The pilot a tale of the sea |
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| 16. | CHAPTER XVI. |
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 | CHAPTER XVI. The pilot |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
Put forth the dogs, and let the falcon fly—
I'll spend some leisure in the keen pursuit,
Nor longer waste my hours in sluggish quiet.”
The soldier passed the remainder of the night
in the heavy sleep of a bacchanalian, and awoke
late on the following morning, only when aroused
by the entrance of his servant. When the customary
summons had induced the captain to unclose
his eye-lids, he arose in his bed, and after
performing the usual operation of a diligent friction
on his organs of vision, he turned sternly to
his man, and remarked, with an ill-humour that
seemed to implicate the innocent servant in the
fault which his master condemned—
“I thought, sirrah, that I ordered Sergeant
Drill not to let a drum-stick touch a sheep-skin
while we quartered in the dwelling of this hospitable
old colonel! Does the fellow despise my
commands; or does he think the roll of a drum,
echoing through the crooked passages of St. Ruth,
a melody that is fit to disturb the slumbers of its
inmates!”
“I believe, sir,” returned the man, “it was
the wish of Colonel Howard himself, that on this
by the roll of the drum.”
“The devil it was! I see the old fellow loves
to tickle the drum of his own ear now and then,
with familiar sounds; but have you had a muster
of the cattle from the farm-yard too, as well as a
parade of the guard? I hear the trampling of
feet, as if the old abbey were a second ark, and
all the beasts of the field were coming aboard
of us!”
“'Tis nothing but the party of dragoons from
—, who are wheeling into the court-yard, sir,
where the colonel has gone out to receive them.”
“Court-yard! light dragoons!” repeated Borroughcliffe,
in amazement; “and has it come to
this, that twenty stout fellows of the—th are not
enough to guard such a rookery as this old abbey,
against the ghosts and north-east storms, but we
must have horse to reinforce us. Hum! I suppose
some of these booted gentlemen have heard
of this South-Carolina Madeira.”
“Oh, no, Sir!” cried his man, “it is only
the party that Mr. Dillon went to seek last evening,
after you saw fit, sir, to put the three pirates
in irons.”
“Pirates in irons!” said Borroughcliffe, again
passing his hands over his eyes, though in a more
reflecting manner than before; “ha! oh! I remember
to have put three suspicious looking rascals
in the black-hole, or some such place; but
what can Mr. Dillon, or the light dragoons, have
to do with these fellows?”
“That we do not know, sir; but it is said below,
sir, as some suspicions had fallen on their
being conspirators and rebels from the colonies,
and that they were great officers and tories in disguise;
some said that one was General Washington,
and others, that it was only three members
good old English fashions, to set themselves up
with.”
“Washington! Members of Congress! Go—
go, simpleton, and learn how many these troopers
muster, and what halt they make; but stay,
place my clothes near me. Now, do as I bid
you; and if the dragoon officer inquire for me,
make my respects, and tell him I shall be with
him soon. Go, fellow; go.”
When the man left the room, the captain, while
he proceeded with the business of the toilet, occasionally
gave utterance to the thoughts that
crowded on his recollection, after the manner of
a soliloquy.
“Ay! my commission to a half-pay ensigncy,
that some of these lazy fellows, who must have a
four-legged beast to carry them to the wars, have
heard of the `south side.' South side! I believe I
must put an advertisement in the London Gazette,
calling that amphibious soldier to an account.
If he be a true man, he will not hide himself under
his incognito, but will give me a meeting.
If that should fail, damme, I'll ride across to
Yarmouth, and call out the first of the mongrel
breed that I fall in with. 'Sdeath! was ever such
an insult practised on a gentleman, and a soldier,
before! Would that I only knew his name!
Why, if the tale should get abroad, I shall be the
standing joke of the mess-table, until some greater
fool than myself can be found. It would cost
me at least six duels to get rid of it. No, no;
not a trigger will I pull in my own regiment
about the silly affair; but I'll have a crack at
some marine in very revenge; for that is no more
than reasonable. That Peters! if the scoundrel
should dare whisper any thing of the manner in
which he was stamped with the breech of the
make it up to him, the first time he gives me a
chance, I am ignorant of the true art of balancing
regimental accounts.”
By the time the recruiting officer had concluded
this soliloquy, which affords a very fair exposition
of the current of his thoughts, he was prepared
to meet the new comers, and he accordingly
descended to the court-yard, as in duty bound, to
receive them in his proper person. Borroughcliffe
encountered his host, in earnest conversation
with a young man in a cavalry uniform, in
the principal entrance of the abbey, and was
greeted by the former with—
“A good morning to you, my worthy guard
and protector! here is rare news for your loyal
ears. It seems that our prisoners are enemies to
the king in disguise; and Cornet Fitzgerald—
Captain Borroughcliffe, of the —th, permit
me to make you acquainted with Mr. Fitzgerald,
of the —th Light Dragoons.” While the soldiers
exchanged their salutations, the old man
continued—“The cornet has been kind enough
to lead down a detachment of his troop, to escort
the rogues up to London, or some other place,
where they will find enough good and loyal officers
to form a court martial, that can authorize
their execution as spies. Christopher Dillon,
my worthy kinsman, Kit, saw into their real
characters, at a glance, while you and I, like
two unsuspecting boys, thought the rascals would
have made fit men to serve the king. But Kit
has an eye and a head that few enjoy like him,
and I would that he might receive his dues at the
English bar.”
“It is to be desired, sir,” said Borroughcliffe,
with a grave aspect, that was produced chiefly by
his effort to give effect to his sarcasm, but a little,
were yet to be explained; “but what reason has
Mr. Christopher Dillon to believe that the three
seamen are more or less than they seem?”
“I know not what; but a good and sufficient
reason, I will venture my life,” cried the colonel;
“Kit is a lad for reasons, which you know is the
foundation of his profession, and knows how to
deliver them manfully in the proper place; but
you know, gentlemen, that the members of the
bar cannot assume the open and bold front that
becomes a soldier, without often endangering the
cause in which they are concerned. No, no,
trust me, Kit has his reasons, and in good time
will he deliver them.”
“I hope, then,” said the captain, carelessly,
“that it may be found that we have had a proper
watch on our charge, Colonel Howard; I
think you told me the windows were too high for
an escape in that direction, for I had no sentinel
outside of the building.”
“Fear nothing, my worthy friend,” cried his
host; “unless your men have slept, instead of
watching, we have them safe; but, as it will be
necessary to convey them away before any of the
civil authority can lay hands on them, let us proceed
to the rear, and unkennel the dogs. A party of
the horse might proceed with them to—, while
we are breaking our fasts. It would be no wise
thing to let the civilians deal with them, for they
seldom have a true idea of the nature of the
crime.”
“Pardon me, sir,” said the young officer of
horse; “I was led to believe, by Mr. Dillon, that
we might meet with a party of the enemy in some
little force, and that I should find a pleasanter
duty than that of a constable; besides, sir, the
laws of the realm guaranty to the subject a trial
carry the men to the barracks, without first
taking them before a magistrate.”
“Ay! you speak of loyal and dutiful subjects,”
said the colonel; “and, as respects them,
doubtless, you are right; but such privileges are
withheld from enemies and traitors.”
“It must be first proved that they are such,
before they can receive the treatment or the punishment
that they merit,” returned the young
man, a little positively, who felt the more confidence,
because he had only left the Temple the
year before. “If I take charge of the men at
all, it will be only to transfer them safely to the
civil authority.”
“Let us go, and see the prisoners,” cried Borroughcliffe,
with a view to terminate a discussion
that was likely to wax warm, and which he knew
to be useless; “perhaps they may quietly enrol
themselves under the banners of our sovereign,
when all other interference, save that of wholesome
discipline, will become unnecessary.”
“Nay, if they are of a rank in life to render
such a step probable,” returned the cornet,
“I am well content that the matter should be
thus settled. I trust, however, that Captain
Borroughcliffe will consider that the —th
light dragoons has some merit in this affair, and
that we are far short of our numbers in the second
squadron.”
“We shall not be difficult at a compromise,”
returned the captain; “there is one a piece for
us, and a toss of a guinea shall determine who
has the third man. Sergeant! follow, to deliver
over your prisoners, and relieve your sentry.”
As they proceeded, in compliance with this arrangement,
to the building in the rear, Colonel
Howard, who made one of the party, observed—
“I dispute not the penetration of Captain
Borroughcliffe, but I understand Mr. Christopher
Dillon that there is reason to believe one of these
men, at least, to be of a class altogether above
that of a common soldier, in which case your
plans may fall to the ground.”
“And who does he deem the gentleman to be?”
asked Borroughcliffe—“A Bourbon in disguise,
or a secret representative of the rebel congress?”
“Nay, nay; he said nothing more; my kinsman
Kit keeps a close mouth, whenever Dame
Justice is about to balance her scales. There are
men who may be said to have been born to be
soldiers; of which number I should call the Earl
Cornwallis, who makes such head against the
rebels in the two Carolinas; others seem to be intended
by nature for divines, and saints on earth,
such as their Graces of York and Canterbury;
while another class appear as if it were impossible
for them to behold things, unless with discriminating,
impartial, and disinterested eyes; to
which, I should say, belong my Lord Chief Justice
Mansfield, and my kinsman, Mr. Christopher
Dillon. I trust, gentlemen, that when the royal
arms have crushed this rebellion, that his majesty's
ministers will see the propriety of extending the
dignity of the peerage to the colonies, as a means
of reward to the loyal, and a measure of policy,
to prevent future disaffection; in which case, I
hope to see my kinsman decorated with the ermine
of justice, bordering the mantle of a peer.”
“Your expectations, my excellent sir, are
right reasonable, as I doubt not your kinsman
will become, at some future day, that which he is
not at present, unhappily for his deserts, right
honourable,” said Borroughcliffe. “But be of
good heart, sir, from what I have seen of his
merits, I doubt not that the law will yet have its
edified and instructed how to attain elevation
in life, by the future exaltation of Mr. Christopher
Dillon; though by what title he is to be then
known, I am at a loss to say.”
Colonel Howard was too much occupied with
his own ex parte views of the war and things in
general, to observe the shrewd looks that were
exchanged between the soldiers; but he answered
with perfect simplicity—
“I have reflected much on that point; and have
come to the opinion, that as he has a small estate
on that river, he should cause his first barony to
be known by the title of `Pedee.”'
“Barony!” echoed Borroughcliffe; “I trust the
new nobles of a new world will disdain the old
worn out distinctions of a hackneyed universe—
eschew all baronies, mine host, and cast earldoms
and dukedoms to the shades. The immortal
Locke has unlocked his fertile mind to furnish
you with appellations suited to the originality of
your condition, and the nature of your country.
Ah! here comes the Cacique of Pedee, in his
proper person!”
As Borroughcliffe spoke, they were ascending
the flight of stone steps which led to the upper
apartments, where the prisoners were still supposed
to be confined; and, at the same moment,
the sullen, gloomy features of Dillon were seen
as he advanced along the lower passage, with an
expression of malicious exultation hovering above
his dark brow, that denoted his secret satisfaction.
As the hours had passed away, the period
had come round when the man who had been present
at the escape of Griffith and his friends, was
again posted to perform the duty of sentinel. As
this soldier well knew the situation of his trust,
he was very coolly adjusted, with his back against
his disturbed slumbers during the night, when the
sounds of the approaching footsteps warned him
to assume the appearance of watchfulness.
“How now, fellow!” cried Borroughcliffe;
“what have you to say of your charge?”
“I believe the men sleep, your honour; for I
have heard no noises from the rooms since I relieved
the last sentinel.”
“The lads are weary, and are right to catch
what sleep they can in their comfortable quarters,”
returned the captain. “Stand to your arms,
sirrah! and throw back your shoulders; and do
not move like a crab, or a train-band corporal;
do you not see an officer of horse coming up?
Would you disgrace your regiment!”
“Ah! your honour, Heaven only knows whether
I shall ever get my shoulders even again.”
“Buy another plaster,” said Borroughcliffe,
slipping a shilling into his hand; “observe, you
know nothing but your duty.”
“Which is, your honour—”
“To mind me and be silent. But here comes
the sergeant with his guard, he will relieve you.”
The rest of the party had stopped at the other
end of the gallery, to allow the few files of soldiers,
who were led by the orderly, to pass them,
when they all moved toward the prisons in a
body. The sentinel was relieved in due military
style; when Dillon placed his hand on one of the
doors, and said, with a malicious sneer,
“Open here first, Mr. Sergeant; this cage holds
the man we most want.”
“Softly, softly, my Lord Chief Justice, and
most puissant Cacique,” said the captain; “the
hour has not yet come to empannel a jury of fat
yeomen, and no man must interfere with my boys
but myself.”
“The rebuke is harsh, I must observe, Captain
Borroughcliffe,” said the colonel; “but I
pardon it because it is military. No, no, Kit;
these nice points must be left to martial usages.
Be not impatient, my cousin; I doubt not the hour
will come, when you shall hold the scales of justice,
and satisfy your loyal longings on many a
traitor. Zounds! I could almost turn executioner
myself in such a cause!”
“I can curb my impatience, sir,” returned Dillon,
with hypocritical meekness, and great self-command,
though his eyes were gleaming with savage
exultation. “I beg pardon of Captain Borroughcliffe,
if, in my desire to render the civil authority
superior to the military, I have trespassed on
your customs.”
“You see, Borroughcliffe!” exclaimed the colonel,
exultingly, “the lad is ruled by an instinct
in all matters of law and justice. I hold it to be
impossible that a man thus endowed can ever become
a disloyal subject. But our breakfast
waits, and Mr. Fitzgerald has breathed his horse
this cool morning; let us proceed to the examination.”
Borroughcliffe motioned to the sergeant to
open the door, when the whole party entered the
vacant room.
“Your prisoner has escaped!” cried the cornet,
after a single moment employed in making sure
of the fact.
“Never! it must not, shall not be,” cried Dillon,
quivering with rage, as he glanced his eyes
furiously around the apartment; “here has been
treachery! and foul treason to the king!”
“By whom committed, Mr. Christopher Dillon?”
said Borroughcliffe, knitting his brow,
and speaking in a suppressed tone; “dare you,
or any man living, charge treason to the—th?”
A very different feeling from rage appeared
now to increase the shivering propensities of the
future judge, who at once perceived it was necessary
to moderate his passion, and he returned, as
it were by magic, to his former plausible and insinuating
manner, as he replied—
“Colonel Howard will understand the cause of
my warm feelings, when I tell him, that this very
room contained, last night, that disgrace to his
name and country, as well as traitor to his king,
Edward Griffith, of the rebel navy.”
“What!” exclaimed the colonel, starting,
“has that recreant youth dared to pollute the
threshold of St. Ruth with his footstep! but you
dream, Kit; there would be too much hardihood
in the act.”
“It appears not, sir,” returned the other; “for
though in this very apartment he most certainly
was, he is here no longer. And yet from this
window, though open, escape would seem to be
impossible, even with much assistance.”
“If I thought that the contumelious boy had
dared to be guilty of such an act of gross impudence,”
cried the colonel, “I should be tempted
to resume my arms, in my old age, to punish his
effrontery. What! it is not enough that he entered
my dwelling in the colony, availing himself
of the distraction of the times, with an intent to
rob me of my choicest jewel, ay! gentlemen,
even of my brother Harry's daughter—but that
he must also invade this hallowed island, with a
like purpose, thus thrusting his treason, as it
were, into the presence of his abused prince!
No, no, Kit, thy loyalty misleads thee; he has
never dared to do the deed!”
“Listen, sir, and you shall be convinced,” returned
the pliant Christopher. “I do not wonder
at your unbelief; but as good testimony is the
know, that two vessels, corresponding in appearance
to the two rebel cruisers that annoyed us so
much in the Carolinas, have been seen on the
coast for several days, which induced us to beg
the protection of Captain Borroughcliffe. Three
men are found, the day succeeding that on which
we hear that these vessels came within the shoals,
stealing through the grounds of St. Ruth, in
sailors' attire. They are arrested, and in the
voice of one of them, sir, I immediately detected
that of the traitor Griffith. He was disguised, it
is true, and cunningly so; but when a man has
devoted his whole life to the business of investigating
truth,” he added, with an air of much modesty,
“it is difficult to palm any disguise on his
senses.”
Colonel Howard was strongly impressed with
the probability of these conjectures, and the
closing appeal confirmed him immediately in his
kinsman's opinion, while Borroughcliffe listened,
with deep interest, to the speakers, and more
than once bit his lip with vexation. When Dillon
concluded, the soldier exclaimed—
“I'll swear there was a man among them, who
has been used to the drill.”
“Nothing more probable, my worthy friend,”
said Dillon; “for as the landing was never made
without some evil purpose, rely on it, he came
not unguarded or unprotected. I dare say, the
three were all officers, and one of them might
have been of the marines. That they had assistance
is certain, and it was because I felt assured
they had a force secreted at hand, that I went
in quest of the reinforcement.”
There was so much plausibility, and, in fact, so
much truth, in all this, that conviction was unwillingly
admitted by Borroughcliffe, who walked
in spite of his ordinary inflexibility of countenance,
he felt was manifesting itself in his rubric
visage, while he muttered—
“The amphibious dog! he was a soldier, but
a traitor and an enemy. No doubt he will have
a marvellous satisfaction in delighting the rebellious
ears of his messmates, by rehearsing the manner
in which he poured cold water down the back
of one Borrouglicliffe, of the —th, who was
amusing him, at the same time, by pouring good,
rich south-side Madeira down his own rebellious
throat. I have a good mind to exchange my
scarlet coat for a blue jacket, on purpose to meet
the sly rascal on the other element, where we can
discuss this matter over again. Well, sergeant,
do you find the other two?”
“They are gone together, your honour,” returned
the orderly, who just then re-entered from
an examination of the other apartments; “and
unless the evil one helped them off, it's a mysterious
business to me.”
“Colonel Howard,” said Borroughcliffe, gravely,
“your precious south-side cordial must be
banished from the board, regularly with the cloth,
until I have my revenge; for satisfaction of this
insult is mine to claim, and I seek it this instant.
Go, Drill; detail a guard for the protection of the
house, and feed the rest of your command, then
beat the general, and we will take the field. Ay!
my worthy veteran host, for the first time since
the days of the unlucky Charles Stuart, there
shall be a campaign in the heart of England.”
“Ah! rebellion, rebellion! accursed, unnatural,
unholy rebellion, caused the calamity then and
now!” exclaimed the colonel.
“Had I not better take a hasty refreshment for
my men and their horses?” asked the cornet;
the coast? It may be my luck to encounter the
fugitives, or some part of their force.”
“You have anticipated my very thoughts,” returned
Borroughcliffe. “The Cacique of Pedee
may close the gates of St. Ruth, and, by barring
the windows, and arming the servants, he can
make a very good defence against an attack,
should they think proper to assail our fortress;
after he has repulsed them, leave it to me to cut
off their retreat.”
Dillon but little relished this proposal; for he
thought an attempt to storm the abbey would be
the most probable course adopted by Griffith, in
order to rescue his mistress; and the jurist had
none of the spirit of a soldier in his composition.
In truth, it was this deficiency that had induced
him to depart in person, the preceding night, in
quest of the reinforcement, instead of sending an
express on the errand. But the necessity of devising
an excuse for a change in this dangerous
arrangement, was obviated by Colonel Howard,
who exclaimed, as soon as Borroughcliffe concluded
his plan—
“To me, Captain Borroughcliffe, belongs of
right, the duty of defending St. Ruth, and it
shall be no boy's play to force my works; but
Kit would rather try his chance in the open field,
I know. Come, let us to our breakfast, and then
he shall mount, and act as guide to the horse,
along the difficult passes of the seashore.”
“To breakfast then let it be,” cried the captain;
“I distrust not my new commander of the
fortress; and in the field the Cacique for ever!
We follow you, my worthy host.”
This arrangement was hastily executed in all
its parts. The gentlemen swallowed their meal
in the manner of men who ate only to sustain nature,
became a scene of bustling activity. The troops
were mustered and paraded; Borroughcliffe,
setting apart a guard for the building, placed
himself at the head of the remainder of his little
party, and they moved out of the court-yard in
open order, and at quick time. Dillon joyfully
beheld himself mounted on one of the best of
Colonel Howard's hunters, where he knew that
he had the control, in a great measure, of his own
destiny; his bosom throbbing with a powerful desire
to destroy Griffith, while he entertained a
lively wish to effect his object without incurring any
personal risk. At his side was the young cornet,
seated with practised grace in his saddle, who,
after giving time for the party of foot soldiers to
clear the premises, glanced his eye along the few
files he led, and then gave the word to move.
The little division of horse wheeled briskly into
open column, and the officer, touching his cap to
Colonel Howard, they dashed through the gateway
together, and pursued their route towards
the seaside, at a hand gallop.
The veteran lingered a few minutes, while the
clattering of hoofs was to be heard, or the
gleam of arms was visible, to hear and gaze at
sounds and sights that he still loved; after which,
he proceeded, in person, and not without a secret
enjoyment of the excitement, to barricado the
doors and windows, with an undaunted determination
of making, in case of need, a stout defence.
St. Ruth lay but a short two miles from the
ocean; to which numerous roads led, through the
grounds of the abbey, which extended to the
shore. Along one of these paths, Dillon conducted
his party, until, after a few minutes of hard
riding, they approached the cliffs, when, posting
cornet rode in advance, with his guide, to the
verge of the perpendicular rocks, whose bases
were washed by the foam that was still capped in
white sheets from the surges of the subsiding sea.
The gale had broken, before the escape of the
prisoners, and as the power of the eastern tempest
had gradually diminished, a light current
from the south, that blew directly along the land,
prevailed; and, though the ocean still rolled
in fearful billows, their surfaces were smooth, and
they were becoming, at each moment, less precipitous,
and more regular. The eyes of the horse-men
were cast in vain over the immense expanse
of water, that was glistening brightly under the
rays of the sun, which had just risen from its bosom,
in quest of some object or distant sail, that
might confirm their suspicions, or relieve their
doubts. But every thing of that description appeared
to have avoided the dangerous navigation,
during the violence of the late tempest, and Dillon
was withdrawing his eyes in disappointment,
from the vacant view, when, as they fell towards
the shore, he beheld that which caused him to exclaim—
“There they go! and, by Heaven, they will
escape!”
The cornet looked in the direction of the
other's finger, when he beheld, at a short distance
from the land, and apparently immediately under
his feet, a little boat, that looked like a dark
shell upon the water, rising and sinking amid
the waves, as if the men it obviously contained,
were resting on their oars in idle expectation.
“'Tis they!” continued Dillon; “or, what is
more probable, it is their boat waiting to convey
them to their vessel; no common business would
within such a narrow distance of the surf.”
“And what is to be done? They cannot be
made to feel horse where they are; nor would the
muskets of the foot touch them. A light three
pounder would do its work handsomely on
them!”
The strong desire which Dillon entertained to
intercept, or rather to destroy the party, rendered
him prompt at expedients. After a moment
of musing, he replied—
“The runaways must yet be on the land; and
by scouring the coast, and posting men at proper
places, their retreat can easily be prevented; in
the mean time I will ride under the spur to—
bay, where one of his majesty's cutters now lies
at anchor—It is but half an hour of hard riding,
and I can be on board of her. The wind blows
directly in her favour, and if we can once bring
her down behind that headland, we shall infallibly
cut off or sink these midnight depredators.”
“Off, then!” cried the cornet, whose young
blood was boiling for a skirmish; “you will at
least drive them to the shore, where I can deal
with them.”
The words were hardly uttered, before Dillon
was out of sight, after galloping furiously along
the cliffs, and turning short into a thick wood,
that lay in his route. The loyalty of this gentleman
was altogether of a calculating nature, and
was intimately connected with what he considered
his fealty to himself. He believed that the possession
of Miss Howard's person and fortune
were advantages that would much more than
counterbalance any elevation that he was likely
to obtain by the revolution of affairs in his native
colony. He considered Griffith as the only natural
obstacle to his success, and he urged his
work the ruin of the young sailor, before another
sun had set. When a man labours in an evil
cause, with such feelings, and with such incentives,
he seldom slights or neglects his work; and
Mr. Dillon, accordingly, was on board the Alacrity,
several minutes short of the time in which
he had promised to perform the distance.
The plain old seaman, who commanded the
cutter, listened to his tale with cautious ears;
and examined into the state of the weather, and
other matters, connected with his duty, with
the slow and deliberative decision of one who
had never done much to acquire a confidence in
himself, and who had been but niggardly rewarded
for the little he had actually performed.
As Dillon was urgent, however, and the day
seemed propitious, he at length decided to act as
he was desired, and the cutter was accordingly
gotten under way.
A crew of something less than fifty men,
moved with no little of their commander's deliberation;
but as the little vessel rounded the
point behind which she had been anchored, her
guns were cleared, and the usual preparations
were completed for immediate and actual service.
Dillon, sorely against his will, was compelled
to continue on board, in order to point out the
place where the unsuspecting boatmen were expected
to be entrapped. Every thing being
ready, when they had gained a safe distance
from the land, the Alacrity was kept away before
the wind, and glided along the shore, with
a swift and easy progress, that promised a
speedy execution of the business in which her
commander had embarked.
| CHAPTER XVI. The pilot | |