Matilda Montgomerie; Or, The Prophecy Fulfilled

by Major Richardson

  CHAPTER XVI.

  A few days after the adventure detailed in our last chapter, theAmerican party, consisting of Major and Miss Montgomerie, and thedaughters of the Governor, with their attendants, embarked in theschooner, to the command of which Gerald had been promoted. Thedestination of the whole was the American port of Buffalo, situate atthe further extremity of the lake, nearly opposite to the fort of Erie;and thither our hero, perfectly recovered from the effects of hisaccident, received instructions to repair without loss of time, land hischarge, and immediately rejoin the flotilla at Amherstburg.

  However pleasing the first, the latter part of the order was by no meansso strictly in consonance with the views and feelings of the newcommander, as might have been expected from a young and enterprisingspirit; but he justified his absence of zeal to himself, in the factthat there was no positive service to perform; no duty in which he couldhave an opportunity of signalizing himself, or rendering a benefit tohis country.

  If, however, the limited period allotted for the execution of his dutywas a source of much disappointment to Gerald, such was not the effectproduced by it on his brother, to whom it gave promise of a speedytermination of an attachment which he had all along regarded withdisapprobation, and a concern amounting almost to dread. We have seenthat Henry Grantham, on the occasion of his brother's disaster at thepic-nic, had been wound up into an enthusiasm of gratitude, which hadnearly weaned him from his original aversion; but this feeling had notoutlived the day on which the occurrence took place. Nay, on the verynext morning, he had had a long private conversation with Gerald inregard to Miss Montgomerie, which, ending as it did, in a partialcoolness, had tended to make him dislike the person who had caused itstill more. It was, therefore, not without secret delight that heoverheard the order for the instant return of the schooner, which,although conveyed by the Commodore in the mildest manner, was yet sofirm and decided as to admit neither of doubt nor dispute. While thedangerous American continued a resident at Detroit, there was everyreason to fear that the attachment of his infatuated brother, fed byopportunity, would lead him to the commission of some irrevocable act ofimprudence; whereas, on the contrary, when she had departed, there wasevery probability that continued absence, added to the stirringincidents of war which might be expected shortly to ensue, would proveeffectual in restoring the tone of Gerald's mind. There was,consequently, much to please him in the order for departure. MissMontgomerie once landed within the American lines, and his brotherreturned to his duty, the anxious soldier had no doubt that the feelingsof the latter would resume their wonted channel and that, in his desireto render himself worthy of glory, to whom he had been originallydevoted, he would forget, at least after a season, all that wasconnected with love.

  It was a beautiful autumnal morning when the schooner weighed anchorfrom Detroit. Several of the officers of the garrison had accompaniedthe ladies on board, and having made fast their sailing boat to thestern, loitered on deck with the intention of descending the river a fewmiles, and then beating up against the current. The whole party werethus assembled, conversing together and watching the movements of thesailors, when a boat, in which were several armed men encircling a huge,raw-boned individual, habited in the fashion of an Americanbackwoodsman, approached the vessel. This was no other than the traitorDesborough, who, it will be recollected, was detained and confined inprison at the surrender of Detroit. He had been put upon his trial forthe murder of Major Grantham, but had been acquitted through want ofevidence to convict, his own original admission being negatived by asubsequent declaration that he had only made it through a spirit ofbravado and revenge. Still, as the charges of desertion and treason hadbeen substantiated against him, he was, by order of the commandant ofAmherstburgh, destined for Fort Erie, in the schooner conveying theAmerican party to Buffalo, with a view to his being sent on to the LowerProvince, there to be disposed of as the General Commanding in Chiefshould deem fit.

  The mien of the settler, as he now stepped over the vessel's side,partook of the mingled cunning and ferocity by which he had formerlybeen distinguished. While preparations were being made for his receptionand security below deck, he bent his sinister yet bold glance on each ofthe little group in succession, as if he would have read in theircountenances the probable fate that awaited himself. The last who fellunder his scrutiny was Miss Montgomerie, on whom his eye had scarcelyrested when the insolent indifference of his manner seemed to give placeat once to a new feeling. There was intelligence enough in the glance ofboth to show that an insensible interest had been created, and yetneither gave the slightest indication by word of what was passing in themind.

  "Well, Mister Jeremiah Desborough," said Middlemore, first breaking thesilence, and in the taunting mode of address he usually adopted towardsthe settler, "I reckon as how you'll shoot no wild ducks this season, onthe Sandusky river--not likely to be much troubled with your small boresnow."

  The ruffian gazed at him a moment in silence, evidently ransacking hisbrain for something sufficiently insolent to offer in return. At lengthhe drew his hat slouchingly over one side of his head, folded his armsacross his chest, and squirting a torrent of tobacco juice from hiscapacious jaws, exclaimed in his drawling voice:

  "I guess, Mister Officer, as how you're mighty cute upon a fallenman--but tarnation seize me if I don't expect you'll find some one cuterstill afore long. The sogers all say," he continued, with a low cunninglaugh, "as how you're a bit of a wit, and fond of a play upon wordslike. If so, I'll jist try you a little at your own game, and tell youthat I had a thousand to one rather be troubled with my small bores,than with such a confounded great bore as you are; and now, you may pitthat down as something good in your pun book when you please, and ax meno more questions."

  Long and fitful was the laughter which burst from Villiers and Molineuxat this bitter retort upon their companion, which they vowed should berepeated at the mess-table of either garrison, whenever he againattempted one of his execrables.

  Desborough took courage at the license conveyed by this pleasantry, andpursued, winking familiarly to Captain Molineux, while he, at the sametime, nodded to Middlemore.

  "Mighty little time, I calculate, had he to think of aggravatin', when Igripped him down at Hartley's pint that day. If it hadn't been for thatold heathen scoundrel, Girtie, my poor boy Phil, as the Injuns killed,and me, I reckon, would have sent him and young Grantham to crack theirpuns upon the fishes of the lake. How scared they were, sure_ly_."

  "Silence, fellow!" thundered Gerald Grantham, who now came up from thehold, whither he had been to examine the fastenings prepared for hisprisoner. "How dare you open your lips here?"--then pointing towards thesteps he had just quitted--"descend, sir!"

  Never did human countenance exhibit marks of greater rage thanDesborough's at that moment. His eyes seemed about to start from theirsockets--the large veins of his neck and brow swelled almost tobursting, and while his lips were compressed with violence, his nervousfingers played, as with convulsive anxiety to clutch themselves aroundthe throat of the officer--every thing, in short, marked the effort itcost him to restrain himself within such bounds as his natural cunningand prudence dictated. Still, he neither spoke nor moved.

  "Descend, sir, instantly!" repeated Gerald, "or, by Heaven, I will haveyou thrown in without further ceremony--descend this moment!"

  The settler advanced, placed one foot upon the ladder, then turned hiseye steadfastly upon the officer. Every one present shuddered to beholdits expression--it was that of fierce, inextinguishable hatred.

  "By hell, you will pay me one day or t'other for this, I reckon," heuttered in a hoarse and fearful whisper--"every dog has his day--it willbe Jeremiah Desborough's turn next."

  "What! do you presume to threaten, villain?" vociferated Gerald, nowexcited beyond all bounds: "here, men, gag me this fellow--tie him neckand heels, and throw him into the hold, as you would a bag of ballast."

  Several men, with Sambo at their head, advanced for the purpose ofexecu
ting the command of their officer, when the eldest daughter of theGovernor, who had witnessed the whole scene, suddenly approached thelatter, and interceded warmly for a repeal of the punishment. MissMontgomerie also, who had been a silent observer, glanced significantlytowards the settler. What her look implied no one was quick enough todetect; but its effect on the culprit was evident--for, without utteringanother syllable, or waiting to be again directed, he moved slowly andsullenly down the steps that led to his place of confinement.

  Whatever the impressions produced upon the minds of the severalspectators by this incident, they were not expressed. No comment wasmade, nor was further allusion made to the settler. Other topics ofconversation were introduced, and it was not until the officers, havingbid them a final and cordial adieu, had again taken to their boats ontheir way back to Detroit, that the ladies quitted the deck for thecabin which had been prepared for them.

  The short voyage down the lake was performed without incident. From themoment of the departure of the officers, an air of dulness andabstraction, originating in a great degree in the unpleasantness ofseparation--anticipated and past--pervaded the little party. Sensitiveand amiable as were the daughters of the American Governor, it was notto be supposed that they parted without regret from men in whose societythey had recently passed so many agreeable hours, and for two of whomthey had insensibly formed preferences. Not however that that partingwas to be considered final, for both Molineux and Villiers had promisedto avail themselves of the first days of peace, to procure leave ofabsence, and revisit them in their native country. The feeling ofdisappointment acknowledged by the sisters, was much more perceptible inGerald Grantham and Miss Montgomerie, both of whom became morethoughtful and abstracted as the period of separation drew nearer.

  It was about ten o'clock on the evening immediately preceding that onwhich they expected to gain their destination, that, as Gerald leanedruminating over the side of the schooner, then going at the slow rate oftwo knots an hour, he fancied he heard voices, in a subdued tone,ascending apparently from the quarter of the vessel in which Desboroughwas confined. He listened attentively for a few moments, but even theslight gurgling of the water, as it was thrown from the prow, preventedfurther recognition. Deeming it possible that the sounds might notproceed from the place of confinement of the settler, but from thecabin, which it adjoined, and with which it communicated, he was for atime undecided whether or not he should disturb the party alreadyretired to rest by descending and passing into the room occupied by hisprisoner. Anxiety to satisfy himself that the latter was secure,determined him, and he had already planted a foot on thecompanion-ladder, when his further descent was arrested by MissMontgomerie, who appeared emerging from the opening, bonneted andcloaked, as with a view of continuing on deck.

  "What! you, dearest Matilda?" he asked, delightedly, "I thought you hadlong since retired to rest."

  "To rest, Gerald!--can you, then, imagine mine is a soul to slumber,when I know that to-morrow we part--perhaps for ever?"

  "No, by Heaven, not for ever!" energetically returned the sailor,seizing and carrying the white hand that pressed his own to hislips--"be but faithful to me, my own Matilda--love me but with one halfthe ardor with which my soul glows for you, and the moment duty can besacrificed to affection, you may expect again to see me."

  "Duty!" repeated the American, with something like reproach in her tone,"must the happiness of her you profess so ardently to love, besacrificed to a mere cold sense of duty? But you are right--you have_your_ duty to perform, and I have _mine_. To-morrow we separate, andfor ever!"

  "No, Matilda--not for ever, unless, indeed, such be your determination._You_ may find the task to forget an easy one--_I_ never can.Hope--heart--life--happiness---all are centered in you. Were it not thathonor demands my service to my country, I would fly with you to-morrow,delighted to encounter every difficulty fortune might oppose, if, bysuccessfully combating these, I should establish a deeper claim on youraffection. Oh, Matilda!" continued the impassioned youth, "never did Ifeel more than at this moment, how devotedly I could be your slave forever."

  At the commencement of this conversation, Miss Montgomerie had gentlyled her lover towards the outer gangway of the vessel, over which theyboth now leaned. As Gerald made the last passionate avowal of histenderness, a ray of triumphant expression, clearly visible in the lightof the setting moon, passed over the features of the American.

  "Gerald," she implored earnestly, "oh, repeat me that avowal! Again tellme that you will be the devoted of your Matilda in _all_ things--Gerald,swear most solemnly that you will--my every hope of happiness dependsupon it."

  How could he refuse, to such a pleader, the repetition of hisspontaneous vow? Already were his lips opened to swear, before HighHeaven, that, in all things earthly he would obey her will, when he wasinterrupted by a well-known voice hastily exclaiming:

  "Who a debbel dat dare?"

  Scarcely had these words been uttered, when they were followedapparently by a blow, then a bound, and then the falling of a human bodyupon the deck. Gently disengaging his companion, who had clung to himwith an air of alarm, Gerald turned to discover the cause of theinterruption. To his surprise, he beheld Sambo, whose post of duty wasat the helm, lying extended on the deck, while at the same moment asudden plunge was heard, as of a heavy body falling overboard. The firstimpulse of the officer was to seize the helm, with a view to right thevessel, already swerving from her course, the second, to awaken thecrew, who were buried in sleep on the forecastle. These, with thehabitual promptitude of their nature, speedily obeyed his call, and alight being brought, Gerald, confiding the helm to one of his best men,proceeded to examine the condition of Sambo.

  It was evident that the aged negro had been stunned, but whetherseriously injured it was impossible to decide. No external wound wasvisible, and yet his breathing was that of one who had received somesevere bodily harm. In a few minutes, however, he recovered hisrecollection, and the first words he uttered, as he gazed wildly around,and addressed his master, were sufficient to explain the whole affair:

  "Damn him debbel, Massa Geral, he get safe off, him billain."

  "Ha, Desborough! it is then so? Quick, put the helm about--two of thelightest and most active into my canoe, and follow in pursuit. Thefellow is making for the shore, no doubt. Now then, my lads," as two ofthe crew sprang into the canoe that had been instantly lowered, "fiftydollars between you, recollect, if you bring him back."

  Although there needed no greater spur to exertion, than a desire both toplease their officer and to acquit themselves of a duty, the sum offeredwas not without its due weight. In an instant the canoe was seenscudding along the surface of the water towards the shore, and atintervals, as the anxious Gerald listened, he fancied he coulddistinguish the exertions of the fugitive swimmer from those made by thepaddles of his pursuers. For a time all was silent, when, at length, aderiding laugh came over the surface of the lake, that too plainly toldthe settler had reached the shore, and was beyond all chance of capture.In the bitterness of his disappointment, and heedless of the pleasurehis change of purpose had procured him, Gerald could not help cursinghis folly, in having suffered himself to be diverted from his originalintention of descending to the prisoner's place of confinement. Had thisbeen done, all might have been well. He had now no doubt that the voiceshad proceeded from thence, and he was resolved, as soon as the absentmen came on board, to institute a strict inquiry into the affair.

  No sooner, therefore, had the canoe returned, than all hands weresummoned and questioned, under a threat of severe punishment to whoevershould be found prevaricating as to the manner of the prisoner's escape.Each positively denied having in any way violated the order whichenjoined that no communication should take place between the prisonerand the crew, to whom indeed all access was denied, with the exceptionof Sambo, entrusted with the duty of carrying the former his meals. Thedenial of the men was so straight-forward and clear, that Gerald knewnot what to believe; and yet it was evide
nt that the sounds he had heardproceeded from human voices. Determined to satisfy himself, his firstcare was to descend between the decks, preceded by his boatswain, with alantern. At the sternmost extremity of the little vessel there was asmall room used for stores, but which, empty on this trip, had beenconverted into a cell for Desborough. This was usually entered from thecabin; but in order to avoid inconvenience to the ladies, a door hadbeen effected in the bulk-heads, the key of which was kept by Sambo. Oninspection, this door was found hermetically closed, so that it becameevident, if the key had not been purloined from its keeper, the escapeof Desborough must have been accomplished through the cabin. Moreover,there was no opening of any description to be found, through which aknife might be passed to enable him to sever the bonds which confinedhis feet. Close to the partition were swung the hammocks of two men, whohad been somewhat dilatory in obeying the summons on deck, and betweenwhom it was not impossible the conversation, which Gerald had detected,had been carried on. On re-ascending, he again questioned these men; butthey most solemnly assured him they had not spoken either together or toothers within the last two hours, having fallen fast asleep on beingrelieved from their watch. Search was now made in the pockets of Sambo,whose injury had been found to be a violent blow given on the back ofthe head, and whose recovery from stupefaction was yet imperfect. Thekey being found, all suspicion of participation was removed from thecrew, who could have only communicated from their own quarter of thevessel, and they were accordingly dismissed; one half, comprising thefirst watch, to their hammocks--the remainder to their original stationon the forecastle.

  The next care of the young Commander was to inspect the cabin, andinstitute a strict scrutiny as to the manner in which the escape hadbeen effected. The door that opened into the prison, stood between thecompanion ladder and the recess occupied by the daughters of theGovernor. To his surprise, Gerald found it locked, and the key thatusually remained in a niche near the door, removed. On turning to searchfor it, he also noticed, for the first time, that the lamp, suspendedfrom a beam in the centre of the cabin, had been extinguished. Struck bythese remarkable circumstances, a suspicion, which he would have givenmuch not to have entertained, forced itself upon his mind. As a firstmeasure, and that there might be no doubt whatever on the subject, hebroke open the door. Of course it was untenanted. Upon a small table laythe remains of the settler's last meal, but neither knife nor fork,both which articles had been interdicted, were to be found. At the footof the chair on which he had evidently been seated for the purpose offreeing himself, lay the heavy cords that had bound his ankles. Thesehad been severed in two places, and, as was discovered on closeexamination, by the application of some sharp and delicate cuttinginstrument. Nowhere, however, was this visible. It was evident to Geraldthat assistance had been afforded from some one within the cabin, andwho that some one was, he scarcely doubted. With this impression, fullyformed, he re-entered from the prison, and standing near the curtainedberth occupied by the daughters of the Governor, questioned as towhether they were aware that his prisoner Desborough had escaped. Bothexpressed surprise in so natural a manner, that Gerald knew not what tothink; but when they added that they had not heard the slightestnoise--nor had spoken themselves, nor heard others speak, professingmoreover ignorance that the lamp even had been extinguished, he feltsuspicion converted into certainty.

  It was impossible, he conceived, that a door which stood only two pacesfrom the bed could be locked and unlocked without their hearingit--neither was it probable that Desborough would have thought of thusneedlessly securing the place of his late detention. Such an idea mightoccur to the aider, but not to the fugitive himself, to whom everymoment must be of the highest importance. Who then could have assistedhim? Not Major Montgomerie, for he slept in the after part of thecabin--not Miss Montgomerie, for she was upon deck--moreover, had notone of these, he had so much reason to suspect, interceded for thefellow only on the preceding day.

  Such was the reasoning of Gerald, as he passed rapidly in review theseveral probabilities--but, although annoyed beyond measure at theescape of the villain, and incapable of believing other than that thedaughters of the Governor had connived at it, his was too gallant bynature to make such a charge, even by implication, against them.Although extremely angry, he made no comment whatever on the subject,but contenting himself with wishing his charge a less than usuallycordial good night, left them to their repose, and once more quitted thecabin.

  During the whole of this examination, Miss Montgomerie had continued ondeck. Gerald found her leaning over the gangway at which he had lefther, gazing intently on the water, through which the schooner was nowgliding at an increased rate. From the moment of his being compelled toquit her side to inquire into the cause of Sambo's exclamation andrapidly succeeding fall, he had not had an opportunity of againapproaching her. Feeling that some apology was due, he hastened to makeone; but, vexed and irritated as he was at the escape of the settler,his disappointment imparted to his manner a degree of restraint, andthere was less of ardor in his address than he had latterly been in thehabit of exhibiting. Miss Montgomerie remarked it, and sighed.

  "I have been reflecting," she said, "on the little dependence that is tobe placed upon the most flattering illusions of human existence--andhere are you come to afford me a painful and veritable illustration ofmy theory."

  "How, dearest Matilda! what mean you?" asked the officer, again warmedinto tenderness by the presence of the fascinating being.

  "Can you ask, Gerald?" and her voice assumed a tone of melancholyreproach--"recall but your manner--your language--your devotedness ofsoul not an hour since--compare these with your present coolness, andthen wonder that I should have reason for regret."

  "Now, Matilda, that coldness arose not from any change in my feelingstowards yourself--I was piqued, disappointed, even angry, at theextraordinary escape of my prisoner, and could not sufficiently play thehypocrite to disguise my annoyance."

  "Yet, what had I to do with the man's escape that his offence should bevisited upon me?" she demanded quickly.

  "Can you not find some excuse for my vexation, knowing, as you do, thatthe wretch was a vile assassin--a man whose hands have been imbrued inthe blood of my own father?"

  "Was he not acquitted of the charge?"

  "He was--but only from lack of evidence to convict; yet, althoughacquitted by the law, not surer is fate than that he is an assassin."

  "You hold assassins in great horror," remarked the Americanthoughtfully, "you are right--it is but natural."

  "In horror, said you?--aye, in such loathing that language can supply noterm to express it."

  "And yet you once attempted an assassination yourself. Nay do not start,and look the image of astonishment. Have you not told me that you firedinto the hut, on the night of your mysterious adventure? What right hadyou, if we argue the question on its real merit, to attempt the life ofa being who had never injured you?"

  "What right, Matilda?--every right, human and divine. I sought but tosave a victim from the hands of a midnight murderer."

  "And, to effect this, scrupled not to become a midnight murdereryourself?"

  "And is it thus you interpret my conduct, Matilda?"--the voice of Geraldspoke bitter reproach--"can you compare the act of that man with mine,and hold me no more blameless than him?"

  "Nay, I did not say I blamed you," she returned, gaily, "but the factis, you had left me so long to ruminate here alone, that I have falleninto a mood argumentative, or philosophical--whichsoever you may bepleased to term it--and I am willing to maintain my proposition, thatyou might by possibility have been more guilty than the culprit at whomyou aimed, had your shot destroyed him."

  The light tone in which Matilda spoke dispelled the seriousness whichhad begun to shadow the brow of the young commander. "And pray how doyou make this good?" he asked.

  "Suppose, for instance, the slumberer you preserved had been a being ofcrime, through whom the hopes, the happiness, the peace of mind, andabove al
l, the fair fame of the other, had been cruelly and irrevocablyblasted. Let us imagine that he had destroyed some dear friend orrelative of him with whose vengeance you beheld him threatened."

  "Could that be----"

  "Or," interrupted the American in the same careless tone, "that he hadbetrayed a wife."

  "Such a man----"

  "Or, what is worse, infinitely worse, sought to put the finishing stroketo his villainy, by affixing to the name and conduct of his victimevery ignominy and disgrace which can attach to insulted humanity."

  "Matilda," eagerly exclaimed the youth, advancing close to her, andgazing into her dark eyes, "you are drawing a picture."

  "No, Gerald," she replied calmly, "I am merely supposing a case. Couldyou find no excuse for a man acting under a sense of so muchinjury?--would you still call him an assassin, if, with suchprovocation, he sought to destroy the hated life of one who had thusinjured him?"

  Gerald paused, apparently bewildered.

  "Tell me, dearest Gerald," and her fair and beautiful hand caught andpressed his--"would you still bestow upon one so injured the degradingepithet of assassin?"

  "Assassin? most undoubtedly I would. But why this question, Matilda?"

  The features of the American assumed a changed expression; she droppedthe hand she had taken the instant before, and said, disappointedly:

  "I find, then, my philosophy is totally at fault."

  "Wherein, Matilda?" anxiously asked Gerald.

  "In this, that I have not been able to make you a convert to myopinions."

  "And these are--?" again questioned Gerald, his every pulse throbbingwith intense emotion.

  "Not to pronounce too harshly on the conduct of others, seeing that weourselves may stand in much need of lenity of judgment. There might haveexisted motives for the action of him whom you designate as an assassin,quite as powerful as those which led to _your_ interference, and quiteas easily justified to himself."

  "But, dearest Matilda-----"

  "Nay. I have done--I close at once my argument and my philosophy. Thehumor is past, and I shall no longer attempt to make the worse appearthe better cause. I dare say you thought me in earnest," she added, withslight sarcasm, "but a philosophical disquisition between two lovers onthe eve of parting for ever, was too novel and piquant a seduction to beresisted."

  That "parting for ever" was sufficient to drive all philosophy utterlyaway from our hero.

  "For ever, did you say, Matilda?--no, not for ever; yet, how coldly doyou allude to a separation which, although I trust it will be onlytemporary, is to me a source of the deepest vexation. You did notmanifest this indifference in the early part of our conversation thisevening."

  "And if there be a change," emphatically yet tenderly returned thebeautiful American, "am _I_ the only one changed? Is your manner _now_what it was _then_? Do you already forget at _what_ a moment thatconversation was interrupted?"

  Gerald did not forget; and again, as they leaned over the vessel's side,his arm was passed around the waist of his companion.

  The hour, the scene, the very rippling of the water--all contributedto lend a character of excitement to the feelings of the youth. Filledwith tenderness and admiration for the fascinating being who reposedthus confidingly on his shoulder, he scarcely dared to move, lest in sodoing he should destroy the fabric of his happiness.

  "First watch there, hilloa! rouse up, and be d----d to you, it's twoo'clock."

  Both Gerald and Matilda, although long and silently watching theprogress of the vessel, had forgotten there was any such being as asteersman to direct her.

  "Good Heaven! can it be so late?" whispered the American, gliding fromher lover; "if my uncle be awake, he will certainly chide me for myimprudence. Good night, dear Gerald," and drawing her cloak more closelyaround her shoulders, she quickly crossed the deck, and descended to thecabin.

  "What the devil's this?" said the relieving steersman, as, rubbing hisheavy eyes with one hand, he stooped and raised with the other somethingfrom the deck, against which he had kicked in his advance to take thehelm--"why, I'm blest if it arn't the apron off old Sally here. Have youbeen fingering Sally's apron, Bill?"

  "Not I, faith!" growled the party addressed. "I've enough to do to steerthe craft, without thinking o' meddling with Sall's apron at this timeo' night."

  "I should like to know who it is that has hexposed the old gal to thenight hair in this here manner," still muttered the other, holding upthe object in question to his closer scrutiny; "it was only this morningI gave her a pair of bran new apron strings, and helped to dress hermyself. If she doesn't hang fire after this, I'm a Dutchman--that'sall."

  "What signifies jawing, Tom Fluke? I suppose she got unkivered in thescurry after the Yankee; but bear a hand, and kiver her, unless you wisha fellow to stay here all night."

  Old Sal, our hearers must know, was no other than the long twenty-fourpounder formerly belonging to Gerald's gun-boat, which, now removed tohis new command, lay amid-ships, and mounted on a pivot, constituted thewhole battery of the schooner. The apron was the leaden coveringprotecting the touch-hole, which, having unaccountably fallen off, hadencountered the heavy foot of Tom Fluke, in his advance along the deck.

  The apron was at length replaced. Tom Fluke took the helm, and hiscompanion departed, as he said, to have a comfortable snooze.

  Gerald, who had been an amused listener of the preceding dialogue, soonfollowed, first inquiring into the condition of his faithful Sambo, who,on examination, was found to have been stunned by the violence of theblow he had received. This, Gerald doubted not, had been given with theview of better facilitating Desborough's escape, by throwing theschooner out of her course, and occasioning a consequent confusion amongthe crew, which might have the effect of distracting their attention fora time from himself.