention to this question, which he had never dreamt of asking his informer.

"Besides, if these are pardoned, other offenders will plead their innocence, and refer to the case of these men as a precedent. No, Isabella, I cannot, I dare not do it; they must abide by the consequences."

"Then if their lives are to be spared, what is to be done with them?"

"I shall write to the Viceroy, and keep them confined till I receive his instructions as to their future destiny."

"And that," said the young lady, in a faint voice, "will be worse than death! O think of it, dear, dear uncle."

"You take too gloomy a view of the case," said Don Gaspar, kissing the forehead of the lovely suppliant; "the Viceroy may pardon them, but I dare not—You plead in vain," continued he, as he saw she was about to speak; "were they my own sons, they should undergo the sentence of the law for their misconduct."

Fearing to excite her uncle's suspicions by too great urgency, Isabella changed her battery—

"At least, let them be used kindly—let them have plenty of good food and wine."

"Certainly, dearest little niece," said the governor, delighted to find the most formidable and irresistible of his female assailants so lukewarm in the cause of the prisoners, "and you shall be their provider."

"Me, uncle? well, I own I should wish to visit the prison occasionally, to see that they are comfortable."

"You shall whenever you please," said the Don, rising, and going to Isabella's writing desk; "there, there is an order, signed by my own hand, that will admit you whenever you please." So saying, he retired.



CHAPTER XV.

I know that a woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA.

A writer, evidently a Frenchman, in the British or some other Encyclopaedia, under the article "Man," draws a very ingenious contrast between the two sexes, which is correct enough in its general principles, but exceedingly erroneous in many very important points. Speaking of the different behavior of men and women, under the pressure of grief or calamity, he says, "Woman weeps—man remains silent—woman is in agony when man weeps—she is in despair when man is in agony."

Mr. Philosopher, you are a goose. It is obvious that you have drawn your conclusions from your observations of Frenchmen exclusively, who are theatrical and affected from the cradle to the grave.

"Woman weeps while man remains silent."—True; she gives vent to her feelings by weeping, and her full heart is tranquillized by her tears, which seem not only to relieve and refresh the swollen and burning eyes of the body, but to render those of the mind more clear and penetrating. What, for instance, was the language and sentiment of Mary Queen of Scots, when Rizzio was murdered in her presence? "I will dry up my tears," said the high-spirited descendant of the Stuarts, "and think of revenge." Man's remaining silent is not always an evidence of fortitude or resignation; it may be stupidity and want of feeling, or gloom and sulkiness; a disposition to find fault with Divine Providence for visiting him with affliction.

"Woman is in agony when man weeps." Absurd! her tears have relieved her agony. Like the elastic and pliable willow, she has yielded to the storm of grief, and her buoyant spirit rises comparatively uninjured from the conflict.

"Woman is in despair when man is in agony." It is said that the difference between a fool and a madman is, that the fool draws wrong conclusions from correct principles, and the madman correct conclusions from erroneous principles. I leave my readers to judge under which denomination the author quoted comes. There is but one step in his climax that approaches the truth, and he has drawn a series of wrong conclusions from that. The concurrent testimony of a host of writers, both moralists and historians, goes to establish the fact, that, under the pressure of remediable misfortunes, women have infinitely greater acuteness and quickness of perception of means of relief—more promptness, energy, and courage in carrying them into execution, than men. "Hope the deceiver" retains possession of the heart of woman long, long after man has hanged, shot, or drowned himself in despair.

Isabella was certainly almost overcome by the melancholy intelligence, when first communicated; but weeping and the repose of the morning had tranquillized her, and the facts that she had ascertained had given her fresh courage and hopes. Not daring, however, to urge her uncle too far at that time, as she saw he was out of humor, she was still determined not by any means to regard one, nor two, nor twenty refusals as decisive; but, if he could not be "carried by boarding," to blockade him into compliance. Her uncle's order for her admittance to the prison, she determined only to use occasionally, and as circumstances pointed out, for fear of exciting suspicion; but to reserve it as a sort of sheet anchor for the perfection of a half-formed scheme that was already agitating her brain.

Under pretence of merely ascertaining that the prisoners were supplied with all the comfort that their situation would admit, but in reality to communicate with her lover, she visited the prison that very day. She found the prisoner, who was already heart-sick of the confinement, independently of its probable termination, walking listlessly up and down the passage leading to the inner prison, which was both spacious and airy; for, as before observed, his excellency had so far relented as to direct that the prisoners, during the day, should be permitted to enjoy the air. His surprise at seeing her was extreme—not that he doubted she would make an attempt to see him, but he considered it a hopeless one. She met him with tranquillity, almost cheerfulness.

"Thank heaven!" he exclaimed mentally, "there is some hope of once more snuffing fresh air; that sweet girl would never be so composed unless she had some plan in her mind for my delivery. Isabella, dearest Isabella, tell me, for heaven's sake, how have you managed to get into this place, that every one else is so anxious to keep out of? Has the old Don dismounted from his high horse? He has been polite enough to make me a morning call, but I am afraid he does not intend to allow me to return it. However, as long as he permits you to follow his example, I hope that I shall be enabled to bear the disappointment with becoming resignation."

"Hush, hush! how can you talk so giddily, when you know not what may be your fate?"

"Why, hanging is not a favorite Spanish punishment, so I suppose he will honor me so far as to expend a little powder and shot upon me."

"O, Charles! Charles! be quiet, for heaven's sake. Tell me, what did my uncle say?"

"Say? why, he scolded a good deal, said that I had heretofore behaved very decently, and that he was very sorry to see me here."

"He has written to the viceroy, to know what he is to do with you. My uncle, with all his faults, is an angel of mercy, compared with that cold-blooded, bigoted, cruel man. I have read somewhere that it is written over the gates of the infernal regions 'Let all who enter here leave hope behind.' Let all who fall into the hands of that haughty nobleman, whether innocent or guilty, leave hope behind too. He is governed entirely by his priests, and the very circumstance of your being a Protestant, however harmless, and found in his dominions, would be sufficient to make you an object of hatred and vengeance."

"Well, all that may be; but recollect my country will not tamely permit her sons to be dragged to foreign prisons, without knowing wherefore."

"You cannot suppose that your country will plunge into a war for your sakes?"

"No, no, my love; she would be a fool if she did; but there is a set of fellows called ambassadors, that often do more with their tongues than ten thousand good fellows can with their bayonets. But tell me, if you know, where is the ship? what says the good old Captain Williams to the scrape?"

"The ship has moved farther out, and he has been on shore twice to-day to intercede for you, but without effect, though my uncle has so far relented as to order you all the comforts that you wish."

"I should be obliged to him, then, for the comfort of walking out of prison."

"When the ship moved out of gunshot," continued Isabella, without noticing what she thought his artificial gaiety, "there was some apprehension that Captain Williams intended to make some desperate attempt to release you; but he has been on shore since, and had an interview with my uncle, and the alarm has subsided."

"Well done! that is the best thing I have heard this long time—a whole garrisoned Spanish town thrown into consternation by a single Yankee merchantman! upon my word, I shall entertain a more exalted opinion than ever of Spanish courage."

Isabella permitted him to indulge his national vanity, when she again urged that his situation was but little short of desperate, unless he was speedily relieved from it.

"I know, I know that my head is in the lion's mouth, and how it is to be got out I know not. If I could see Captain Williams—perhaps a good round fine paid to his high mightiness might open these doors."

"I will write to Captain Williams myself," said the young lady, "perhaps something of that kind might be done. In the mean time, whenever you have any wine or other provisions, of which I will see that there shall be no lack, make a point of sharing it with the guard; and, by all means," she added, in a lower tone, "see that the sentry is never forgotten."

"Ha! oho! I see the whole affair—there are never but five men on duty here at night." "Rash, hot-headed creature! there will be no occasion for such madness. Even if you should escape from prison, and reach your ship in safety, which would be next to impossible——"

"Well, what?" said Morton, observing that she was silent. She raised her eyes, swimming in tears.

"I understand you—dear, dear Isabella, do you think I would leave this country without you? No, never."

"Then remain perfectly quiet, attempt nothing, do nothing of yourself. In the mean time," continued she, rising, "do not abandon yourself either to hope or despair."

With these words she left the prison.



CHAPTER XVI.

As cannons shoot the higher pitches The lower we let down their breeches, I'll make this low, dejected fate Advance me to a greater height.

HUDIBRAS.

Captain Williams, immediately upon his landing on the morning after the events related in the last chapter had taken place, was met at the Port by a woman of rather ordinary appearance, who put a letter into his hands, and retired without speaking. The letter was written in a woman's hand, but without signature, and was as follows:

"SIR:—A friend of Mr. Morton is making every possible exertion to deliver him and his companions from imprisonment. That friend entreats that you would do nothing rashly, or that may give cause of alarm or suspicion to the governor or garrison, or to any of the inhabitants. If you will call this evening at the shop of dame Juanita Gomez, in the plaza of San Blas, a person will meet you there, and explain more fully the friendly intentions of the writer."

The honest seaman, after mature deliberation, came to the conclusion that the writer of this anonymous epistle could be no other than the fair Isabella, of whom he had heard Morton speak so often; and he resolved to attend to its directions most strictly. Accordingly, as a preliminary step, he thought best to reconnoitre the plaza as soon as possible, that he might make no unpleasant mistakes in the dusk of evening.

While at St. Blas, he had another interview with the governor, and endeavored to ascertain the intentions of that dignitary with regard to the destination of his prisoners. The governor, however, seemed to regard that as a state secret, and declined making any but a very evasive answer. As some amends for his severity, he condescended to give Captain Williams full permission to visit the prisoners, of which the veteran immediately availed himself. The kind-hearted old seaman was deeply affected, as he held Morton in his arms with all the affection of a fond father—

"That ever I should live to see my old school-fellow Jonathan Morton's son in such a situation, and not be able to help him,"—were the first words he was able to articulate. Morton endeavored to calm him, by repeated assurances that he felt no apprehension; that he had no doubt that a certain friend was busy in projecting a plan for their deliverance. It was some time before he was sufficiently composed to converse.

"Have you tried the old Don with a few doubloons?" asked Morton.

"No, d—n him, I never thought of that; I can't get a word of common sense or common civility out of the old mule."

"I believe if he had taken the boat-load of goods when he took us, that he would have been more willing to listen to you."

"Ah, very like; the old fox missed the goose, and he is venting his malice upon you in stead. But, my dear boy, I don't exactly know how to go to work to offer a bribe. Damme, I could land thirty men this blessed night, and pull this old rookery down, and get you all out that way; but as for bribery, it is a devilish dirty piece of business, to make the best of it; besides, I tell you, I don't know how; if I did, I would try it, as dirty as I think it."

Morton, could not forbear smiling at the old man's unwillingness to employ a piece of machinery, at the present day so indispensable in our government throughout all its branches; he assured him that nothing was more simple; it was only to wait upon the Don in private, and request his acceptance of either cash or certain valuable merchandize, that would be attractive in the sight of the governor. "There are my silver-mounted pistols, and curious East India dagger, and my rifle, that all might be thrown out as baits to begin with;"—it was all in vain; the blunt old seaman still persisted that bribery, or any thing that approximated it, was but a dirty affair after all; and that, although he would leave no plan untried to effect the liberation of the prisoners, there was a moral contamination attached to the mode proposed that he neither could nor would submit to.

True to his appointment, Captain Williams, soon after sunset, repaired to dame Juanita's shop, with the location of which he had previously made himself acquainted. He was introduced by that worthy old lady into her back parlor, if a little apartment ten feet square, with a clay floor and no windows, deserves so dignified, or rather so comfortable a title; and in half an hour a female, closely veiled, entered the room. Notwithstanding her disguise, the old seaman had tact enough to perceive that his companion was young and graceful, or in more modern language, genteel, while the silvery music of her voice, as she addressed him, convinced him that she could be no otherwise than beautiful.

"Are you," said the lady, in a hesitating, tremulous voice, "are you the commander of the American ship in the bay?"

"I am; and you, senorita, are the lady who wrote me the note that I received this morning?"

"Yes, I—that is, I sent you a note requesting to see you."

"And you are the generous, devoted, and true friend that takes such a lively interest in the fate of my friend and officer, and his companions in prison and misfortune?"

"I am—I am," replied the lady hurriedly.

"And you are, in short," continued the commander, rising and respectfully offering his hand, "you are the lady Isabella de Luna?"

"I cannot deny it," said she in a faint voice.

"Then, madam, you see before you one who is acquainted with your story. Nay, never hang your head for shame; Charles Morton is worth any woman's love. I am here ready with hand, heart, and head, to second any and every plan that you may propose, to effect his escape."

The lady remained silent for a few moments, then placing her small hand in the broad, hard palm of the old seaman, replied, "I know that I can put the most implicit confidence in you. I have heard from others—why should I deny it? Mr. Morton has told me often, that, next to his father, he regards you with affection and esteem as his dearest and truest friend."

"And he shall never be deceived in old Israel Williams, I can tell him that, nor shall you, my dear young lady."

"I have but little time to spare," said the young lady, with increasing trepidation, "and my communication must be brief, as my plan is simple. To-morrow night, at ten o'clock, Captain Williams, let your swiftest boat be at the place where Mr. Morton and his companions were taken, and let her wait there until day-break. It may not be in my power to effect my object to-morrow night; but let not one nor two disappointments deter you from repeating the experiment. In the mean time, be on shore to-morrow as though nothing was in agitation; avoid exciting any suspicions by either words, looks, or actions; and be assured, that, if the plan for the rescue of the prisoners fails, it must be from some accident that can neither be foreseen nor prevented."

The commander of the Albatross having promised to follow all these directions to the letter, they separated; he to return to his ship with a joyful heart, and Isabella to reconnoitre the prison previous to retiring to her uncle's house.

She passed the guard-house at a slow pace and at such distance as to avoid observation, but sufficiently near to ascertain that all the guard, four in number besides the corporal, were wrapped up in their cloaks and stretched out sound asleep upon the stone floor of the guard-room, which was lighted by a large clumsy lamp sufficiently to allow her to see its interior. The sentry at the door, who was slowly pacing backwards and forwards with a paper segar in his mouth, was the only one awake.

As she bent her steps homeward, she perceived some one approaching her, in the very direction that she was going, with an uncertain, faltering footstep that denoted considerable intoxication. To avoid him she turned to the right with the purpose of making a circuit; but, before she had gone ten yards with that intention, she perceived that the stranger had quickened his pace and changed his direction, coming directly towards her. Exceedingly alarmed, she turned short round and ran, and in a moment perceived that her pursuer was likewise running, and rapidly gaining upon her. Fear lent her speed, and with the swiftness of a hunted deer she flew across the plaza towards an open space, terminated at its further extremity by the precipitous cliff that the town is built upon, and which we have mentioned more than once. Her intention was to turn quickly round the corner of a house that stood within four feet of the edge of the cliff, and gain another street; or, if there were no other means of escape, to take refuge in the house of a poor widow, one of her pensioners, and obtain a guide and protector to her uncle's house.

Her pursuer was no other than her self-constituted lover, Don Gregorio. He had dined that day with a party of officers, and had dipped rather deeper into the bottle than, to tell the truth, he was often guilty of doing. He suspected that Isabella was in the habit of visiting the prison; but as she was generally accompanied, in all her rambles, by one or both her cousins, he had thought nothing more of the circumstance. But now he was convinced that she was just returning from, or going to, a nocturnal appointment with the prisoner Morton, who had always been an object of his hatred, and in an instant his jealousy was in full operation.

The cliff, towards which he was now approaching, was undefended by wall, fence, or barrier of any kind. My readers have doubtless seen something similar in their lives; that is, a nuisance that has acquired such a venerable character from its antiquity, that it seems a species of sacrilege, a sort of violation of municipal privileges, to remove or repair it. Such, for instance, in city or country, is a gap in the street or road, large enough to swallow a brace of elephants at once: the inhabitants become acquainted with its localities; and, wisely considering that, as it is every body's business, of course it is no body's business, to repair it, leave it "open for the inspection of the public" for a twelvemonth at least; and if any unfortunate stranger tumbles in and breaks his neck, on a dark night, it is ten chances to one that the jury of inquest return for a verdict, that "the deceased came to his death in consequence of intoxication," although he may be the most abstemious water-drinker that ever the sun shone upon. Such was, ten or eleven years ago, to my certain knowledge, the cliff of San Blas.

Maddened with jealousy, and rendered incapable of commanding his movements by intoxication, the unhappy Don Gregorio was whirled, by the impetuosity of his own motion, far over the brow of the hideous precipice. One dismal yell of mortal agony broke the stillness of night, and the next moment his body was heard far below, crashing among the bushes and loose stones at the foot of the cliff. Fainting with horror at the dreadful sight, though ignorant of the person of the victim, Isabella sank upon the ground, and it was some minutes before she recovered sufficiently to rise. When, at length, she was somewhat restored, she turned towards her uncle's house with feeble steps and slow, frequently stopping to lean against the walls of the houses; she tottered into the room where the family were assembled, and sank senseless upon the floor. Her relatives, exceedingly terrified, administered restoratives, and conveyed her to her own chamber, where, when she was somewhat composed, she informed her anxious friends that she had been pursued by an intoxicated person, and was extremely terrified, and begged to be left to her repose, which she assured them was all she required. Having obtained all the information they were likely to, her kind and inquisitive cousins left her, after compelling her to swallow a composing medicine. She awoke in the morning perfectly refreshed; the horrid scene that she had witnessed the night before seeming rather like a terrifying dream than a mournful reality.

Before she left her chamber, a man, with his jaws standing ajar with horror, called upon the governor, and requested to speak with him in private. He then informed his excellency, that as he was rambling through the woods at the foot of the precipice, he had found the dead body of an officer, who had evidently fallen from the cliff above; that it was so frightfully mangled by the fall, that no vestiges of humanity were recognizable in the countenance, or in the body; but that, from the peculiar fashion of the regimentals, he was almost sure that it was his excellency's aid-du-camp, Don Gregorio Nunez. Alarmed by this intelligence, the governor despatched a servant to that officer's quarters, who soon returned with the intelligence that he had not been there since the morning of the preceding day. Further inquiry among his brother officers informed him that he had left their company the evening before about ten o'clock: that he had been drinking freely, rather more freely than usual; and that they had not seen him since.

Having commanded the attendance of two or three officers and as many soldiers, the commandante proceeded to the spot, guided by his first informant, and was convinced, as soon as he saw the crushed and mutilated mass, that it was no other than his unhappy officer. Having given orders for transporting the body to town, he returned to his family, who, although aware, from his abstracted and pensive manner, that something had happened to discompose him, forbore to ask any questions—a line of conduct which, by the way, we would most earnestly recommend to all wives and daughters. Isabella's mind was too much occupied with her own thoughts to notice the silence and melancholy of her uncle; she ate nothing, but her aunt and cousins attributed her want of appetite to the fright of the preceding evening; as her eyes met their kind and anxious looks, and she thought of her determination to quit them forever, she could not restrain her tears; but rising hastily from the table, she took shelter from observation and questioning in her own chamber.



CHAPTER XVII.

—— I did compound A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, would cease The present powers of life; but in short time, All offices of nature should again Do their due functions.

CYMBELINE.

Shortly after the sea-breeze had set in—that is, between eleven and twelve o'clock—a sail was discovered in the western horizon, standing in for the land; which sail the commander of the Albatross, in a short time, made out, with the help of his glass, to be the guarda-costa, to his no small vexation and disappointment. She stood in, however; but instead of anchoring as usual, in what may be called the outer harbor, she ran close in to the landing-place, furled her sails, and then, to Captain Williams's great relief, sent down her fore-yard, stripped it of the sail and rigging, and launched it overboard. Two boats, full of men, were soon seen towing it ashore, the spar having been "sprung" in one of those sudden and violent "flaws" of wind so peculiar to high and mountainous coasts.

All this was extremely gratifying to the commander of the American ship; in the first place the Venganza (for that was the warlike name of this redoubtable man-of-war), by lying so far up the harbor, was out of the line between the Albatross and the point where it was intended to send a boat that night; and secondly, the absence of so indispensable a spar as the fore-yard would render pursuit impossible.

Captain Williams went on shore in the afternoon, and met the old Don, who treated him with great condescension, and even hinted at the probability of his making another visit to the Albatross, to which hint the seaman replied as politely as could be expected. It was nearly night when he once more entered dame Juanita's shop, from which he took the liberty to despatch a message to Isabella. She appeared in a few minutes, and hastily assured him that the prospect of success was bright, and that nothing existed at that time that threatened to defeat their plans.

As soon as he returned to his ship, he made preparations for getting under way as speedily as possible; the bower anchor was hove up, and the ship rode by a light kedge, there being then but little wind or tide; the gaskets were cast off the topsails, and their places supplied with ropeyarns, which would break as soon as the "bunts," or middle of the sails, were let fall; the chewlines and other running-rigging were overhauled; and every other plan for making sail upon the ship as expeditiously and as silently as possible, was adopted. The crew of the Albatross performed all these different acts of duty with silence and alacrity. Although their commander had not communicated his plan to them, they knew by instinct that something bold and daring was to be attempted that night for the rescue of their favorite officer, and their four messmates; and their hopes of a brush with the "Don Degos" were most keenly excited. They were assembled on the forecastle, holding "high dispute" and conjecture upon the course about to be pursued.

"Now if I was the old man," said one of the younger seamen, "I tell you what I would do. I would jest land as many of us as could be spared, with cutlasses and boarding-pikes"—

"And pistols," interrupted another.

"No; d—n your pistols; they make too much noise; they're all talk and no cider; besides, they miss fire half the time; and before you get ready for another shot, Don Dego has his thundering baggonet right in your g—ts; and then where are you?"

"Now you may all of you," said an old seaman, "you may all of you just pipe belay with your jaw-tackle-falls. Captain Williams knows what he's about, and you'll know before morning what he's up to. You'd better take a fool's advice, and catch a cat-nap before you're called away. The boats a'n't histed up, and when did you ever know 'em in the water after dark since we've been lying here?" So saying, the veteran disappeared down the fore-ladder.

"There goes old Jemmy Bush, starn foremost down the fore-scuttle, like a land-bear going into his hole."

"Well," said another smart, active young seaman, the favorite of the crew; "I shall take old Jemmy's advice, and go and get forty winks in my hammock. If there's more or less of us sent on this expedition, we sha'n't be called away till ten or eleven o'clock, when all the Degos are asleep, and there's nothing awake in the town but fleas and cats."

The proposition for sleeping prevailed, and the groups on the forecastle began to disappear, when the voice of the second mate was heard:

"For'ard there!"

"Sir, sir," answered half a dozen eager voices at once.

"Who has the anchor watch?"

"Bill Thompson and Sam Hughes, sir."

"Go in the boats alongside, and see that they have their full complement of oars; and see, too, that the masts and sails are on board all of them."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"Do you hear that, my sons of brass?" said old Jones, the boatswain, "that looks as if there was going to be wigs on the green before morning."

We must now leave the marine department for awhile, in order to attend to exclusively terrene concerns. As night closed, Morton could not avoid feeling extreme anxiety; Isabella had not visited the prison since the day previous, nor had she sent any message. Doubts the most annoying possessed his mind—at one time he thought she had been detected in her schemes for his rescue; then that her courage had failed, and she had abandoned him to his fate; or that her affection for her relatives had overcome her love for him. He had partially made known to his four fellow-prisoners his hopes of relief, cautioning them against sleeping, but enjoining upon them to keep perfectly quiet.

It was now past nine o'clock; and, with mingled feelings of disappointment, grief, and anger, he was just resigning all hopes, when the sentry at the door challenged. The next moment a person dressed in a long, loose cloak stood before him, whom he immediately recognized as his loved Isabella.

"I have brought you some supper and some wine," said the young lady, addressing him, as usual upon similar occasions, in Spanish; "I ought to have come before, but it was impossible."

So saying, she set her basket upon the stone bench, and, in so doing, whispered Morton:

"Every thing is ready; be patient, and be guided by me."

"But how are you about to manage these fellows? it will take all night to get them drunk, if that is your plan; for your soldiers, it cannot be denied, are extremely temperate, and will seldom do me the honor to empty more than a single bottle among the whole five."

"Hush, hush; I have a surer way than mere wine."

As she spoke she drew from her bosom a phial, containing a dark liquid. Morton started back in horror—(he thought he saw, in the composed and lovely countenance of the beautiful being before him, the cold-blooded, deliberate, practised assassin—)

"Good God! Isabella, is it possible? never, never will I owe my life and liberty to such abominable, such cowardly means!"

"Dismiss your suspicions," said Isabella, turning pale and trembling; "they are unworthy of you, and wholly unmerited by me. Not to save your life, which I value as I do my own, would I commit mur—the crime that you suspect. This phial contains a simple opiate, not half so dangerous or disagreeable as the laudanum and camphor of your ship's medicine chest. The sleep produced by it is speedy and deep, and lasts four or five hours."

Observing that Morton still looked distrustingly, she continued, with streaming eyes—

"Dear Charles, if you doubt me still, I will swallow the whole; its operation will not take place before I reach home, and will only cause long, deep sleep; but, in that case, your hopes of escape are cut off forever. To-morrow, or the next day, at farthest, you are to be sent to the capital"—her tears choked her utterance.

"Dearest Isabella," said Morton, taking her hands in both his, and pressing them to his bosom, "forgive my cruel suspicions, but I own you startled me exceedingly."

"Leave all to my management, and in half an hour all will be well."

In the mean time the seamen had "boarded" the basket, and spread its contents upon the stone bench, that did triple duty as a bed, a seat, and a table, as occasion required. The soldiers roused themselves at the gurgling sound of the wine, as it was decanted into cups made of the large end of an ox's horn, scraped thin, and capable of containing a pint or more. Isabella dexterously poured the contents of the phial into a cup, which was filled with wine, and Morton, taking it in his hand, approached the corporal with a nod of invitation. After holding it to his lips for some time, as if taking a deep draught, he passed it to the corporal; that officer, touching his cap a la militaire, drank and passed the horn, according to South American custom, to his comrades. The prisoners and Isabella watched its circulation with most painful anxiety, and soon had the felicity of beholding it turned bottom upwards over the mouth of the sentry at the door. Another bottle was opened, and poured, unobserved by the soldiers, into another cup, which, being handed to the sailors, was almost immediately passed back again, "a body without a soul." Another cup, medicated like the first, was prepared, and the prisoners, apparently busied with their supper, awaited with trepidation the effect of the medicine.

After the lapse of fifteen or twenty minutes, which seemed as many hours to the prisoners, the corporal betrayed palpable symptoms of somnolency. He had seated himself with his back to the wall, and his feet towards a small fire that was kept burning in the middle of the guard-room every night, to drive away the moschetoes, and had commenced a song, in a low voice. The first stanza he managed very respectably; but, before he had half finished the second, both the air and words seemed strangely deranged; his head sank upon his breast, and he snored repeatedly, instead of singing; he made an effort to arouse himself, uttered that ejaculation common to all ranks and both sexes of Spaniards, but which is too gross to be written, and, stretching himself at full length upon the floor, was sound asleep in an instant. His three comrades were not slow in following his example; wrapped in their ponchos, or South American cloaks, they "took ground" around the fire, and were soon asleep.

The sentry at the door, after two or three times stumbling over his own feet, and as often dropping his musket out of his arms from mere drowsiness, came into the guard-room to light a segar, which he eventually accomplished at the imminent risk of pitching head foremost into the fire. He resumed his station at the door, but was too sleepy to walk on his post; he seated himself on the stone bench, the butt of his musket resting upon the ground between his feet, and the muzzle leaning against his shoulder; the lighted segar dropped from his mouth; he leaned his head against the door-post, extended his feet and legs, and in a few seconds his nasal organ, in strains like the nocturnal song of one of our largest bull-frogs, gave notice that he was "absent without leave" to the land of Nod.

Isabella now arose, and, motioning to the prisoners to remain quiet, tripped backwards and forwards through the guard-room, to ascertain that the soldiers were asleep. Having satisfied herself on this point, she beckoned to them to follow her. In passing through the guard-room, Morton as well as his companions felt a strong inclination to possess themselves of the arms of the guard, which were piled in one corner. Their fair guide however entreated them to desist; but one of the seamen, in attempting, to use his own language, to "unship" one of the bayonets, made so much noise with the muskets, as alarmed himself as well as the rest; and the whole party sallied out unarmed.

Near the door they were met by another person, that alarmed the prisoners exceedingly; but it proved to be Transita, Isabella's Mexican servant, loaded with two "sizeable" bundles; for the annals of elopements, from the earliest ages down to the present day, have not recorded a single instance of a lady's running away from "cruel parents" or cross husband without the accompaniment of a sufficient quantity of baggage; nay, I have heard of one young lady who accomplished a most perilous descent from her chamber window into the arms of an expecting lover, and returned for her favorite lap-dog, at the most imminent risk of detection and close imprisonment at the hands of her "ugly, old, cross papa."

Transita, like her mistress, was dressed in boy's clothes, a disguise that so effectually imposed upon the four sailors, that in a whispered conversation between them it it was decided that the two "young gentlemen" were the sons of the merchant to whom the cargo had been sold. Keeping close to the side of the plaza, the whole party advanced swiftly and silently without meeting a human being, and turned down the open space where Don Gregorio had met his horrid fate. As the dreadful scene rose to Isabella's memory, she could not repress a faint exclamation of horror, and hurried with increased speed down the narrow pathway on the edge of the cliff, to escape from the hideous recollection. Just as they were emerging from their narrow and crooked path into the street that terminated in the blind passage through the wood, they were startled by the regular, heavy tread of soldiers, apparently approaching them. It was a small patrol of a corporal and three men from the barrack at the water side, but who were not connected with the guard in the plaza. As they drew nigh, the party stood perfectly still, except that one of the tars drew forth his jack-knife, and another picked up a moderate-sized stone, observing in a whisper that if they came too nigh, he would try which was the hardest, a Spaniard's scull or that "ground nut," as he designated the stone which he held in his hand. The soldiers, however, passed on without seeing them, and in a few seconds their footsteps became inaudible.



CHAPTER XVIII.

"She is won: we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur; They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.

MARMION.

The liberated seamen once more pushed forward, no longer guided by Isabella, who had got as far as her knowledge of the place extended, and were again, in nautical language, "brought up all standing." A priest, returning from the death-bed of one of his flock, saw them gliding along silently and in "Indian file." His head being full of good wine, death, the devil, &c., and the place enjoying moreover the reputation of being haunted, his imagination magnified and multiplied the seven fugitives into a legion of devils, with horns, tails, and fiery breath complete. Under this impression he began to thunder forth a Latin form of exorcism: "In nomine sanctae Trinitatis et purissimae Virginis, exorcizo vos! Apage, Satana! Vade retro, diabole!" &c. &c. in such abominably bad Latin, that a devil or a ghost of the least classical taste would have incontinently fled to the Red Sea, without waiting to hear another syllable of the formula that sent him thither. The bawling of the priest awoke several of the neighbors, and sundry night-capped heads were protruded from the windows of the nearest houses; but the proprietors, catching a glimpse of the objects of the priest's alarm, and not caring to play bo-peep with the devil, closed and barred their casements, and betook them to their beads.

The party glided on in the same swift, silent pace; but the hindmost sailor, irritated by the continued vociferation of the priest, and stumbling at that moment over the carcase of a dog that had given up the ghost a few hours before, seized it by the hind leg, and flung it at the holy man with such true aim and force, as brought him to the ground. Luckily the monk swooned away with terror at this unexpected buffeting in the flesh from Satan, and his noise was consequently stopped. The next moment the party plunged into the bushy path, and were instantly lost to the view of the inhabitants, if indeed any were looking after them.

Advancing swiftly along the rough path, and losing their way two or three times, they at length heard the light dash of the surf upon the sand-beach; but, to their no small alarm, they also plainly heard, from time to time, the low hum of voices, though their language was not distinguishable. Fearing the worst, Morton advanced alone to reconnoitre, notwithstanding Isabella's earnest entreaties not to be left alone. Moving slowly and cautiously towards the point whence proceeded the voices, the soft sand rendering his footsteps inaudible, he approached as near as he durst, and listened for some minutes with the most fixed attention, to catch a word that would indicate the character and nation of the speakers, but in vain; and he was on the point of returning to his friends in despair, when he plainly distinguished the exclamation, "d——n my eyes," uttered by some one at no great distance from where he stood. No Sontag or Malibran ever warbled a note that contained a hundredth part of the sweetness and music that was comprised in that simple and unsophisticated ejaculation; it decided in an instant, and beyond all possibility of doubt, who and what was the speaker. His joy was inconceivable, and he could scarce refrain from giving vent to it in a loud shout. Returning immediately, he communicated the joyful intelligence to his friends; and the whole party, with light hearts and rapid steps, advanced towards the beach. Just as they stepped from the shade and covert of the bushes, a pistol, the bright barrel of which glittered in the star-light, was presented to Morton's breast; and the holder thereof, in a grum voice, commanded him to "stand!"

"Heave to, and let's overhaul your papers," continued the speaker, who was immediately recognized, by the voice, as Jones, the boatswain of the Albatross.

"Hush, hush, don't speak so loud; 'tis I, 'tis Morton—Jones, is that you, my old boy?"

"God bless you, Mr. Morton, it is you indeed—I thought 'twas a raft of them thundering sojers bearing down upon us. I've been lying to, under the lee of this 'ere bush, for this two hours or more, waiting for you."

The parleying between their "look-out ship," as they called Jones, and the strangers, attracted the whole party of the Albatross to the spot; and Morton, to his surprise, found himself and his companions surrounded by at least thirty well-armed men. His friend Walker, the second mate of the ship, advanced, and testifying the sincerest affection, welcomed him once more to liberty and the company of his shipmates. Kind greetings and hearty welcomes were given by the seamen, in their blunt, straight-forward way, and not a few jokes were passed upon the four liberated tars by their light-hearted messmates.

"I say, Tom Wentworth, how much grub did the Don Degos allow you? a rat a-piece, or the hind leg of a jackass among the four of you?"

"Ay," said another, "and Sundays they had a jackass's head stewed in a lantern, and stuffed with sogers' coats."

"Yes," said a third, "and green-hide soup three times a week."

"Seasoned with brick-dust and pig-weeds," said a fourth, "by way of red pepper and cabbages."

"Well, never mind what they've had," said old Tom Jones, interposing, "one thing's sartain, they ha'n't had any steam, that's jist as clear as mud."

"You're idle there, old Tom Pipes; we've had as much good wine as we could lay our sides to. But howsomever, if you've got any white-eye in that black betty that you're rousing out of your pea-jacket pocket, I don't much care if I take a drop."

"Poor children!" said the boatswain, "they've been kept this whole week in a snug, warm caliboose, and they'll catch cold if they're out in the night air."

So saying, he offered his junk-bottle of New England to Morton, who declined it, and it was then passed to his four fellow-prisoners, who took a long, deliberate, steady aim at the stars through it in succession.

By this time the two whale-boats and yawls, that constituted the flotilla of the shore party, were hauled as close to the beach as the shoalness of the water would permit, and the embarkation commenced; Morton carrying the fair Isabella in his arms, and depositing her in the stern-sheets of the swiftest of the boats, in which he found ample store of boat-cloaks and pea-jackets to protect her from the night air and heavy dews. Her attendant, Transita, was about following her mistress, when Tom Jones, who had no suspicion that there were more than one "young gentleman" concerned in effecting the escape of his shipmates, or about taking passage in the ship, laid his huge hand upon her shoulder, exclaiming,

"Halloa! shipmate, where are you bound to, if the wind stands?"

"What are you about there, Jones?" shouted Morton from the boat, "she—he, I mean, is to go off with us. Take him through the surf."

"Ay, ay, sir; come, Mr. She—he, just get upon my shoulders, if you please; come, bear a hand before it snows—there, stow yourself away in the starn-sheets—there, that's the time of day—shove her bows off, Sam, and jump aboard—so, pull round your larboard oars—now give way together."

Their oars being all muffled, they glided, silently and swiftly, towards the offing, edging away a little to the south, or farther side of the bay, to avoid the possibility of observation from the shore. They had proceeded swiftly for some minutes, and had passed the point on which the battery stands without speaking a word, when the silence was broken by Morton,—

"Where is the ship, Jones? do you see any thing of her?"

The boatswain desisted rowing, and, holding his head down as near the water as possible, looked long and anxiously to the western horizon.

"I don't see her," said he, "unless that's her, here on our starboard bow."

"No, that's the rock."

By this time the other boats had come up, and all agreed that nothing could be seen of the ship. After a brief consultation, it was decided that their safest plan was to continue rowing to the westward, and that they would be sure of seeing the ship at day-break; whereas if daylight found them in the bay, they would most assuredly be seen, and chased by the boats from the shore.

Isabella, whom most powerful excitement had supported from the prison to the point of embarkation, had since then, reclining on the stern-sheets of the boat, and supported by her lover's arms, been in a state of stupor and silence; her thoughts were in a complete whirl, almost amounting to delirium; the kind and soothing voice of Morton she scarcely heard, and she only awoke to consciousness during the short deliberation just mentioned. In an agony of terror at the doubt and uncertainty that she heard expressed around her, she uttered the wildest exclamations, and struggled with Morton and her attendant, who endeavored in vain to pacify and sooth her. With unspeakable anguish Morton witnessed, for half an hour, the confusion of her intellects, till at length she sunk down exhausted, and wept bitterly. At this moment a voice from the yawl that had gone ahead, shouted, "There she is!"

"Where, where?" asked a dozen eager voices.

"Right ahead."

Every eye was instantly turned in that direction, and, to their unutterable joy, they saw, at the distance of about a mile, the light of a signal-lantern. Every oar was most vigorously plied, and in a few minutes the headmost boat was greeted with "Boat ahoy!" from Captain Williams—"Albatross," was the reply, and the boats dashed up to the lee gangway and fore-chains.