University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.

The morning gun boomed over the waters of the
inner harbor from Castle Island to the town of Boston,
as a signal that the day was fast advancing, and
the eastern sky began to put off its dull gray robes
for the more splendid saffron; the large sea-birds
were rowing through the chill atmosphere, and here
and there dipping into the waves for fish, and then
mounting again on their wide-expanded wings, and
wheeling far away in the blue depths of ether, or
losing themselves against the snow-banks of the
skies.

From the deck of the Dolphin, as she rocked gracefully

on the billows, could be seen in the distance and
yet be scarcely seen, the Cape now called after Ann,
and nearly the whole line of shore stretching up
through Marblehead and Salem, growing darker and
wider as it neared the eye, till it terminated in a mass
of forest land, opening in little vistas, through which
the abodes of man were discovered. Upon the face
of the waters all around, might be seen a dozen or
more little specks, which on a nearer view were discovered
to be fishing-boats, that went out at the early
dawn for cod and haddock, and were sometimes rewarded
for their industry by a huge halibut, which
might serve a whole ward of inhabitants.

The clouds now changed their aspect, and wore
the rich livery of purple and gold, with which they
welcomed the sun now slowly wheeling upward
from the ocean, and the waves that had subsided into
comparative calmness, sparkled in the bright day-beams
and danced as if conscious of the all-pervading
life and freshness of nature.

To those who looked down the harbor outside of
the islands, the tall spars of the Dolphin, as she lay
a little off the shore, were lightly traced against the
bright back-ground of the picture that shone through
her masts and rigging, while her black hull looked
like a part of the neighboring rocks against which
the rising and receding waters lapsed peacefully, and
seemed in the distance like a snow-wreath on the
shady side of a mountain.

The wind was blowing gently from the west, and
Fitzvassal, already on the deck of the Dolphin, was
examining, with the critical eye of a sailor, the condition
of his spars and rigging, and devising the best
means of safely disposing of Grace Wilmer and
Seymour, when he observed a vessel coming through
Shirley-gut, that immediately arrested his attention.

At that moment a man aloft cried out, “sail ho!—
the Revenue Cutter!” and if our adventurer had before
doubted what it was, those doubts were now removed,
as merging from the narrow channel she came
down the outer harbor, wing and wing, bearing directly
for Nahant.

“Pipe all hands to heave anchors and make sail!”
said the commander to the young man who had succeeded
Felton in his office of lieutenant.

The officer conveyed the order to the boatswain,
whose shrill whistle rang through every part of the
vessel, and was reverberated from the neighboring
rocks: and in half a minute, all hands were on deck
heaving away at the windlass, and loosing the canvass
from the yards and boombs.

In a few minutes the ponderous anchors were on
board, and every thing cleared for making sail. The
mainsail was now raised, and as the wind took it,
swinging the heavy boomb over the gunwale, the Dolphin
came round to her course and began to move
through the water. The jib now went flying full of
wind, and the other necessary sails being set, she

put out to sea under the immediate command of the
pilot.

“This is what I have been long expecting,” said
Fitzvassal to Jake Morgan, as the latter placed himself
at the helm, on resuming again his office. “Sir
Edmund has somehow got wind of us, and has sent
the Cutter to look into our affairs.”

“She will have to outfly yonder gull, then,” replied
Morgan, “for we have the wind fresher than it
is above, and good three miles the start; howsom-ever,
seeing 's knowing, and the devil can only
tell what may happen in the fish-pond of his country-seat.”

Fitzvassal cast his eyes over the side of the schooner,
to see if there were any obstacle in their way,
when he perceived the boat of Morgan dragging at
the stern. This he ordered to be hoisted aboard without
delay, and now there was not even a rope's end
to stay the course by a ripple.

The Dolphin was standing right out to sea a few
points from the east, and the Cutter now bore dead east
to head her in, carrying every stitch of canvas she
could crowd.

“I should like to run out at least twenty miles,
Morgan,” said Fitzvassal, “before we fall in with that
vessel. We could easily have blown her out of water
without leaving the harbor, but I have other designs
upon her.”

“We can easily do that, sir,” replied the pilot;

“for since we hoisted the flying-jib, she has not
gained on us an inch, or my eye deceives me mightily;—we
could run her hull-down in three hours, with
studdin'-sails all set, I know.”

“I don't care about running away from her so far
as that comes to,” said the commander, “and yet when
I consider that I have a lady on board, it would perhaps
be as well to avoid an encounter. How many
fathoms have we now?”

“From six to eight,” replied the pilot; “not short
of six, howsomever.”

“Keep right a-head, Morgan, and show her as
much of your stern as you can,” enjoined Fitzvassal,—“and
by all means don't let her gain on you
an atom: call me, if she does, or if she varies her
course any: we must keep a sharp look out, for we
have a deeper game than the mere act of running
away.”

So saying he descended into the cabin, where a
little mulatto girl, about twelve years of age, was assisting
the steward in preparing the table for breakfast.

“Have you seen the lady this morning, Celia?” inquired
the commander, who had been extremely solicitous
for the comfort of his guest, and had directed
the girl, who was a slave, to take particular care that
her every want should be provided.

“Yes sir,” replied the girl; “Miss is right well,
she is, to-day.”

“Will she come to breakfast, Celia?”

“Miss says,” answered the girl, “she'll have her
breakfast sent to her, if you please, she will.”

“Let her be obeyed in every thing—do you hear,
Celia?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Celia; and continued busying
herself at the breakfast-table.

“Massa Seymour,” said the steward, who was a
negro and a slave, for in days of yore, slaves were
as common in New England as they are in Maryland,
and would be now, if self-interest had not
changed a system which that section of the country
had outgrown—“Massa Seymour very ill to-day—
he take bad cold yesterday in de water.”

“I am sorry to hear that, Cato,” replied his master;
“we shall not see him then to-day, hey?”

“I'se feared not to-day, sir: he'll hab de gruel for
his breakfast, he tinks.”

Fitzvassal went to the state-room door, and was
about to knock, when he hesitated, and turned to the
steward.

“Cato,” said he, “ask Mr. Seymour if he is well
enough to see me for a moment: I should like to
speak a word or two with him.”

The steward bowed and disappeared; but he presently
returned with a message that,

“Massa Seymour say he be happy to see Captain
Nix. I guess he no see de old Captain in a hurry;
but Cato no say nossing—he know a trick worth two
o'dat, he does.”

And his white teeth shone between his black lips
like ermine on the sea-otter, and he chuckled with a
suppressed familiarity which plainly indicated on
what good terms he stood with his master.

It now for the first time occurred to Fitzvassal, that
it was all-important, for the success of his schemes, and
even for the furtherance of the colonial liberties, that
he should pass on board his own vessel for Captain
Nix, so long, at least, as his present guests remained
on board. Orders were accordingly given throughout
the vessel, for this requirement to be enforced
under severe penalties, an order very easily accomplished,
as the word “Captain” was that which was
generally used to address the commander, and to
speak of him: but nevertheless, the precaution above
mentioned was deemed by him expedient, in case of
any accident which might render it necessary to use
his surname. And now it is proper that we should
revert to that part of the narrative which is necessary
to fill the hiatus we have left, and to explain the
reason why Fitzvassal had been compelled to assume
a name which did not belong to him.

We have already informed the reader of the mutinous
disposition of the crew, when lying off Port
de la Plata; how they refused to load the vessel with
the bags of gold, and the wedges of silver which the
persevering energy of Captain Phips had rescued
from the sea; and how they had been brought to
terms by the address of young Fitzvassal, who was

then second officer under that enterprising leader.
We shall now proceed to relate the sequel of that expedition,
and the succeeding one for the recovery of
the buried treasure.

Cheered by the encouragement of Fitzvassal, the
crew of the Dolphin, then belonging to the Duke of
Albemarle, and commanded by William Phips, returned
to their duties with alacrity, and as we have
mentioned, brought the treasure safely to England;
but when the vessel had discharged the precious cargo,
and Captain Phips having been knighted, had relinquished
the command of the schooner, the noble
Duke turned a deaf ear to the demands of the sailors,
who modestly urged the promises of their officers,
though the chief of them, Mr. Nix, as first-mate, had
from the beginning refused to co-operate in assisting
them towards any extra remuneration. For he declared,
and with reason, that they had all shipped
as for any other voyage, without any reference to
shares, and that the very act of disobedience of which
they had been guilty, was of itself sufficient to exclude
them from any gratuity.

Fitzvassal, as second-officer, was more among the
men, and it was by using all the influence he could
exert, that he kept them in order while in the London
docks, begging them to abide by what he
promised as certain to be fulfilled, and giving them
such reasons for submission, as were to them perfectly
satisfactory.

Notwithstanding the value of the freight brought
to the Duke of Albemarle, that nobleman was far
from being satisfied. Sir William Phips, on giving
up the command of the vessel, and retiring contented
with the share that had been allotted to him, assured
the Duke that not more than one half of the buried
treasure had been recovered; it is not wonderful,
therefore, that he determined to dispatch the same
vessel again in the confident expectation of recovering
what remained.

Accordingly the Dolphin was fitted for sailing with
all expedition; for the Duke could not control his
apprehensions that some one would step in between
him and his prize, and deprive him of what he now
claimed as his own, by the right of prior discovery.
As the captain's place was vacant, Mr. Nix was
promoted to that office, and Fitzvassal elevated to the
post of first-officer. Felton, who had had great experience,
was taken from the forecastle and supplied
the place of the second.

Before leaving London, Captain Nix, who was an
independant in his principles, and opposed with uncompromising
hostility the reigning monarch, and
with equal zeal favored the intentions of the Stadtholder,
was made the special agent to bear dispatches
from some distinguished persons, among others, Sir
William Temple, who, though they made a show of
loyalty to James, were in secret correspondence all
the time with the Prince of Orange. We have already

alluded to some of these papers in a former part
of the narrative.

It was probably owing to the perfect understanding
which subsisted between the first-officer, and the
crew of the Dolphin, that the latter did not manifest
the slightest symptoms of insubordination, either on
their way to Porte de la Plata, or while they were
there occupied in loading with the precious metals.
Nor were they able to exhaust the heaps of gold and
silver which they found; but after loading the schooner
as deeply as they dared, they were still under the
necessity of leaving enough for another expedition,
or to serve as the rich gleanings for some other fortunate
adventurer.

They were now on their homeward voyage, only
twelve hours sail from the shores of Hispaniola,
when, as the morning watch was called, Fitzvassal
gave the signal of rising, by discharging a horse-pistol.
Immediately all hands were on deck, and
the captain, with six men who had been recently
shipped at London, and could not be expected to
enter into the feelings of the rest of the crew, were
seized and put in irons. It was useless for so few to
make any resistance to fifty men, whose plan had
been so well digested and matured.

As soon as this was done, and the prisoners were
made safe under hatches, the men assembled on the
quarter-deck, and unanimously elected Fitzvassal to
be their captain, and Felton to be their lieutenant;

and they each and all took a good round oath, which
is not to be found in any statute-book, that they would
yield implicit obedience to their officers, and obey
them to the very sacrificing of their lives, in the performance
of duty.

Our adventurer, of course, accepted with many
thanks, a station which he had taken so much pains
to secure for himself, and the first movement which
he made to retain the favor in which he was held,
was to measure out to each man his equal share of
the whole cargo, having first set apart a tenth for
himself, and a twentieth for Felton: his own share
being worth more than a hundred and fifty thousand
dollars of our present currency.

Early the next morning, the yawl was got in readiness,
and being well provided with every thing necessary
for their support, the deposed Captain Nix was
placed on board with the six sailors, their shackles having
been first knocked off, and the boat cast off and
abandoned to the mercy of the wide sea and the
winds.

After committing this act of piracy, our adventurer
held the same course till the yawl was out of sight,
and then he tacked for a direction nearly opposite.
His intention now was, to run into Massachusetts
Bay, and offer to every man the privilege of taking
his money and departing. After a pleasant voyage,
he hauled up at Barnstable, where seven of his crew
availed themselves of the privilege of quitting the

Dolphin, and after having buried the principal part of
their gold in the sands, bent their way into the interior
and distributed themselves in different parts of
the country.

The Dolphin now ran up the Bay, entered Boston
harbor, and running round to Mount Wallaston anchored
there off-shore, as we have already had occasion
to mention.

It must therefore be admitted, as the reader will
have already believed, that the schooner which now
extended its hospitality to the beautiful but unfortunate
Grace Wilmer, and her still more unfortunate
lover, was a pirate and a buccaneer. It is true they
were ignorant of these facts, and it must be also remembered,
that no blood had as yet polluted her
scuppers; but crime is under the guardianship of
fiends, and when once an act of dishonesty and
shame has been deliberately committed, the will having
been turned to evil, is difficult to be reclaimed,
and the first step is but too soon remembered as only
a degree in the progression of iniquity. A false step
can never be blotted out forever. It is not in the
power of heaven to obliterate an evil action.

Such had been the career of Fitzvassal, previous
to the time we are now chronicling, and the remembrance
of the one crime which he could not wash
away, stung him sometimes almost to madness. Particularly
was the recollection of it annoying to him
now, when he no longer felt the pangs of remorseless

poverty, but was on the eve of bringing himself
before the eye of the world as a patriot, and a leader
among the martyrs to liberty. How gladly would he
have retraced the steps that had led him to the temple
of mammon, how cheerfully would he have renounced
all his wealth, for the privilege of earning
his daily bread by incessant toil; toil, that greatest of
all human blessings, that heaven-descended provision
of a bountiful God! How triumphantly would he
have labored early and late, for the privilege of feeling
himself a man, untarnished by crime, and standing
with conscious rectitude, in the presence of assembled
angels!

But such is the retribution of evil, that then only
on its commission, is the beauty of goodness most
perceived. When it is too late to go back to the
green pastures and the still waters, and the sands of
the desert envelop him, the pilgrim in vain regrets
that he wandered from the way, while the recollection
of that which is lost, only serves to add bitterness
to his sorrows, and array his forms of agony in
darker, more impenetrable gloom.

To return from this digression. As soon as Seymour's
willingness to have an interview with Fitzvassal
had been signified to him, he entered the stateroom,
where the young man lay in his berth. The
first question the latter asked, after the usual salutations,
was relative to the well-being of his cousin;
and after he had received assurances of her being comfortably
provided for, and attended by a young girl

who could administer to all her wants, Seymour expressed
his satisfaction in terms of the warmest gratitude.

Fitzvassal assured him, that nothing would be
left undone to contribute to the mutual comfort of
himself and cousin, while they remained on board
his vessel, and promised him that they should be
safely landed in Boston or Salem, as soon as circumstances
would warrant.

“I perceive, Captain Nix,” said Seymour, “that we
are under weigh; are you steering for Boston, now?”

“No,” replied the commander, “the wind is dead
ahead, and I am running down the Bay. To tell
you the truth at once, Mr. Seymour,” he continued,
looking at his guest archly, with a smile and a shake
of the head—“my vessel is in the employment of the
friends of liberty in Boston, and being suspected by
Sir Edmund Andros, I have cause for believing that he
has sent the Revenue-cutter after me, the Frigate being
wanted at home. So I am running a race with his
majesty's revenue boat, though I have no contraband
goods to be taken care of.”

“You surprise me!” exclaimed Seymour—“I am
one of the friends of liberty myself; give me your
hand for a bold heart and a true.”

And they shook hands with all the cordiality of
enthusiastic partisans, who had sworn to live and die
in the defence of the rights of man.

“It is a little singular,” resumed Seymour, “that I

should have thus been thrown in your way. Do
you expect to have a fight with the Cutter?”

“Not if I can well avoid it, Mr. Seymour, till we
have run outside some twenty or thirty miles, for I
do not wish to excite the suspicion of the forts; it
might thwart my measures materially, to do so.”

“Since my sickness,” said Seymour; “I have lost
the run of events in Boston, pray give me all the information
you can about the patriot movements.”

The interviews which Fitzvassal had enjoyed with
Mr. Temple, and subsequently with others of the
committee, enabled him to communicate to the invalid
much valuable intelligence; but that which came
from England interested him the most.

“There are strong indications, Captain Nix, of a
political revolution at home and abroad—I am a disciple
of Mr. Temple's school, perhaps you are not acquainted
with his principles.”

“I think I understand them tolerably well,” replied
the commander, “but as I have never had but one
conversation with him expressly on the subject of
politics, of course I cannot be a proficient in his doctrines.
He is what I call a great man.”

“Undoubtedly he is so, Captain Nix, for he is a
good man. But the time has not yet come when
men will understand that heretofore there has been a
wrong classification of intellectual and moral things.
At present, nearly all the great men of the country
are bad men. The time will come, and Mr. Temple

discerns it afar off, with the vision of a seer, when
men will acknowledge that the moral takes precedence
of the intellectual, and that virtue is the highest
characteristic of man.”

Fitzvassal bowed assent to this doctrine, but he
felt the more keenly how miserable was his own
condition. Yet in the midst of his sufferings, he
was happier in his unconscious humility, than—but
who can measure the comparative happiness, or misery
of man? It is indeed better for man to be humble
than arrogant; though humility is not known to
him any more than is the pre-eminence of goodness;
still less does the world comprehend the beauty of
serving—the privilege of ministering to the well-being
of others.

Fitzvassal now left his guest and went on deck.
The beautiful islands were all a-stern, and the broad
bay opened uninterruptedly to the ocean. The Revenue-Cutter
was still behind, carrying every rag of
canvas she could rake and scrape from below.
Proudly did she bear down upon them, bending to
the pressure of her wide sheets, as if she were careening
in the dock, and throwing the white foam to her
figure-head, and streaming it off from her rudder in
a bright, effervescing wake.

But the Dolphin kept away from her with only her
ordinary sails set, and while the government-vessel
seemed to be straining all her rigging, and making
the most prodigious efforts to overtake the schooner,

the latter flew away before her like an antelope before
a hunter; and as she dashed the spray a-stern,
seemed to exult in superior youth and vigor.

“We will have some sport, Morgan, when we get
outside,” said the Captain, laughing.

“I'm your boy for that sort of work, any day,” replied
the pilot, turning every minute, to observe
whether his vessel held the true course with reference
to the chase.

“I am not so certain that its best to have a brush
with her, Morgan, but I should like to sail round
her by daylight.”

“Clap on your studding-sails, and you can do it,
if you like—but you had better give her a shot or
two for amusement. Did I ever tell you the story of
my smuggling some liquor over shore here?”

“Very likely,” replied the commander, who did
not feel just then in the temper to listen to one of
Jake Morgan's long yarns. “Very likely I have,
Morgan—but see there, there is something coming
along harder to swallow than one of your tough stories.”

As he spoke, a volume of light blue smoke poured
rapidly from the bow of the Revenue Cutter, and
forming itself into an exact ring, came floating on the
current of air that flowed from the west, and presented
one of the most beautiful objects that the eye
ever beheld, while at the same time, a shot came skipping

over the water, and after dashing it up in half
a dozen places, fell about a quarter of a mile a-stern.

“If I were to return that compliment, from the
long twenty-four,” said Fitzvassal, “it would'nt fall
short after that manner.”

At that instant, the first-officer stepped up to the
Captain, and touched his hat as if he expected some
order suited to the occasion.

“Answer her with the big gun, Mr. Wilson!”

“The officer touched his hat again, and retired to
execute the command.

In less than a minute, the match was applied to
the gun, which went off like a peal of thunder, jarring
the schooner to her kelson, and enveloping her in
one thick cloud of smoke.

“The devil take the smoke!” exclaimed Morgan,
“a fellow can't see how the thing travels.”

But in a short time, the wind cleared away the obstacle,
and a large rent was discovered in the foresail
of the Revenue-Cutter.

As soon as this was perceived, the crew of the
Dolphin sent up a loud shout of exulation, which
ended in three hearty cheers; and it being in the
neighborhood of grog-time, the commander, in order
to encourage the men, gave orders to “pipe all hands
to splice the main brace.”

Three more cheers, louder and more hearty than
the others, acknowledged the favor which the Captain
intended for the rough sons of Neptune, who

presently were seen surrounding the tub of “half-and-half,”
and quaffing, each man his half-pint, with true
sailor jollity.

If a revelation had been made in those days, that
in times not far distant, ships would be made to go
to sea with steam, and sailors without it, the declaration
would have been equally incredible; for grog
was then considered as essential to a ship as her rudder,
and sailors regarded it as their very life's blood.
It is so for the most part now, but an improvement
has been made in this respect, which demonstrates
most decisively, that water, and only water, is the
sailor's element.

Fitzvassal, satisfied with the return favor that had
been given to the Revenue-Cutter, went again below,
for fear that his beautiful guest might have been
alarmed at the exchange of salutes; and as he descended,
he found her sitting on a sofa in the cabin,
amusing herself with a book.

“It gives me pleasure,” said the Captain, bowing
and taking off his hat to the lovely object of his adoration,
“to see Miss Wilmer look so well after the fatigues
of yesterday.”

Grace curtesied by bowing her head gently, and
dropping her fair, blue eyes with unaffected respect,
replied:

“I owe all that I enjoy to the generosity of Captain
Nix. I hope that he will accept my gratitude.”

“You owe nothing to me, Miss Wilmer; but it is
I who owe you every thing!”

Grace lifted her eyes upon him, not with surprise,
for since she attributed what he said to nothing but
politeness, she had heard too many fine speeches to
regard them as extraordinary; but she had too deep
a sense of the obligations she was under to the supposed
Captain Nix, to regard him as a common bandier
of compliments, and as she reflected on his possible
meaning, her fair face was gently suffused with
emotion.

“Yes,” continued the mariner, warming as he proceeded,
and not displeased that the charming girl
seemed sensible of his influence: “indeed, I owe to
you every thing that gives me pleasure in life; for
why should I hesitate to declare, that it was Miss
Wilmer that first taught me that I had a better nature
within me, and that self was not a worthy idol
of worship.”

Though it was impossible for Grace Wilmer to
misunderstand this declaration, yet it was couched
in such delicate expressions, and was withal so respectful,
and unpretending in the manner of its utterance,
that she could not be offended; for when is
a gentle being ever annoyed at the implication of a
sentiment which, though it shrink like the violet from
the day-beams, is revealed by its subtler qualities?
But her fine sense of propriety did not allow her to

recognise the avowal of affection; and her exquisite
tact came promptly, and immediately to her aid.

“It is certainly a great privilege,” said Grace, “in
being any way instrumental in making other people
happy, and one of the most enduring sources of enjoyment,
is the conferring of benefits. Our family
have afforded you repeated opportunities of making
yourself happier in that way, and we shall never
cease to be mindful of the obligation.”

And then desirous of giving a different turn to the
conversation, she added:

“But will Captain Nix be so obliging as to inform
me what destination his vessel has at present?”

He then repeated to her in substance, what he had
previously communicated to Seymour, and quieted
every apprehension, by assuring her of a safe and
speedy return home.

“I hope, however, that Miss Wilmer can be contented
on ship-board for a little while,” said Fitzvassal,
desirous of recurring to the original subject of
their discourse, “though there is nothing in the accommodation
of a vessel of war to be particularly
agreeable to a lady.”

“I trust that you will not find us troublesome guests,”
replied Grace: “for my part, I could put up with any
accommodations, after the terrible dangers I have so
recently encountered—but my poor cousin—”

“Have no anxiety on his account, Miss Wilmer,

he will be well enough to attend you,” said the mariner.

“Heaven grant it so;” sighed Grace.

There was a pause of a few seconds, which the
young lady felt to be awkward, and which this very
thought tended to protract. She was about to rise
with a view of retiring to her state-room, but Fitzvassal
detained her.

“Stay a moment, Miss Wilmer! I have that to
communicate which another opportunity may never
allow.”

Grace started involuntarily, but presently recovering
herself, she resumed her seat on the sofa.

“It is a source of consolation to me,” said Grace,
without raising her eyes toward the person she addressed,
“that I am under the protection of a gentleman
who is too chivalrous to offend by a thought.
Say on, Captain Nix; I am all attention.”

There was something like a mixture of real dignity,
and forced constraint, in this speech, that would
have confounded Fitzvassal, if he had not had a real
apology for detaining her; as it was, he did not seem
disturbed, but taking something from his pocket, he
extended it towards her, exclaiming:

“Does Miss Wilmer remember ever to have seen
this?”

Grace looked at it inquiringly for an instant;

Can it be possible?” she cried, “My ring?”

It was indeed the rich jewel that the infatuated

young man had abstracted from her finger, when she
had fainted at the cruel sufferings of her cousin.
True, she had at first suspected who took it from her,
but as the generous and self-devoted man had subsequently
become identified with the heroic mariner
who was instrumental in saving Seymour, she had
driven the idea from her mind as a rude and uncharitable
imagining, as unworthy of herself as it
was undeserved by that officer.

“May I ask,” inquired Grace Wilmer, “how Captain
Nix became possessed of this—I hope he will
excuse me for asking so rude a question, but it is
well intended; I would save him from the suspicion—

“Of theft,” said Fitzassal, supplying the word
which he knew was uppermost in her mind.

“Oh no, by no means,” exclaimed Grace; “such
a thought could not dwell with me, I assure you;—
but at first, the circumstance—the—”

“Miss Wilmer,” said the mariner, interrupting her,
“if I have been so fortunate as to win any kind feelings
from your family by my actions, may they be
permitted to atone for a deed which was prompted by
the delirium of a passion, which—”

“For pity's sake, Captain Nix, forbear!” cried
Grace Wilmer, with extreme agitation, “you know
not what you say; surely, you cannot mean—”

“That I love you!” exclaimed Fitzvassal, passionately,
“and may the heavens witness my devotion.”

“Captain Nix!” replied Grace, turning deadly
pale, “I am faint; give me air! Oh my mother!
my mother!”

And as the tones died away on her lips, she swooned
in his presence.

The buccaneer called hurriedly for her attendant,
and the faithful Celia stood at her side. By using
the ordinary appliances in such cases, Grace revived,
and shortly after withdrew with her maid to her
state-room, and as she laid herself exhausted in her
berth, she found that the ruby ring whose loss had
given her so much uneasiness, was once more glittering
on her finger.