FORECASTLE TALK, A NEW ENEMY, A CHASE, THE STORM. THE ACTION. THE FORTUNES OF THE FIGHT. SCENE ON BOARD THE ENEMY. THE TRICK. FEARFUL ENCOUNTER. SINGULAR DISCOVERY. FANNY A PRISONER. A PEEP AT THE CAMPBELLS’ FIRE-SIDE. THE PARENTS AT HOME.

Let us see how this mode of disposing of the case of the prisoner was received by the inhabitants of the forecastle, the rough and hardy men before the mast. Terrence Moony had come to be a sort of leader as it were among the crew, in all manner of opinion and judgment. Firstly, because he appeared to be peculiarly gifted with the ‘gab,’ as they say of a talkative man at sea, and secondly, because he was a jolly, free-hearted, whole-souled sort of a man. Terrence was very ready with his opinions on every occasion, being in no way loth to express them freely, and more especially at such a time and on such an occasion as the present. He always stood up for the captain, though for the matter of that, there was no man of the crew but would do the same. But then Terrence Moony was particularly sensitive on this point, and was sure to take up the most distant allusion that could possibly be made to reflect upon him.

‘Now who but our captain could have done that?’ asked Terrence confidently, referring to the freeing of the Englishman, ‘jist tell me that; and thin ain’t that British man another man altogether, ever since, intirely. Arrah, it’s the captain of us that’s under holy kapin’.

‘Hark ye, brother,’ said an old tar in reply to Terrence, and, by way of expressing an opinion, ‘whatever my friends may say for or against me, and whatever may be my other good points, they can’t say I’m much of a scholar, but for all that I think I know something about human nature, and damme if I wouldn’t trust this big Englishman with a match beside the magazine, if it had as many openings as a Chinese junk has windows.’

‘Well—’ said another very quietly, ‘I did think that captain Channing was a little hasty when he found out—’

‘Hey? What the divil did ye say?’ put in Terrence Moony fiercely, ‘the captain to blame,’ and he clenched a fist the size of a small infant’s head; ‘where’s the man that will say that?’

‘Avast there, brother,’ said the offender, ‘I say I did think him a little hasty at first, but then you see the result is all right, and no doubt the captain was within soundings all the while.’

‘To be sure he was,’ said Terrence, cooling his ire somewhat slowly.

‘I have seen as fine a seaman as this Englishman,’ said a third, whipt up to the end of a yard on board a British man of war, at the signal of a gun, but he didn’t come down reformed this man is, because why, d’ye see, he come down stiff and dead, and the next hour fed the sharks alongside. Now it seems to me that the best punishment must be that sort which brings a man into the port of repentance, and not such as will knock a hole in his bottom, and sink him before he gets in sight of it.’

‘That’s jist the talk, now,’ said Terrence Moony. ‘What’s the use of hanging a man? thin he’s no use at all, nather to himself nor any body else. Arrah, it’s a mighty miserable use to put a man to.’

‘Who’d have thought that the young man, our commander God bless him,’ said an old weather-beaten mariner, would have had the mercy and discrimination to have done this piece of work. I’ve sailed upon the sea eight and thirty years, and I never saw a thing handsomer done on the ocean.’

Terrence here clapped his hands with delight. He had a perfect infatuation, a sort of monomania relative to Captain Channing, and the faithful fellow would have deemed it an enviable lot to have laid down his life for him at any moment.

‘Aain’t he a jewel, thin?’ said Terrence.

‘Look ye, messmates, did it ever occur to any of ye that our captain is a Pirate, after all,’ said the old seaman.

‘Hey? What’s that?’ said Terrence, ‘do you want me to kill you intirely, Mr. Bolt, or why the divil are ye calling the captain names?’

‘I don’t mean to cast any reflections upon Captain Channing. No, he’s a captain to live and die under; that all will agree To. But, supposing, mess-mates, a British man-of-war should come down from Boston harbor, here-a-way, and run us aboard and take the pretty little Constance, as she would do? I can tell you, brothers. Captain Channing would be dangling from the yard arm of that same man-of-war an hour afterwards as a Pirate!’

‘How the deuce can you make that out?’ asked one of the first speakers. ‘Ain’t the Colonies honestly at war with the English? and have we been cruising against any other nation but them? To be sure, we rummaged that bit of a prison there at Havana, you know, but we didn’t do any harm. A prison’s a prison, and a ship’s a ship; it can’t be piracy to storm a prison-house, dy’e see.’

‘True, brother, but didn’t our Captain ship in the brig Constance as second?’ asked the other speaker; ‘and ain’t he captain of her now by his own making, and ain’t the brig his? Can you tell what all this signifies? It looks to me like what a court-martial would call piracy, that’s all.’

‘Perhaps so; but we ain’t going for to be taken, you see,’ said a new speaker, ‘and that makes all the difference in the world’ This remark was received with a hearty laugh by all and the conversation took another turn.

‘Let’s drop this subject, messmates; it’s no use talking about it,’ said another. ‘Come, whose turn is it to spin a yarn?’

‘Aye, whose turn is it?’ asked several voices at the same time.

‘Come, Brace,’ said one or two of the men, ‘it’s yours, so just come to an anchor alongside here on this chest, and pay out.’

‘Ay, ay, my hearties. Avast there, Terrence Moony with your blarney, while I spin a yarn, do you hear, boy?’

‘Ay, ay, brother, go ahead,’ said Terrence, good naturedly.

Bolling a monstrous quid of tobacco about his mouth for a few minutes, he who was to speak, at length settled it quietly in one side of his cheek, plugging it well down with his tongue, then lounging into an easy attitude, he began:

‘It may be that there is some of you as have sailed up there to the Northerd, where it is so cold that a man don’t dare to stand still for a moment for fear that he shall be frozen to death. No? Well, I have then, and it’s about one of them cruises that I’m going to tell you. You see, we were up there knocking about for some good reason, but for what I don’t know, as our captain sailed with sealed orders, and a foremast man is not very often enlightened by a look at the log of the captain’s mind.

‘But the king had ordered the ship to go there, and I was a pressed man on board so I was there too. And there we were three hundred as fine fellows as you ever set eyes on, or as ever ran up a rattlin, freezing our fingers and toes every watch, and half the time the ship was shut in entirely by the ice; and in this way we remained seven or eight days, I remember, fitted into the ice as close as our carpenter could lay in a plank, nothing to be seen for miles in any direction but one long and almost endless field of ice, with once in a while a walrus, or a sea-horse out of the water and laying sleeping by the small crevices that were formed here and here in the neighborhood of the ship.

‘Well, one day it came on to blow big guns, and such a cracking and snapping among the frozen rigging you never listened to; and the water seemed to be in a perfect rage beneath the ice, as if it did not relish very well living under hatches. Well, this lasted through one whole night and day, during which time I thought, we should have chafed all to pieces; but the captain said that we sat so snugly in the ice, that it was all that saved us, while I could not but wish that we might have a little more room, if only to float free of the ice and its cursed chafin.

‘Well, the next night we were knocked about till daylight, when we found that the ice had broken up, and that we were going before the gale at a tremendous rate, and mostly free of ice. On, on, we went, until at last we approached another field, we could not avoid it, so we sought the safest place where we might lay the ship to ride out the storm, which was now in full blast.

‘Well, we got in and anchored to the solid ice and in the course of a few hours the heft of the storm began to go down, and the sea grew more quiet, and we were like to have a chance to get some rest for the first time for more than forty-eight hours, when one of the look-outs from aloft hailed the deck:

‘“Ship ho!”

‘You may well suppose such a hail thrilled to our very hearts, for we had not seen a sail save those of our own ship for more than two months; and the cry from aloft was echoed by every man in the ship, and those just ready to turn in hurried on deck to get a sight at the stranger, many but half dressed in their eagerness.

‘Where away?’ demanded the officer of the deck.

‘Just off the larboard quarter, sir,’ said the look-out.

‘All eyes were tinned to the point, and sure enough, there lay about three miles to leeward of us, a ship apparently fastened in the ice, and unable to make the least headway. No sails in sight, and her masts looked more like the branches of a tree than good honest standing rigging.

‘Our captain set his signals to working as soon as he could, to try to gain some intelligence from the stranger, but no notice was taken of the signals, and at length the captain fired a gun or two in order to wake them up, but there was no answering signal from the stranger, and at length, the captain, getting out of all patience, ordered a gun to be shotted and fired into her, if indeed we could reach her where she lay.

‘The gun was discharged, and the iron skipped along the ice, now throwing a shower of ice in the air, now gliding along smoothly, but all the while with the speed of light, until it dashed plump into the stranger’s side, scattering the splinters as it had done the ice before. All eyes now strained upon the skip, but not a sign of life was evinced on board of her. No answer was returned either to our shot or the signals. One or two of the officers thought they could make out the figure of a man, or rather that part of him which might be seen above the waist of the ship. But he was motionless, and made no signal, if indeed he was a man at all.

‘Well, we turned in, and it was determined by the captain to send an expedition over the ice the next day to the deaf and dumb ship. It was perilous work, and there was no great anxiety expressed among the men to undertake it, because, do you see, the ice was liable to separate and change its position every minute, and there was every chance that we might be separated from the ship, and perhaps forever. However, the captain detached about twenty men, among whom he placed me, and sent us off under the third Luff to see what we could make out of the stranger. It took us nearly three hours to go the distance to the ship, for we had a good many large cracks or openings in the ice to go round, but at length we got near to the ship, when the Luff still seeing no signs of life, began to suspect that there was some piece of treachery about to be played upon us, and therefore halted the men, and dividing them into two parts, resolved to board the stranger on both the larboard and starboard side at the same time.

‘We boarded her,’ continued Brace, pausing for a moment to roll his quid to the opposite cheek, as he changed his position.

‘Well, well,’ said several anxious voices at once, ‘what then?’

‘Well, as I was saying, we boarded her starboard and larboard, and what do you think was the first thing that met our eyes? I’ll tell you. You see the waist was so deep that we could not see the deck until we got on board, and the quarter being raised but a little above the deck, that was hidden too. Well, as we jumped upon deck, there sat the helmsman at the wheel, stark and stiff, his eyes fixed on vacancy, but his hands still clasping the tiller. Down in the waist there sat a couple of seamen upon a coil of rope, hard as marble, and forward, just by the step of the foremast, crouched a dog as stiff as death. We went up to them, and handled them, but they were like blocks of marble, frozen to death.

‘Down in the captain’s cabin sat him whom the Luff said must have been the captain. He held a pen in his hand, and by his side stood a candlestick, the candle burnt out. He had apparently just commenced to make an entry in the log when overtaken by, and benumbed with the intense cold. The last date under his pen, and which he seemed to have made as the last act of his life, was just one year previous to that very one on which we boarded him!

The log said that the crew had exhausted their fire-wood on board, and that some parts of the vessel had been already cut up to supply them with fuel, which we could see fast enough, and that the cold was almost insufferable, and that at that time the ship was bound by the ice. We found some of the crew in their berths as stiff and hard as their companions on deck.

‘All told the fearful story that they had been overtaken by an extreme degree of cold, which from the various positions and attitudes in which they were found, hard and rigid, mast have been very sudden. Every thing on board that ship that had formerly been animate or inanimate, was struck with the chill, and was more like a rock than a piece of ice, so firm was everything bound up in frozen chains. It was a horrid sight, messmates, that ship. I’ve seen some hard things in my day, but the frozen crew on board that ship in the ice was the worst.’

Thus far Brace had told a true story, melancholy and strange as it may seem, and he had told it too with a degree of intelligence and in language that showed him to be a well-informed man for his station in life in those days. But then he could not let the matter rest here; he must add what they call at sea and among the crew a ‘clincher’ to his story, or else it would lack one important ingredient, and would be hardly considered complete by his messmates. So after taking a turn or two with his quid of tobacco, he continued his story.

‘Well, messmates, there wasn’t much aboard that we cared for, being as we were, so far from home; but I thought to myself that I should like to carry away the dog, just to show the ship’s company when we got back that what we had said was no gammon, but all true. So I asked the Luff if I might take away the dog to show the crew, and he gave me leave; so I shouldered him, and no light load was he either; he was a large, full-bred Newfoundland, but I carried him all the way to the ship myself, and when I got him on board he was a matter of no small curiosity, I can tell you, being a sort of sample of what we had found on board the stranger.

‘Well, I carried the dog down into our mess below to talk over the thing that night with the crew, and at last we turned in, after hearing a few yarns, and lay quiet enough till nearly midnight, when a low, trembling moan awoke me from sleep.

‘I started up, for it sounded most horribly, and I looked round; but finding the rest all asleep I thought I had dreamed it, and so laid down again, but hardly had I done so when it was repeated, and this time louder than before; I started up up again, but could not tell what had caused it, until by chance my eyes rested upon the carcass of the dog which lay just beside the big ship’s coppers where fire was constantly kept, and messmates, what do you think I saw? I’ll tell you. The Newfoundland critter was moving. I jumped up in less than no time, and damme if we didn’t have him thawed out so before daylight, that the captain sent down a middy to stop the noise below decks, the hungry scamp barked so loud.’

‘Look here, Brace,’ said one, ‘that’s palarver.’

‘No, no,’ said Brace, ‘all true, honor bright, messmates.’

‘Do you mean really to say that that ere dog come to life again?’ asked another of the crew.

‘To be sure I do: there’s nothing very wonderful in that.’

‘Well,’ added Terrence Moony, ‘you had the consolation of saving a fellow crathur’s life eny way. Troth, and sich an act is’nt to be sneezed at, so give us your flipper, messmate.’

‘Your yarn is all very well, Brace,’ said one of his messmates, ‘but that dog part is rather a dose.’

‘Never you mind that,’ said Brace, ‘and now I think of it, Marling, it’s your turn next.’

‘Yes, yes, it’s your turn next,’ said half a dozen voices at once.

‘For the matter of that I believe you’re all right,’ said Marling good naturedly, ‘avast there.’

And after rolling his quid about his mouth for a few minutes, and hesitating for a moment, said:

‘I say, messmates, you must let me off with a song; fact is, I can’t think of any yarn just now, how will that do?’

‘Oh yes, a song, a song, give us a song,’ they all cried together.

‘Well then, here goes a song to old hoary Neptune.

MARLING’S SONG.

Ho, ye—ho Messmates, we’ll sing

The glories of Neptune, the ocean king,

He reigns o’er the waters, the wide sea’s his home,

Ho ye—ho, in his kingdom we roam.

He spreads a blue carpet all over the sea,

O’er which our bark walks daintily—

Though down at the bottom the old monarch hails,

He blows the fresh wind plump into our sails.

Landsmen who live on the dull, tame shore,

Love their homes, but ours we love more:

Oh! a ship and salt water, messmates, for me—

There’s nothing on earth like the open sea.

Landsmen are green boys, I have a notion

They don’t know the fun that’s had on the ocean;

But contented they live in one spot all their lives,

Like honey bees, messmates, they stick to their hives.

What though we have storms? They’ve earthquakes on shore,

And though we have troubles, they surely have more;

We gather rare food ‘mong the isles of the sea.

When the tropical fruit grows, there boys, are we.

Ah! give us the ocean; nought but the sea

Is a fit home, messmates, for hearts that are free.

Ho, boys ho! then let us all sing

To the glory of Neptune, the ocean’s king.

This song being original with Marling, and sang to a popular air of the day, was hailed with great applause by his comrades to whom he was obliged to sing it again and again before they would be satisfied. Terrence Moony swore ‘by the powers of mud that it bate everything intirely.’

‘And did you make all that up yerself?’ asked Terrence.

‘It’s mine, such as it is, Terrence, my boy.’

‘Thin you’re a gintilman intirely, for is’nt it thim as bees the authors of poetry? Arrah, and hav’nt we a gintilmen in our mess?’

But to the reader, let Marling’s verses show that the forecastle is not entirely devoid of taste, and that many a hardy son of the ocean carries within him a fund of wit, aye, and genius too, that only needs the occasion to call it forth.

As if by common consent, all now turned upon Terrence Moony and charged him with the heinous offence of not having spun one yarn since the commencement of the voyage. Terrence had no faculty for story telling, and therefore rather fidgeted under the sallies and jokes of his messmates. But at length his eyes brightened up, and his features were really handsome with the look of intelligence and enthasiasm that lit them up as he said: ‘I hav’nt any turn that way you see, friends, but there’s a bit of a circumstance happinid to meself not long ago, I’ll tell yes.’

And Terrence related in his own peculiar way, the kindness that Capt. Channing had shown his dying mother. He had never mentioned thus in detail before, though his messmates knew that the captain had once served Terrence by some needed charity. You should have seen the tears start from the eyes of those rough sea-dogs as Terrence told his tale with a feeling that could not be mistaken. It showed that the forecastle covered up as truly kind and sensitive hearts as did the quarter-deck.

There was no open applause after Terrence’s tale, but it produced its effect, and one or two rough but honest slaps upon the shoulder showed him that the mess wished him to understand that he was altogether a particularly clever fellow, these very blows being designed to express the indelible character of their regard.

As to Captain Channing, there was a vote taken on the spot that there never was such another, though it hardly needed this fresh proof of goodness in their commander to incite them to such a declaration, inasmuch as they had long entertained this feeling toward him; and they might well do so, for their every comfort was cared for, and their good constantly considered by him who commanded them. How easy a matter it is to gain the affection and regard of those dependant upon us, by treating them as we ourselves would wish to be treated in a like situation. There is a golden rule touching this point.

I do not know why it is, but it is a well known fact, that sailors are notorious for story-telling, or as they term it, for spinning yarns. They are driven to it in part for recreation, as there is no duty so monotonous than that of a foremast man aboard ship. Confined within the narrow limits of the vessel, he sees but few faces and those perhaps he is associated with for months, without once landing. Thus the inhabitants of the forecastle, seldom possessing books, are thrown much upon their own resources for amusement during such time as they may find their own. Story-telling is a very natural as well as fascinating mode of amusement; and this they universally adopt, on all occasions. I have sometimes heard landsmen remark that the nicely told stories put in print as coming from seamen while spinning a yarn to their messmates, were all moonshine; that foremast men could not talk like that. This is a mistake—the constant habit renders them very perfect, and I have listened through a whole watch to as well a told story from one of the crew of a merchantship, as I have ever read; told too with a degree of refinement entirely unlooked for. Thus the crew of the Constance were now engaged, and we cannot refrain from transcribing one more yarn that was spun in the forecastle on this occasion. The song seemed to have inspired them all, and they were vociferous, among themselves for another yarn immediately.

‘Come, Jennings, it’s your turn, there’s no mistake about that,’ said two or three of the men to one of their companions, sitting by the chest.

‘Ay, ay, messmates, wait a bit till I overhaul my reckoning.’

‘That’s it, a yarn from Jennings, a yarn from Jennings!’ they all cried.

Jennings was a real specimen of a yankee; tall, muscular, and good looking, with a large degree of intelligence shining from his features.

Like his race, generally, he was up to making money, and the high offer of the British captain in the way of wages had tempted his cupidity so far, as to induce him to ship for what he believed to be a simple trading voyage to the West Indies.

‘Well messmates, you have been talking about the salt sea; I’m going to spin you a yarn about the land, that will be a new wrinkle, so here goes. But let me just tell you at the beginning that it’s no dog story, but a matter of fact.

‘Most of you come from the same parts as myself, but I don’t think you have heard this story, being’s it occurred many miles back to the west end of the town of Boston, and near by where I was born. You see I was born on the Hadley flats in Massachusetts, just by a bend of the Connecticut, though I soon came to the sea-side after I got to be old enough to leave home, and soon took a fancy to the ocean, which I have followed ever since. I wasn’t so young when I left home, but that I remember the only spot in all the earth where I want to lay my hulk after the cruise of life is up, it is the neighborhood of the green meadows, and the curving bends of the Connecticut, which runs smoothly over the very foot of Mount Tom and Mount Holyoke. It was not far from this spot that I was born. Just above us and near to the base of these two highest mountains in the state, there lived a tribe of Indians—friends of the settlers, and with whom they associated like brothers.

‘I have wandered, when a boy, among their lodges—have climbed up the steep paths of the mountains, and strolled among the groves and fields that skirt the banks of the river, and, messmates, I have sometimes wondered in my dreams, if we can be happier in heaven than I was then, and if paradise can be a milder or more desirable place than that.

‘Well, messmates, you see it’s a story about this tribe of Indians that I’m going to tell you about, or rather about one of them. The old Chief of the tribe had two children only, both girls, and as clean-limbed and pretty as a roe-buck from the hills; they were the pride of the old mans heart, and, indeed, of the whole tribe.

‘The oldest one was called Kelmond, which meant, in their dialect, ‘The Mountain Child’ They called her so because she was born in one of their lodges on the side of that eminence, Holyoke, which looks down upon the valley of the Connecticut, as you could, messmates, upon the deck of the brig, when yer up at the top-mast head. Her sister was called Komeoke, which means in their language, ‘The Fair’ They always name their women in this way, with some soft and pretty-like name.

‘Well, the oldest was the prettiest and the gentlest creature you ever saw, and there wasn’t a warrior in the whole tribe who would not have had her for his wife, if he could have got her. But somehow or other, she loved to pass her days in the woods tying wild flowers and lying by the bright clear brooks that spring up in thousands on the hill-sides and in the groves, and she never listened: to any of them wild love songs and tokens of affection.

‘Her sister was a very pretty girl, and if one hadn’t seen the eldest, he truly might have thought the youngest one the prettiest creature he had ever seen, though her sort of beauty was altogether of a different kind. She was all, every inch, Indian, bold, fearless, and more like a man than a female. They loved each other with all the fervor of affection that their girlish hearts could feel, even though their dispositions were so very different.

‘In our village, if I may so call the dozen houses that made up the place; around the block house, there was stopping a young Englishman who had come there with his gun and hounds and a single servant man, for the purpose of hunting for mere sport. He was a fine, handsome looking man, belonging to some great family in England, and was about twenty-two years old. He hadn’t been with us but a few weeks, before, in some of his wanderings he met with Kelmond, the oldest of the chiefs two handsome children. I don’t think there ever was a man who had a better way of making himself agreeable, messmates, a sort of winning way, just like our captain. I mean a sort of faculty of getting everybody’s good graces. Well, he wasn’t long in making himself acquainted with the beautiful Indian girl, and they used often to meet by themselves in the woods, and the Englishman won her heart completely. The way I found it out was by following him one day to see where he could go to so regularly every day, and I soon understood the scent. Well, it was plain that for some reason that he didn’t want any one to knew about the business, so when I hinted about it, do you see, he told me to say nothing about the thing, and gave me a dollar to keep mum, while he still went regularly every day to the place where they met and sat for hours together.

‘I don’t know anything about the stories he used to tell the girl, or what he promised her, but the rascal deceived her, I know so much. Randolph, that was the Englishman’s name, had lived in great cities, where there is all kinds of vice and evil practised, as you and I know, messmates, perhaps he didn’t think the thing so much of a crime as some others would look upon it; but that’s no matter, he betrayed her and forsook her soon afterwards, and I was not long in discovering this, for though I was a boy, I knew some things that the Englishman thought I didn’t, and when I saw that he began to leave the clearing by a different path, I understood the whole affair and told him so in secret; he offered me money, but I refused it, and told him that an Indian never forgave an injury, and that he would have to suffer for it. I told him that if she did not revenge herself, there were an hundred knives that would do it for her, aye, and find him, hide where he would. But you see, he didn’t mind me at all, and still staid thereabouts.

‘Well, time passed on, and one day I was out with my gun for some game and happened to be very near the place where Randolph and Kelmond used to meet, and coming up to it suddenly, I found the Indian girl upon the spot, and crying as I had never seen an Indian before, for they’re a stern race, you know, messmates; well, I could not but offer her all the consolation I knew how to do, and, you see, she knew where I came from, and so asked me about Randolph’s health, and the like, but never reproached him for all his deception, not a word. ‘Twould have made you blubber right out to have seen that poor, brokenhearted girl asking after him who had betrayed her, with all the warmth of an affection that could never die. There’s something queer, messmates, about a woman’s love; I never sailed much in those latitudes, but I’ve seen those that have, and I can say, on my own account, that I never could find soundings myself, throw the lead as often as I would. So it was with this beautiful Indian girl; her heart was still the same towards him who had rendered her cruise for life one of perfect misery.

‘Well, from that hour the wild flower of the mountains withered and faded like a broken reed, until the suspicion of her sister Komeoke was aroused, and she at length told her all her misery. She heard it without a word of revenge, and did all her kind heart could suggest, to make her dear sister as comfortable as she might. Well, a few days from the time she told her secret to her sister, the poor, beautiful, but broken-hearted girl, like a ship without a compass, messmates, lost her mind, they say; at any rate she climbed to the very highest part of Holyoke, where a long, sharp rock extends out from the hill-side, and looks off towards the valley, and threw herself off from the immense height upon the rocks and stones below. Her father found her body the next day all mangled and torn to pieces. Her sister, too, looked upon her dead body, and then uttered the deep, horrid curse of her tribe upon him who had caused this ruin. She did not shed a single tear, so a red warrior told me afterwards, but her spirit was awake—she was aroused and the Indian blood was at work in her veins.

‘Before another sun had gone down, messmates, Randolph fell near the door of the house where he stopped, pierced to the heart by a poisoned arrow, and a few moments after, the sister of Kelmond sought his side and told him, why that arrow was sent—told him that he would appear before the Indian’s God with Kelmond, that he would be banished into the dirty, muggy swamps that evil ones inhabit, while the good were roving the happy hunting grounds of the blessed. Well, messmates, Randolph died of that fatal wound, and I, for one, am free to say he did not deserve to live. The sister was revenged, and Komeoke became the wife of a great brave.

‘’Twas soon after this that I left the neighborhood, and came to Boston and shipped to sea; but I have seen people from the settlement who say that the story didn’t end here, for that on any clear moonlight night the form of the Indian girl is seen at midnight upon that lofty rock, that many and often are the sacrifices made by the tribe for her spirit, but still it appears nightly on the rock.

‘There, messmates, is my true yarn about the Indian Maiden of Holyoke.’

Fortune is a fickle goddess, and she now threatened to desert Fanny in the greatest need. The little fleet was fast approaching the shores of Cape Cod when the look-out shouted the usual announcement of a vessel in sight. All on board the Constance, as well as the prizes, the barque and the ship, knew the precarious nature of their present situation, for they were now coming upon a coast that literally swarmed with the cruisers of the enemy. Every precaution had been taken that prudence could suggest to strengthen the little armament, but eight fighting men to a vessel, be she ever so well armed, could not avail much against a regular man-of-war of the smallest class with her full complement of men. This they knew full well, and no effort that ingenuity could devise was left untried to render every thing available that might favor them in case of attack. The arms were all double loaded, and every thing that vigilance could do was done. At the cry we have announced, from the look-out, every one was on the alert. It was morning, and the wind being fresh and fair, all had hoped to anchor that night in the quiet little harbor of Lynn, where the crew had ascertained that the captain would drop his land tackle. It was a clear, cold day, and the chill winds of northern winter were doubly felt by those on board the Constance, and the prizes who had so lately left the milder latitudes of the South.

The strange sail proved to be a brig of about the same tonnage as the Constance, and evidently a vessel in the commission of the king, wearing the British ensign at the gaff. She stood boldly for the Constance, whom her people appeared to have discovered at about the same time that she was seen by the Americans, and soon fired a gun of defiance. Lovell, seeing the impending danger, sheered up to within hailing distance of the brig, when Fanny ordered him and also Herbert to separate from each other, but to stand in for their port without noticing the king’s vessel, saying that it was of no use to risk the loss of their prizes, and that she would get out of the trouble in some way, or at any rate draw off the attention of the enemy from the barque until they should escape.

Lovell was in dilemma,—he did not dare to disobey order’s for example’s sake, nor even to question the propriety of the order for a single moment, and there was no course left him but to obey it, which he did with great reluctance, and yet with a full confidence that Fanny would manage all for the best.

The barque and ship therefore stood on their course for port, while Fanny ordering the helm up, put the brig before the wind with the hope of outsailing the cruiser. The enemy had already got within such distance as to render her strength manifest, and also to show her clearly what her enemy was. The brig proved to be the Dolphin, of twelve guns and about fifty men. She was short of her full complement, having detailed a number of her men by order of the admiral, for one of the larger ships upon the station.

The captain of the Dolphin, seeing the vessels separated, saw that he must select one as a mark for his ambition, and that he could not get the three in such a position as to render their capture a matter of probability. Some little time was lost in making selection, but at last he decided that the Constance was the most worthy of his honors, and so gave her chase forthwith.

One of the most exciting things that can well be conceived of, is a chase at sea. The mariner never fails to wish for more wind, forgetting apparently that the same force that propels his own vessel, also aids that of his enemy; and when the two vessels are of about the same tonnage, their increase of speed as it regards the force of the wind, must be nearly, if not exactly in the same ratio. There was a very fresh breeze blowing at the time, and yet Fanny did not cease to wish for more.

The two vessels had thus tested their sailing qualities for nearly three hours, when it was plainly manifest that the enemy being better able to handle his sails with promptness, had far the advantage of the Constance, and that he was fast gaining upon her. The breeze had increased to a hard blow, and Fanny had been obliged to furl sail after sail until the brig was now leaping forwardlike an arrow, before the wind, under close reefed topsails, jib, and mainsail, while the Dolphin, being able to shorten sail at any moment, was more venturesome, and sail held on, and thus came up hand over hand with the Constance.

It was now evident that there was no escape, or at least without fighting first, and Fanny determined she would do so, although she had but eight men to oppose to fifty. The sea now ran so high that fortunately it rendered boarding a matter entirely out of the question. Fanny’s quick wit understood this full well, and she hoped that it might possibly prove to be her safety by enabling her to fight at a distance, where her eight men could work to some advantage over the heavy gun amidships.

The wind blew a gale, and the Constance was now flying over the sea with only a double reefed topsail to steady her course and give her steerage. The Dolphin came on at a scarcely less fearful speed, and running under almost bare poles; but finding that his enemy was now increasing his distance, the captain of the Dolphin shook out a reef from his only sail that was spread, and soon gained again on the Constance. Fanny was not long in ascertaining that the advantage she had possessed over her former enemies was equally the case on the present occasion; for although the Dolphin carried twelve guns, yet none of them were of equal calibre to the Constance’s gun amidships, and at the present distance were actually of no use at all.

It was a fearful sight to see those two vessels dashing on through the boisterous and tempestuous ocean, regardless of the warring elements, and apparently only intent upon the destruction of each other. Almost any other officer in his majesty’s service would have sought rather to look to the safety of his own vessel in such a tempest as now reigned; but the captain of the Dolphin was one who did not give up an object so lightly. He prided himself on his seamanship, and while he made everything snug, yet he kept an eye upon the chase, determined not to lose sight of her, if possible to avoid it. At intervals, as an aim might be had, the Dolphin kept up a fire upon the Constance, but with little or no effect, while the crew of the American brig fired only at such times as they were pretty sure of their aim, and thus they had already done fearful execution upon the hull and rigging of the Dolphin. It required two men at the helm of the Constance, thus leaving Fanny but six of the crew to manage the vessel, and serve the gun amidship. In this dilemma, Fanny felt severely the want of more men, and had herself been laboring at all light matters about the deck for some time. At this moment in which the fact was forcing itself strongly upon her mind, there appeared upon deck the burly form of the pardoned Englishman, who had been permitted to go below by his own request, that he might not take part against his own countrymen.

‘Captain Channing,’ said he, ‘I cannot fight against my king, but if you will order these two men away from the wheel, I will serve you faithfully.’

This was an important station, and Fanny accepted the generous offer with thanks, from the man whose life she had so lately saved, and he assumed the station assigned him, obeying implicitly the wishes of Fanny. This was no slight aid to her, and leaving the management of the helm to him, she oversaw the management of the piece herself.

If Lovell could have seen her there, with that noble scorn of danger beaming from her face as she watched the rise and swell of the sea to get an aim at the Dolphin, and applying the match with her own hands; if he had seen her then, her head bared to the raging elements, yet coolly giving her orders to men, he would have thought her inspired from Heaven. The long tom under the management of the crew of the Constance had already done fatal execution on board the enemy; by singular good fortune scarcely a shot was thrown away, and this fearful accuracy astonished even the Captain of the Dolphin who though he kept up a constant firing, yet did but little injury to the chase in the distance at which they were from each other.

‘Now’ do I wish I had a score of men on board her, Brace,’ said Fanny to him who was now her mate, ‘in order that we might take yonder brig; we could do it, sir, if she would but hold on for us till the storm should abate, if we had that number of men,’ and Fanny’s eyes sparkled at the thought of ‘another prize’.

‘He don’t like this gun, sir, for see, Captain Channing, he’s sheering off as far as he dares to with the wind and storm from the North West.’

‘True—hard-a-port,sir,’ said Fanny to her faithful helmsman, ‘we are just at the right distance for our convenience and must keep it, Mr. Brace.’

‘So it strikes me, sir,’ said the mate pointing the gun.

Thus the Constance actually began to assume the position of pursuer, while the Dolphin was endeavoring to get out of the reach of the destructive long tom. Fanny realty began to feel the pride of a victor, notwithstanding the dangers that still surrounded the fearful raging of the storm.

Let us see what passed on board the Dolphin.

‘Mr. Millman,’ said the commander of the king’s vessel to his second officer, ‘keep her away a point or two; that cursed single gun of the rebel will sink us if we don’t get out of its reach. A little more, sir, steady, so, she’ll bear that—keep her so—that’s well.’

‘Three of my best men killed, and a dozen in the surgeon’s hands by these damned splinters and iron shot,’ mused the captain half aloud, ‘who could have foretold all this? Halloa, there, who’s hurt now?’ said the captain to an officer who approached to report the effect of the last shot from the Constance which had struck the Dolphin just amidships.

‘A couple of the best berths are emptied for the cruise, sir, and there’s a trough across the main deck two inches deep, all by a single ball!’

This was the second shot that had been reported to him; five of his best men gone, and the surgeon’s ward filled with the wounded.

‘The devil take this pirate of a rebel,’ said the commander of the Dolphin; ‘who ever knew shot to take-effect this way with such a sea on, and in such a cursed tempest?’

‘Keep her away another point, Mr. Millman,’ said the captain to his second. ‘The rascal will murder the whole crew at this rate, and I not able to strike a single blow.’

‘I’m afraid she wont bear another point, sir,’ ventured the Lieutenant; ‘she strains fearfully as it is, sir.’

‘Then keep her as she is, sir, if you can,’ growled the captain, ‘and the d———d rascal don’t sink us before the night sets in.’

There was indeed a fearful accuracy to the shot from the Constance, and there was that singular good luck (if we may call that good luck which sacrifices human life) attending every discharge that sometimes follows the throws of a gambler, who for a time seems sure of every game and high numbers—thus was it from the shot from the American brig. Nearly every one told with fearful accuracy upon the deck of that Dolphin. It looked almost like a miracle that gunnery could be so accurate in such a sea, but so it was, and fatally so.

The captain of the Dolphin foamed and raged like the very tempest about him at this unaccountable state of things, until at length he walked up to Mr. Millman who was at the helm, and said: ‘Mr. Millman, we must pull down that article,’ pointing to the English flag that was flapping and cracking like the report of a pistol, at the main; ‘the brig already leaks from one of those cursed shot. And besides in such a storm.’

‘Strike, sir?’ asked the Lieutenant in astonishment.

‘For a while only.’

‘Ah! I see, sir; a ruse, that is all, I suppose.’

‘Mr. Millman,’ continued the captain, ‘they can’t board, would to God they might try that,’ said he, clenching his fist.

‘The night will soon set in, sir.’

‘True, we can take our own course then.’

The necessary orders were given, and the proud flag of old England was again humbly lowered to the simple pine tree,-which still floated from the main of the Constance, she ceased her fire, and all the care of her crew was devoted to keeping the brig safe till the storm should abate.

Intense darkness soon shut victor and prize from each other’s sight, while the storm still raged its wild fury until nearly morning, when it gradually subsided. The morning broke clear and cold, and Fanny could see her late antagonist some three miles to windward of the Constance, and at that distance she could easily see the crippled condition of her spars.

‘Did he know,’ said she to Mr. Brace, ‘that he would find but about half a dozen men to contend with, we should yet have him down upon us seeking for close quarters; but I think he has had quite enough of us and that iron piece amidships there, will make him keep well away, if he can.’

This was hardly said on board the brig, when the yards of the Dolphin were squared, her sails all set, and in a few minutes she was cutting the water swiftly towards where the Constance lay.

‘Ah! Mr. Brace, the enemy are coming down lor another brush,’ said Fanny, ‘and there goes St. George’s flag again, or I’ve not got my eyes; the fellow has seen with his glass how weak we are on board here.’

‘True, sir, the fellow is in earnest this time, and we shall soon have him at close quarters. It will be all up with us then, Captain Channing.’

‘Step down and superintend that gun, Mr. Breed; we will keep him off as long as possible, sir.’

All sail was also crowded upon the Constance to endeavor to escape the dreaded close quarters, which must render the victory certain to the enemy. She skipped lightly off under the influence of the fresh breeze, and her enemy gained but slowly upon her, while the long tom was again doing execution upon the Dolphin’s deck. Ill fared it now with the short-handed crew of the Constance, who were not able properly to trim their own sails to take advantage of the wind; and though Fanny endeavored to cut up the rigging of her enemy and thus retard his speed, yet the long tom, singular enough, that had done such wonderful deeds during the storm, now that it was comparatively calm proved far less efficient, though as we have said, the shot did do some execution upon the Dolphin’s deck. Soon the shot from the enemy’s smaller metal, began to tell upon the Constance’s rigging, and her sailing was consequently much retarded, while the Dolphin fast neared her.

‘Mr. Brace,’ said Fanny, calling the mate to her, ‘we shall soon be at close quarters with the enemy. Now I have no idea of giving up the brig even to the large number we have to contend with yonder, without selling our right and title at a handsome advance on the cost.’

‘I’m ready and willing, sir, to do all a pair of hands can do,’ said the willing mate.

‘I know it, sir,’ was the reply. ‘I have a plan by which we shall be enabled to diminish the number of our enemies, at least, if not to rid ourselves entirely of them—possibly we may drive them off by it if it should succeed completely.’

‘What will you have done, sir.’

‘Have these six carronades all brought aft just here at the rise of the quarter deck, range them in a line pointing forward, so that they shall completely sweep the deck.

‘Load them with slugs and bullets, and with a couple of small shot in each, and be sure they are well charged; load them to the muzzle, sir. Hang across the deck just in front of them a large strip of canvass that shall hide them completely from sight; be sure that you rig it so that it can be dropped at a moment’s warning, be careful, sir.’

‘I understand, sir,’ said Mr. Brace.

‘Be lively now, there’s not a minute to lose.’

‘Ay, ay, sir.’

While this order was executing, the Dolphin fast neared the Constance, everything she could make draw in her crippled state being well managed; and Fanny could see by the course her captain was steering that he intended to lay the vessels along side, yard arm. This spurred her on to the execution of her plan, and she called out to the mate; ‘All ready there, Mr. Brace?’

‘Ay, ay, sir.’

The course of the Constance was altered, and tacking boldly she stood directly for the Dolphin, until she fouled on her starboard quarter, running her bowsprit across the enemy’s deck. In a moment the captain of the king’s vessel was seen boarding the Constance by the bowsprit, followed by nearly two score of his crew, armed with boarding pikes and cutlasses. As soon as the two vessels had become entangled together, Fanny sprang down behind the canvass that had just been erected, and where the small crew of the brig were already gathered, and hidden from the enemy.

The captain and crew of the Dolphin sprang at once on to the forecastle of the Constance, but there they paused, for there was no visible enemy to contend with, and fearing some secret attack, they gathered closely together, as if for greater security, but thus unwittingly heightening their own danger.

At a word from Fanny, while they were in this position, the canvass sheet was dropped and the matches were applied to the six cannon at the same moment! The havoc was tremendous! At least two thirds of the enemy who had boarded the brig were killed on the spot, while of the rest scarcely one remained without a wound. The one taking discharge from the six cannon loaded to the muzzle with powder and shot made most fearful havoc, indeed! Such of the enemy as could keep their feet, seeing so many of their comrades dead and dying about them, rushed precipitately back to the deck of their own vessel, but observing the weakness of the Constance’s crew, renewed the attack and carried the deck in a hand to hand contest.

Fanny’s pistol had taken the life of one of the enemy, and the other was presented to the breast of the Captain of the Dolphin, whose sword was also upraised to strike her, when both paused in astonishment, gazing at one another. Fanny’s arm which held the pistol sunk by her side, and the sword of her enemy fell harmless! ‘Fanny Campbell!’

‘Captain Burnet!’

Exclaimed each, uttering the other’s name.

The astonishment of both was complete.—Fanny’s presence of mind did not for a moment desert her, but approaching the Captain of the Dolphin, she said:

‘For Heaven’s sake, do not recognize me as a female.’

‘But can I believe my eyes?’ asked Burnet in astonishment.

‘They need not deceive you,’ said Fanny.

‘And are you captain here,’ he asked.

‘I was until you came on board,’ said Fanny gallantly giving up her sword to the victor.

‘But—but—’ said Burnet, hesitating.

‘I will explain all when we are alone,’ said Fanny.

She was conducted to the private cabin of Captain Burnet, and a prize crew of four only, placed in the Constance, while the prisoners were all released, and most of them taken on board the Dolphin. These prisoners, from the necessary severity of their confinement, were unable to work, and indeed scarcely able to walk. Thus the four men placed on board the Constance, with two of the prisoners who were found to be able to work, under the charge of the mate of the Dolphin, formed all the crew that could be spared. Burnet could not afford a larger number, for his late encounter had cost him more than two thirds of his whole complement of men. He had but ten seamen left to work his own vessel, and as they were so near to port he doubted not that the brig would be easily worked into harbor. He therefore made sail and left her to follow him to Boston.

Scarcely had the Dolphin dropped her prize so far astern as to fairly lose sight of her, before the bark and ship, having changed their course and returned to see how the Constance had rode out the storm, hove in sight. They were not long in ascertaining the state of affairs, and in making themselves masters of the brig again! Lovell learned the details of the whole affair from the Englishman whom Fanny had pardoned. The evidence of the dreadful slaughter upon the Constance’s forecastle was still visible, and was viewed with feelings of no slight degree of interest by Lovell and Herbert.—The former feared much for Fanny, and indeed was half crazed with regret; but there was no other course for them to take but to steer their course for Lynn harbor, which all three of the vessels did, Lovell and Herbert having heavy hearts within them for victors to carry; and the former would gladly have relinguished all to have clasped Fanny again safely in his arms.

Thus was the thread of our eventful tale spun on the wide waters at sea, while on land and in the little hamlet of High Bock, Lynn, the friends and relations of Fanny Campbell, except her parents, had never ceased to speculate and wonder as to the true cause of her absence. Her parents maintaining a profound secrecy upon the subject, threw a stronger degree of mystery about the matter, that kept the good old women and the gossips generally of the village in fidgets. Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Campbell themselves did not hesitate to express a feeling of fear and dread lest some ill had befallen her, yet pretending that they really did not know where she had gone, for this was the express wish of Fanny and the promise gained from her parents that they would not reveal her secret was religiously kept when she left her home. One or two knowing the fact of William Lovell’s imprisonment, had shrewdly surmised that her absence related in some way to the affair; but in what particular way, no one knew.

‘I have daily forebodings that poor Fanny will never see her home again,5 said her mother to her consort one evening when both sat quietly with the bible open before them, and from whence they had as usual been reading aloud,’ previous to retiring to rest for the night.

‘Let us trust in Heaven, wife, it’s a holy cause she is engaged in, but I too have my fears for her safety.’

‘Poor child, she did not even tell us how she was to make the voyage,’ said the mother,—‘unprotected though of course.’

‘Well wife, I would trust Fanny where I wouldn’t like to an elder and more experienced head. She’s a strange girl, and beside her book knowledge, has a good idea of common things. I have great faith in her judgment, or I should never have consented for her to leave us, although she was so urgent and determined about the matter.’

‘Heaven protect her!’ ejaculated the mother, with uplifted eyes.

‘Amen,’ added the father fervently.

‘It would be a romantic story if she should succeed,’ said the mother, her countenance brightening up with fresh hope, not that there was the least reason in it save, her own thoughts.

‘Ay, as good a plot as the Bay Province ever furnished for a novel, even in the old Indian times,’ said the father.

‘It is two months since she left us,’ said the mother.

‘Yes, and before the expiration of another week, we may possibly hope to hear from her at least.’

‘She set the time for her return at three months, I remember.’

‘Which will be a short time after all,’ continued the father, ‘even had she a vessel solely at her command. But you see, she must pass some time on the island at any rate, and then whether she proves successful or otherwise, she must wait for some vessel bound to Boston from that port.

‘There are many chances against her,’ sighed the old man seriously, as he raked the coals together on the hearth.

‘Oh! it was a wild undertaking,’ said Fanny’s mother, as much dejected now as she was a few moments before elated, and for just as good a reason as before stated and no other.

‘That remains to be seen, wife.’

‘You say this to comfort me who feel so timid—that’s all, Henry.’

‘I don’t know,’ said the husband seriously and partly to himself, ‘but I still have great faith in Fanny.’

‘Heaven grant it true faith.’

‘Amen,’ again said the father.

And after the usual prayer to the throne of grace, in which Fanny’s name was often and fervently mentioned, the good old couple retired to their humble cot to rest after their day’s labor, and were soon wrapped in the quiet and refreshing sleep that industry and frugality ensure to the humble.