Chapter Fourteen.

Chapter Fourteen.The Black Slaver (continued)—The Chase—The Slaver—The Capture—The Escape—The Pursuit.The Chase.We left her Britannic Majesty’s brig “Sylph” in chase of a strange sail on the coast of Africa. The wind was from the westward, and she was standing on a bowline to the southward, with the coast clearly seen broad on the lee-beam. Captain Staunton ordered every expedient he could think of to be tried to increase the speed of his vessel, for the stranger was evidently a very fast sailer, though it was at first difficult to say whether or not she was increasing her distance from them. At all events, the British crew soon saw that it would be hopeless to expect to come up with the stranger before dark, for the sun was just sinking below the horizon, and the thick mists were already rising over the wooded shore, and yet they appeared to be no nearer to her than they were when they first made sail in chase. It was a magnificent sailing breeze, just sufficient for both vessels to carry their topgallant-sails and royals without fear of springing their spars, and the sea was perfectly smooth, merely rippled over by the playful wind. Indeed, as the two vessels glided proudly along over the calm waters, they appeared rather to be engaged in some friendly race than anxious to lead each other to destruction. All the officers of the “Sylph” were on deck with their glasses constantly at their eyes, as the last rays of the sun tinged the royals of the chase, and so clearly was every spar and rope defined through that pure atmosphere, that it was difficult to believe that she was not within range of their guns. Captain Staunton and his first lieutenant walked together on the weather-side of the deck.“Do you think she is the ‘Espanto,’ Mr Collins?” asked the captain.“I have no doubt about it, sir,” answered the officer addressed. “I watched her narrowly when we chased her off Loanda the last time she was on the coast, and I pulled round her several times when she lay in the harbour of St. Jago da Cuba, just a year and a half ago.”“She has had a long run of iniquity,” said the captain; “two years our cruisers have been on the look-out for her, and have never yet been able to overhaul her.”“That Daggerfeldt must be a desperate villain, if report speaks true,” observed the lieutenant; “I think, sir, you seemed to say you once knew him.”“I did, to my cost,” answered Captain Staunton; “that man’s life has been a tissue of treachery and deceit from his earliest days. He once disgraced our noble service. He murdered a shipmate and ran from his ship on the coast of America. It was reported for some time that he was dead, by his clothes having been found torn and bloody on the shore, and his family, fortunately for them, believed the story. It was, however, afterwards discovered that he had been sheltered by a Spanish girl, and, in gratitude for his preservation, he carried her off, robbed her father of all his wealth, and either frightened him to death or smothered him. The unhappy girl has, it is said, ever since sailed with him, and it is to be hoped she is not aware of the enormity of his guilt. Pirate and slaver, he has committed every atrocity human nature is capable of.”“A very perfect scoundrel, in truth, sir,” answered Mr Collins. “It was said, too, I remember, that he was going to marry a very beautiful girl in England. What an escape for her!”“No, he was not going to marry her!” exclaimed the captain, with unusual vehemence. “Her father, perhaps, wished it, but she would never have consented. Collins, you are my friend, and I will tell you the truth. That lady, Blanche D’Aubigné, was engaged to me, and never would have broken her faith to me while she believed me alive. By a series of forgeries, Daggerfeldt endeavoured to persuade her that I was false to her, though she would not believe him. On my return home she is to become my wife. We were to have married directly I got my promotion, but I was so immediately sent out here that I was able to spend but one day in her society. I wished to have secured her a pension in case this delightful climate should knock me on the head, but she would not hear of it. Poor girl, I have left her what little fortune I possess, Collins; I could not do less. Those who live on shore at ease can’t say we enjoy too much of the pleasures of home, or don’t earn the Queen’s biscuit. Bless her Majesty!”“I don’t know that, sir. There are, I hear, though I never fell in with any of them, a set of lying traitors at home, who say we are no better than pirates, and want to do away with the navy altogether. If they were to succeed in their roguish projects, there would be an end of Old England altogether, say I.”“They never will succeed, Collins, depend upon that. There is still too much sense left in the country; but if her Majesty’s government were to employ her cruisers in any other part of the world than on this pestiferous coast, the cause of humanity would benefit by the change. For every prize we capture, ten escape, and our being here scarcely raises the price of slaves in the Cuban and Brazilian markets five dollars a head; while the Spaniards and Portuguese, notwithstanding their treaties, do all they can to favour the traffic. Do we gain on the chase, do you think, Collins?”“Not a foot, I fear, sir,” answered the lieutenant. “That brig is a fast craft, and though I don’t believe, as some of the people do, that the skipper has signed a contract with Davy Jones, she is rightly called by them the ‘Black Slaver.’”“If the breeze freshens, we may overhaul her, but if not, she may double on us in the dark, and again get away,” observed the captain. “Take care a bright look-out is kept for’ard.”“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the lieutenant, repeating the order and adjusting his night-glass; “she hasn’t altered her course, at all events.”By this time daylight had totally disappeared, although a pale crescent moon in the clear sky afforded light sufficient for objects to be distinguished at some distance. Few of the officers turned in, but the watch below were ordered to their hammocks to recruit their strength for the services they might be required to perform on the morrow, as Captain Staunton had determined, should the wind fail, to attack the chase in his boats. When the enemy is well-armed and determined, this a very dangerous operation, and in the present instance there could be no doubt that he who commanded the “Black Slaver” would not yield without a desperate resistance. Lookouts were stationed at the mastheads as well as forward, and every eye was employed in endeavouring to keep her in sight—no easy task with the increasing darkness—for a light mist was gradually filling the atmosphere, and the moon itself was sinking into the ocean. The breeze, however, appeared to be increasing; the brig felt its force, and heeled gracefully over to it as the water bubbled and frothed against her bows.“What are the odds we don’t catch her after all?” said young Wildgrave to his messmate; “I hate these long chases, when one never comes up with the enemy.”“So do I,” answered his companion. “But to tell you the truth, I have a presentiment that we shall come up with her this time, and bring her to action too. She has escaped us twice before, and the third time will, I think, be fatal to her. By-the-by, where is she though?”“Fore-yard, there!” sang out the first lieutenant, “can you see the chase?”“I did a moment ago, sir;—no, sir, I can see her nowhere.”A similar answer was returned from the other lookouts. She was nowhere visible.The Slaver.The “Black Slaver” well deserved her name. Her hull was black, without the usual relief of a coloured ribbon; her masts and spars were of the same ebon hue, her cargo was black, and surely her decks were dark as the darkest night. She was a very large vessel, certainly upwards of three hundred tons, and also heavily armed with a long brass gun amidships, and ten long nines in battery, besides small brass swivel-guns mounted on her quarter, to aid in defending her against an attack in boats.Her crew was composed of every nation under the sun, for crime makes all men brothers, but brothers who, Cainlike, were ready any moment to imbrue their hands in each other’s blood; and their costume was as varied as their language—a mixture of that of many nations. A mongrel Spanish, however, was the language in which all orders were issued, as being that spoken by the greater number of the people. She was a very beautiful and powerful vessel, and all the arrangements on board betokened strict attention to nautical discipline. For more than two years she had run her evil career with undeserved success, and her captain and owner was reputed to be a wealthy man, already in possession of several estates in Cuba. Slaving was his most profitable and safe occupation, mixed up with a little piracy, as occasion offered, without fear of detection. Several slavers had unaccountably disappeared, which had certainly not been taken by English cruisers, and others had returned to the coast complaining that they had been robbed of their slaves by a large armed schooner, which had put on board a few bales of coloured cottons, with an order to them to go back and take in a fresh cargo of human beings. The “Espanto” was more than suspected of being the culprit; but she was always so disguised that it was difficult to bring the accusation home to her, while they themselves being illegally employed, could obtain no redress in a court of law.She had for some time been cruising, as usual, in the hopes of picking up a cargo without taking the trouble of looking into the coast for it, when, weary of waiting, and being short of water and provisions, the captain determined to run the risk of procuring one by the usual method.From the ruse practised by the “Sylph,” she was not seen by his lookouts till he was nearly close up to her. He was in no way alarmed, however, for he recognised the British man-of-war, and knowing the respective rate of sailing of the two vessels, felt certain, if the wind held, to be able to walk away from her. To make certain what she was, he had stood on some time after he had first seen her, a circumstance which had, as we mentioned, somewhat surprised Captain Staunton and his officers. Having ascertained that the sail inside of him was the “Sylph,” he hauled his wind, and making all sail, before an hour of the first watch had passed, aided by the darkness, he had completely run her out of sight. When he stood in he had been making for the Pongos River; but being prevented from getting in there, he determined to run for the Coanza River, some forty miles further to the south, before daybreak, and as the mouth is narrow, and entirely concealed by trees, he had many chances in his favour of remaining concealed there while the British man-of-war passed by. A slave-agent, also, of his resided in the neighbourhood, who would be able to supply him at the shortest notice, and at moderate prices, with a cargo of his fellow-beings. At this rendezvous he knew there would be a look-out for him, and that there were pilots ready to assist him in entering the river.“Square the yards and keep her away, Antonio,” he sung out to his first mate, a ferocious-looking mulatto, who was conning the vessel. “We are just abreast of — Point, and Diogo, if he has his eyes open, ought to see us.”The helm was kept up, the yards were squared, and the vessel stood stem on towards the shore.Before long the dark line of a tree-fringed coast was visible, when she was again brought to the wind; her lower sails were furled, and she was hove-to under her topsails.“We must make a signal, or the lazy blacks will never find us out, señor captain,” observed Antonio to his chief.“Yes, we must run the risk: we shall not be in before daylight if we do not, and the enemy will scarcely distinguish from what direction the report of the gun comes. Be smart about it though.”A gun from the lee quarter was accordingly discharged, the dull echoes from which were heard rebounding along the shore, and directly afterwards a blue-light was fired, the bright flame giving a spectre-like appearance to the slaver and her evil-doing crew. They might well have been taken for one of those phantom barks said to cruise about the ocean either to warn mariners of coming danger or to lure them to destruction.Soon afterwards a small light was seen to burst out, as it seemed, from the dark line, and to glide slowly over the water towards them. Gradually it increased, and as it approached nearer, it was seen to proceed from a fire burning in the bow of a large canoe pulled by a dozen black fellows. When it came alongside, two of them scrambled on board, and recognising the captain, welcomed him to the coast. Their language was a curious mixture of Spanish, Portuguese, English, and African.“Ah, señor captain, berry glad you et Espanto, come esta nocha, viento es favoravel, for run up de river Diogo—me vos on the look-out you, sabe.”Having thus delivered himself, the chief pilot went aft to the helm with much the same air as one of his European brethren, habited in Flushing coat and tarpaulin hat, although the only garment he boasted was a blue shirt, secured at the waist by a piece of spun-yarn, and a red handkerchief bound round his head.“Up with the helm, then square away the yards!” sung out the captain, and the vessel, under the direction of the negro, was standing dead on to the apparently unbroken line of dark shore.It required great confidence in the honesty and knowledge of the pilot for the crew not to believe that he was running the schooner on shore, for such a thing had been more than once before done.“Remember,” whispered Antonio, as he passed him, “if the vessel touches, my pistol sends a ball through your head.”“No tien duvida, señor, contremestre,” answered Quacko, quite unmoved by the threat, as being one to which he was well accustomed.“Viento favoravel, rio fundo. Have de anchor pronto to let go.”The bowsprit of the schooner was now almost among the mangrove bushes.“Stivordo!” sung out the pilot.A yellow line of sand was seen over her quarter. This seemed to spring up from the sea on either side, like dark, shapeless phantoms, eager to destroy the slaver’s crew, the spirits of those their cruelty had sent from this world. Taller and taller they grew, for so calmly did the vessel glide on, that she appeared not to move, yet the broad open sea was completely shut out from the view of those on board; a narrow dark line, in which the reflection of a star was here and there visible, was the only water seen as still, on the schooner moved.“Bombordo!” sung out the pilot.The helm was put to port, and the schooner glided into another passage, her yards, as they were squared away or braced up to meet the alterations in her course, almost brushing the branches of the lofty trees. For some minutes more she ran on, till the stream grew suddenly wider, and a little bay, formed by a bend of the shore, appeared on the starboard hand, into which she glided. The anchor was let go, the topsails were furled, and so entirely was she concealed by the overhanging boughs, that a boat might have passed down the centre of the stream without seeing her.At dawn the next morning a busy scene was going on on board and round the slaver. Her crew, aided by a number of negroes, were employed in setting up her rigging and fitting slave-decks, while several canoes were assisting her boats in bringing water and provisions alongside. Thus they were employed without cessation for two days. There was no play, it was all hard, earnest work. It is a pity they were not labouring in a good cause instead of a bad one.In the mean time the King of —, as he was called, in reality the principal slave-dealer and greatest rogue in the district, was collecting the negroes who had been kidnapped by him or his allies, from whom he had bought them in the neighbouring provinces—some as they were quietly fishing in their canoes on the coast, others as they were seated beneath the shade of the palm-tree in their native forest, or were coming from the far interior with a load of oil or ivory, to sell to the nearest trader—untutored savages, who perhaps had never before seen the face of a white man, or the blue dancing ocean. It is no wonder that they paint the Devil white, and believe the sea is the passage to his realms. Eight hundred human beings were thus collected to be conveyed in that fell bark to the Far West, there to wear out their lives in hopeless slavery.The greater part of the fourth day was spent in receiving half the number on board, and stowing them below. This operation was performed by men whose especial trade it is. The unhappy wretches are compelled to sit down with their legs bent under them, so closely packed that they cover but little more space than the length of their feet, between-decks, little more than a yard high; and thus they remain, bolted down to the decks, the whole voyage, a few only being allowed to come up at a time to be aired, while the smallest quantity of water possible is afforded them to quench their burning thirst.The Capture.The work for the day was nearly concluded, and the captain of the slaver was walking by himself beneath the awning spread over the after-part of the deck, when he observed a canoe suddenly dart out of the main stream into the bay where the schooner lay concealed. It was soon alongside, when a black jumped on board.“Señor capitan, you must be pronto,” he said. “Big man-of-war come, big canoe, mucho hombres, come up river.”“Ah, have they found me out?” muttered the captain to himself. “I’ll give them a warm reception if they do come. Very well, Queebo,” he said aloud, “now pull back and watch them narrowly. Take care they don’t see you, and come and report their movements to me.”At a signal all the crew were summoned on board, the awning was handed, boarding-nettings were triced up, the guns were double-shotted and run out, and a thick screen of boughs was carried across the part of the bay so as still further to conceal the schooner from the eye of any stranger. Two guns were also sent on shore and planted in battery, so as to command the entrance of the bay. Every other precaution was likewise taken to avoid discovery; all fires were extinguished, and the blacks were ordered to remove from the neighbourhood.By the time these arrangements had been made, the scout returned to give notice that two boats had entered the river, and were exploring one of the numerous passages of the stream. The captain on this ordered the scout to remain on board, lest he might betray their whereabouts to the enemy. He had no wish to destroy the boats, as so doing would not benefit him; concealment, not fighting, was his object. When night, however, came on, he sent out the scout to gain further intelligence. Scarcely had the man gone, when he returned, and noiselessly stepped on deck.“Hist, señor, hist!” he whispered. “They are close at hand, little dreaming we are near them.”“Whereabouts?” inquired the captain.“On the other side of the long island which divides the middle from the southern stream,” was the substance of the reply.“We’ll attack them then, and either kill or make them all prisoners. They may be useful as hostages,” muttered the captain, and calling Antonio to him, he ordered him to man two boats with the most trustworthy of their people, and carefully to muffle the oars. This done, both boats left the schooner, under his command, in the direction indicated by the scout.They pulled across the channel to a thickly-wooded island indicated by the scout. The negro landed, and in a few minutes came back.“Dere dey are, señor,” he whispered; “you may kill all fast asleep; berry good time now; no make noise.”On hearing this, the slavers, all of whom were armed to the teeth, advanced cautiously across the island, by a path with which Queebo seemed well acquainted. The black pointed between the trees, and there was seen the head of a man, fast asleep in the stern-sheets of a boat. Just then a light rustling noise was heard, and a figure was seen advancing close up to where the slavers were crouching down, ready for the command of their officer to fire.He advanced slowly, looking out for the very path apparently by which they had gained the spot. He reached within almost an arm’s length of the captain. The impulse was irresistible; and before the stranger was aware any one was near him, he was felled to the ground, and a handkerchief was passed over his mouth, so that he could not utter a cry for help. Two other men, who were doing duty as sentinels on shore, were in like manner surprised and gagged, without uttering a sound to alarm the rest. The slavers then advanced close up to the nearest boat, and pouring a volley from their deadly trabucos into her, killed or wounded nearly all her crew. A larger boat was moored at some little distance farther on, and her people being aroused by the firing, they at once shoved off into the stream, which the survivors of the other also succeeded in doing. They then opened a fire on the slavers, but sheltered as they were among the trees, it was ineffectual.The contest was kept up for some time; but reduced in strength as the crews of the boats were, they were at last obliged to retreat, while the slavers returned with their prisoners to the schooner. As the slavers’ boats were left on the other side of the island, which extended for more than a mile towards the sea, they were unable to follow their retreating enemy had they been so inclined; but in fact they did not relish the thought of coming in actual contact with British seamen, as they had good reason in believing the enemy to be, although weakened and dispirited by defeat.When the prisoners, who had not uttered a word, were handed up on deck, the captain ordered lights to be brought, for he had no longer any fear of being discovered. One evidently, by his uniform, was an officer; the other two were seamen. The captain paced the deck in the interval before lights were brought, grinding his teeth and clinching his fists with rage, as he muttered to himself,—“He shall die—he wears that hated uniform: it reminds me of what I once was. Oh, this hell within me! blood must quench its fire.”A seaman now brought aft a lantern; its glare fell as well on the features of the prisoner as on that of the slave captain. Both started.“Staunton!” ejaculated the latter.“Daggerfeldt!” exclaimed the prisoner.“You know me, then?” said the captain of the slaver, bitterly; “it will avail you little, though. I had wished it had been another man; but no matter—you must take your chance.”The slaver’s crew were now thronging aft.“Well, meos amigos,” he continued, in a fierce tone, “what is to be done with these spies? You are the judges, and must decide the case.”“Enforca-los—hang them, hang them—at least the officer. The other two may possibly enter, and they may be of service: we want good seamen to work the vessel, and these English generally are so.”“You hear what your fate is to be,” said Daggerfeldt, turning to Captain Staunton. “You had better prepare for it. You may have some at home to regret your loss. If you have any messages, I will take care to transmit them. It is the only favour I can do you.”While he spoke, a bitter sneer curled his lip, and his voice assumed a taunting tone, which he could not repress.The gallant officer, proud in his consciousness of virtue, confronted the villain boldly.“I would receive no favour, even my life, from one whose very name is a disgrace to humanity. Even if the message I were to send was conveyed correctly, it would be polluted by the bearer. It would be little satisfaction for my friends to know that I was murdered in an African creek by the hands of a rascally slaver.”While Staunton was uttering these words, which he did in very bitterness of spirit, for, knowing the character of the wretch with whom he had to deal, he had not the remotest hope of saving either his own life or that of his people, the rage of Daggerfeldt was rising till it surpassed his control.“Silence!” he thundered, “or I will brain you on the spot!”But Staunton stood unmoved.“Madman, would you thus repay me for the life I saved?” he asked, calmly.“A curse on you for having saved it,” answered the pirate, fiercely, returning his sword, which he had half drawn from its scabbard. “My hand, however, shall not do the deed. Here, Antonio Diogo, here are the spies who wish to interfere in our trade, and would send us all to prison, or to the gallows, if they could catch us.”“The end of a rope and a dance on nothing for the officer, say I,” answered the mulatto mate. “See what his followers will do; speak to them in their own lingo, captain, and ask them whether they choose to walk overboard or join us.”While he was speaking, some of the crew brought aft the two British seamen, with their hands lashed behind them. Others, headed by Antonio, immediately seized Captain Staunton, and led him to the gangway, one of the men running aloft to reeve a rope through the studding-sail sheet-block on the main-yard. Staunton well knew what the preparations meant, but he trembled not; his whole anxiety was for the boats’ crews he had led in the expedition which had ended so unfortunately, and for the two poor fellows whose lives, he feared, were about also to be sacrificed by the miscreants.The British seamen watched what was going forward, and by the convulsive workings of their features, and the exertions they were making to free their arms, were evidently longing to strike a blow to rescue him. Daggerfeldt was better able to confront them than he had been to face Staunton.“You are seamen belonging to a man-of-war outside this river, and you came here to interfere with our affairs?”“You’ve hit it to an affigraphy, my bo’,” answered one of the men, glad, at all events, to get the use of his tongue. “We belongs to her Majesty’s brig ‘Sylph,’ and we came into this here cursed hole to take you or any other slaver we could fall in with; and now you knows what I am, I’ll just tell you what you are—a runaway scoundrel of a piccarooning villain, whom no honest man would consort with, or even speak to, for that matter, except to give him a bit of his mind; and if you’re not drowned, or blown up sky high, you’ll be hung, as you deserve, as sure as you’re as big a rascal as ever breathed. Now, put that in your pipe, my bo’, and smoke it.”While he was thus running on, to the evident satisfaction of his shipmate, who, indifferent to their danger, seemed mightily to enjoy the joke, Daggerfeldt in vain endeavoured to stop him.“Silence!” he shouted, “or you go overboard this moment!”“You must bawl louder than that, my bo’, if you wants to frighten Jack Hopkins, let me tell you,” answered the undaunted seaman. “What is it you want of us? Come, out with it; some villainy, I’ll warrant.”The captain of the slaver ground his teeth with fury, but he dared not kill the man who was bearding him, for he could not explain to his crew the nature of the offence, a very venial one in their eyes, and he wanted some good seamen.“I overlook your insolence,” he answered, restraining his passion. “My crew are your judges. You have been convicted of endeavouring to capture us, and they give you your choice of joining us, or of going overboard; the dark stream alongside swarms with alligators. That fate is too good for your captain: he is to be hung.”“Why, what a cursed idiot you must be to suppose we’d ship with such a pretty set of scoundrels as you and your men are,” answered Jack Hopkins, with a laugh. “I speak for myself and for Bob Short, too. It’s all right, Bob, I suppose?” he said, turning to his companion. “There’s no use shilly-shallying with these blackguards.”“Ay, ay; I’m ready for what you are,” replied Bob Short, who had gained his name from the succinctness of his observations apparently, rather than from his stature, for he was six feet high, while the name by which Jack Hopkins was generally known on board was Peter Palaver, from his inveterate habits of loquacity.“Well, then, look ye here, Mr Daggerfeldt, I knowed you many years ago for an ill-begotten spawn of you knows what, and I knows you now for the biggest scoundrel unhung, so you must just take the compliments I’ve got to give you. Now for the matter of dying, I’d rather die with a brave, noble fellow like our skipper than live in company with a man who has murdered his messmate, has seduced the girl who sheltered him from justice, and would now hang the man who saved his life. Your favours! I’ll have none on ’em.”The fierce pirate and slaver stood abashed before the wild outbreak of the bold sailor, but quickly recovering himself, livid and trembling with rage, he shouted out to his crew—“Heave these fools of Englishmen overboard; they know more of our secrets than they ought, and will not join us. Send this talking fellow first.”“If it comes to that, I can find my tongue too, let me tell you,” exclaimed Bob Short; “you’re a murderous, rascally, thieving—”“Heave them both together,” shouted Daggerfeldt.“Stay,” said Antonio, who was refined in his cruelty; “let them have the pleasure of seeing their captain hang first, since they are so fond of him. He well knows what their fate will be, and perhaps he would rather they went overboard than joined us.”“Do as you like, but let it be done quickly,” answered Daggerfeldt. “I’m sick of this work, and we must be preparing to get out of the river, or their friends will be sending in here to look for us.”Hopkins and Short did not understand a word of this conversation, and finding themselves brought close up to where their captain stood engaged in his devotions, and preparing like a brave man for inevitable death, they believed that they were to share his fate.“Well, I’m blowed if that ain’t more than I expected of the beggars,” whispered Jack Hopkins to his companion; “they’re going to do the thing that’s right after all, and launch us in our last cruise in the same way as the captain.”“Jack, can you pray?” asked Bob Short.“Why, for the matter of that I was never much of a hand at it,” answered Jack; “but when I was a youngster I was taught to thank God for all his mercies, and I do so still. Why do you ask?”“I was thinking as how as the skipper is taking a spell at it, whether we might ask him just to put in a word for us. He knows more about it, and a captain of a man-of-war must have a greater chance of being attended to than one of us, you see, Jack.”Poor Bob could never thus have exerted himself had he not felt that he should only have a few words more to speak in this life. Jack looked at him in surprise.“I’ll ask him, Bob, I’ll ask him; but you know as how the parson says, in the country we are going to all men are equal, and so I suppose we ought to pray for ourselves.”“But we are still in this world, Jack,” argued the other; “Captain Staunton is still our captain, and we are before the mast.”He spoke loud, and Captain Staunton had apparently overheard the conversation, for he smiled and looked towards them. He had been offering up a prayer to the throne on high for mercy for the failings of the two honest fellows, whose ignorance it was now too late to enlighten. Antonio was a pious Catholic, and, villain as he was, he was unwilling not to give the chance of a quiet passage into the other world to his victims.“What are you about there?” shouted Daggerfeldt; “is this work never to end?”“The men are praying, señor, before they slip their cables for eternity,” answered Antonio.“Is there an eternity?” muttered the pirate, and shuddered.On Captain Staunton’s turning his head, on which the light from the lantern fell strongly, Antonio believed it was the signal that he was prepared,—“Hoist away!” he shouted, in Spanish; but at that instant a light female form rushed forth from the cabin, and seizing the whip, held it forcibly down with one hand while she disengaged the noose from the captain’s neck.“Oh, Juan! have you not murders enough on your head already that you must commit another in cold blood?” she exclaimed, turning to Daggerfeldt, “and that other on one who saved your life at the risk of his own. I knew him—before all my misery began, and recognised him at once. If you persist, I leave you; you know me well, I fear not to die; Antonio, you dare not disobey me. Unreeve that rope, and leave me to settle with our captain regarding these men.”The slaver’s crew stood sulky and with frowning aspect around her, yet they in no way interrupted her proceedings, while Daggerfeldt stood a silent spectator in the after-part of the vessel.“Unreeve that rope! again I say,” she exclaimed, stamping on the deck with her foot. The order was obeyed without the captain’s interference. “Your lives are safe for the present,” she said, addressing the Englishmen. “I know that man’s humour, and he dares not now contradict me. I am the only thing who yet clings to him, the only one he thinks who loves him, the only being in whom he can place his trust; that explains my power.” She spoke hurriedly and low, so that Staunton alone could hear her, and there was scorn in her tone. “Cast those men loose,” she continued, turning to the crew, while with her own hands she undid the cords which lashed Staunton’s arms, and as she did so she whispered, “Keep together, and edge towards the arms-chest. There are those on board who will aid me if any attempt is made to injure you.”Saying this she approached the captain of the slaver; she touched his arm: “Juan,” she said, in a softened tone, totally different from that in which she had hitherto spoken; “I am wayward, and have my fancies. I felt certain that your death would immediately follow that of those men. I was asleep in my cabin, and dreamed that you were struggling in the waves, and they, seizing hold of you, were about to drag you down with them.”Daggerfeldt looked down at her as she stood in a supplicating attitude before him. “You are fanciful, Juanetta; but you love me, girl.”“Have I not proved it?” she answered in a tone of sadness; “you will save the lives of these men?”“I tell you I will. We will carry them in chains to Cuba, and there sell them as slaves.”“You must let them go free here,” she answered.“Impossible, Juanetta; do you wish to betray me?” he asked, fiercely. “Go to your cabin. The men shall not be hurt, and they will be better off than the blacks on board.”She was silent, and then retired to her cabin, speaking on her way a word to a negro who stood near the entrance. “Mauro,” she said, “watch those men, and if you observe any signs of treachery, let me know.”The black signified that he comprehended her wishes, and would obey them.The Escape.Captain Staunton and his companions were not allowed to remain long at liberty; for as soon as the lady had retired, at a sign from Daggerfeldt, the slaver’s crew again attempted to lash their arms behind them, not, however, without some resistance on the part of Hopkins and Short. The most zealous in this work was the negro Mauro, who contrived, as he was passing a rope round Captain Staunton’s arm, to whisper in his ear, “Make no resistance, señor, it is useless. You have friends near you. Tell your followers to keep quiet. They can do themselves no good.”Staunton accordingly told his men to follow his example, when they quietly submitted to their fate. Before this, he had contemplated the possibility of their being able to succeed in getting arms from the arms-chest, and either selling their lives dearly, or jumping overboard and attempting to reach the shore. In most slavers the lower deck is devoted entirely to the slaves and the provisions, the men sleeping under a topgallant-forecastle, or sometimes on the open deck, and the captain and mates under the poop deck. There was, therefore, no spare place in which to confine the prisoners, and they were accordingly told to take up their quarters under an awning stretched between two guns in the waist. This was better accommodation than they could have expected, for not only were they sheltered partially from the dew, but were screened from the observation of the crew, and were not subject to the suffocating heat of the between-decks.A night may, however, be more agreeably spent than on a hard plank, up an African river, with a prospect of being sent to feed the alligators in the morning, and the certainty of a long separation from one’s friends and country, not to speak of the nine hundred and ninety-nine chances out of a thousand of one’s losing one’s health, if not one’s life, by the insatiable yellow-fever.The reflections of Captain Staunton were most bitter. He thought not of himself, but of her he had loved so long and faithfully; she would believe him dead, and he knew how poignant would be her grief. He felt sure that she would not be faithless to his memory, but months, even years, might pass before he might escape, or have the means of informing her of his existence. While these ideas were passing through his mind, it was impossible to sleep. There were, too, the midnight noises of the African clime: the croaking of frogs, the chirrup of birds, the howl of wild beasts, the cries, if not of fish, of innumerable amphibious animals of flesh and fowl, and, more than all, the groans and moans of the unhappy beings confined in their noisome sepulchre below; all combined to make a concert sounding as might the distant echoes of Pandemonium. At length, however, towards the morning, nature gave way, and he forgot himself and his unfortunates in slumber. It had not lasted many minutes when he was aroused by a hand placed on his shoulder, while a soft hush was whispered in his ear. At the same time he felt that there was a knife employed in cutting the ropes which bound his arms. Something told him that the person performing this office was a friend, so he did not attempt to speak, but quietly waited to learn what, he was next expected to do. Again the voice whispered in his ear,—“Arouse your companions, if possible, but beware that they do not speak aloud; caution them in their ear as I did you—their heads are near where yours lies.”The voice which spoke, from its silvery tones, Staunton felt certain was that of a female, as was the hand which loosened his bonds. Without hesitation, therefore, he did as he was desired, and putting his mouth down to Hopkins’s ear, he ordered him on his life not to utter a word. Jack was awake in a moment, and alive to the state of affairs. They had more difficulty in arousing Bob Short, who uttered several very treacherous groans and grunts before he was quite awake, though he fortunately did not speak. Had Captain Staunton been aware that a sentry was actually posted outside the screen, he would have trembled for their safety. Fortunately the man was fast asleep, reclining against the bulwarks—a fact ascertained by Jack Hopkins, who poked his head from under the screen to ascertain how the coast lay. Not a sound was heard to give notice that any of the crew were stirring on deck. Staunton, feeling that his best course was to trust implicitly to his unseen guide, waited till he received directions how to proceed. He soon felt himself pulled gently by the arm towards the nearest port, which was sufficiently raised to enable him to pass through it. On putting his head out, he perceived through the obscurity a canoe with a single person in it, hanging on alongside the schooner. His guide dropped noiselessly into it, and took her place in the stern; Staunton cautiously followed, and seating himself in the afterthwart, found a paddle put into his hands; Jack and Bob required no one to tell them what to do, but quickly also took their places in the boat. As soon as they were seated, the man who was first in the canoe shoved her off gently from the side of the schooner; and while the guide directed their course, began to paddle off rapidly towards the centre of the stream. So dexterously did he apply his oar, that not a splash was heard, though the canoe darted quickly along through the ink-like current without leaving even a ripple in her wake. Not a word was uttered by any of the party; every one seemed to be aware of the importance of silence, and even Peter Palaver forebore to cut a joke, which he felt very much inclined to do, as he found himself increasing his distance from the black slaver.The Pursuit.The canoe held her silent course down the dark and mirror-like stream towards the sea. Not a breath of wind moved the leaves of the lofty palm-trees which towered above their heads, casting their tall shadows on the calm waters below, while here and there a star was seen piercing as it were through the thick canopy of branches; the air was hot and oppressive, and a noxious exhalation rose from the muddy banks, whence the tide had run off. Now and then a lazy alligator would run his long snout above the surface of the stream, like some water demon, and again glide noiselessly back into his slimy couch.“Tell your people to take to their paddles and ply them well,” said the guide, in a louder tone than had hitherto been used.Staunton was now certain that it was Juanetta’s voice—that of the lady who had preserved his life.“We are still some distance from the sea, in reaching which is our only chance of safety; for if we are overtaken—and the moment our flight is discovered, we shall be pursued—our death is certain.”The instant Bob and Jack had leave to use their paddles they plied them most vigorously, and the canoe, which had hitherto glided, now sprang, as it were, through the water, throwing up sparkling bubbles on either side of her sharp bows.“Pull on, my brave men,” she exclaimed to herself, more than to the seamen, “every thing depends on our speed. The tide is still making out, and if we can clear the mouth of the river before the flood sets in all will be well.”She spoke in Spanish, a language Staunton understood well. Her eye was meantime turning in every direction as her hand skilfully guided the boat.“There are scouts about who might attempt to stop us if they suspected we were fugitives. I have, however, the pass-word, and can without difficulty mislead them if we encounter any. Your own people, too, may be in the river looking out for the schooner.”“I think not,” answered Staunton. “We had lost one of our boats, and as I am believed dead, my successor (poor fellow, how he will be disappointed!) will, if he acts wisely, not attempt to capture the ‘Espanto’ except with the ‘Sylph’ herself.”“The greater necessity, then, for our getting out to sea. It is already dawn. Observe the red glare bursting through the mist in the eastern sky, just through the vista of palm-trees up that long reach. We shall soon have no longer the friendly darkness to conceal us.”As she was speaking a large canoe was seen gliding calmly up the stream, close in with the bank. The people in her hailed in the negro language, and the man who was first in the canoe promptly answered in the same.“Ask them if they have seen the English man-of-war,” said Juanetta.The negroes answered that she was still riding at anchor off the mouth of the river.“We shall thus be safe if we can reach the open sea,” she observed; “but we have still some miles to row before we can get clear of the treacherous woods which surround us; and perhaps when our flight is discovered, our pursuers may take one of the other channels, and we may find our egress stopped at the very mouth of the stream. This suspense is dreadful.”“We may yet strike a blow for you, and for our own liberty, señora,” answered Staunton. “It was fortunate the obscurity prevented the people in the canoe from discovering us.”“That matters little. No one would venture to stop me but that man, that demon rather in human disguise, Daggerfeldt, as you call him,” she replied, bitterly, pronouncing the name as one to which she was unaccustomed. “Ah, señor; love—ardent, blind, mad love—can be turned to the most deadly hatred. Criminal, lost as I have been, I feel that there is a step further into iniquity, and that step I have refused to take. The scales have fallen from my eyes, and I have seen the enormity of my wickedness, and have discovered the foulness of my wrongs. From his own lips the dreadful information came. In the same breath he acknowledged that he had murdered my father and deceived me. As he slept he told the dreadful tale; the sight of you conjured up the past to his memory; other murders he talked of, and treachery of all sorts attempted. He mocked, too, at me, and at my credulity. I learned also that he still contemplated your destruction as well as mine. I who had preserved his life, who had sacrificed my happiness here and hereafter for his sake, was to be cast off for another lady fairer and younger, so it seemed to me, but I could not understand all his words, for sometimes he spoke in his native language, sometimes in Spanish. Enough was heard to decide me. I had long contemplated quitting him. I knew that it was wrong remaining, but had not strength before to tear asunder my bonds, till the feeling that I might rescue you, and make some slight reparation to heaven for my wickedness, gave me strength to undertake the enterprise. There, señor, you know the reason of your liberation; my trusty Mauro, who has ever been faithful, provided the means.”She spoke in a hurried tone, and her sentences were broken, as if she hesitated to speak of her disgrace and misery, but yet was urged on by an irresistible impulse. Even while she was speaking her eye was on the alert, and her hand continued skilfully to guide the canoe. The stars had gradually disappeared, sinking as it were into a bed of thick leaden-coloured mist, which overspread the narrow arch overhead, while in the east a red glow appeared which melted away as the pale daylight slowly filled the air. It was day, but there was no joyousness in animated nature, or elasticity in the atmosphere, as at that time in other regions. A sombre hue tinted the trees, the water, and the sky; even the chattering of innumerable parrots, and the cries of those caricatures of men, many thousands of obscene monkeys, appeared rather to mock at than to welcome the return of the world to life.The canoe flew rapidly on. Suddenly Juanetta lifted her paddle from the water; her ears were keenly employed.“Hark!” she said, “cease rowing; there is the sound of oars in the water. Ah! it is as I thought. There is a boat endeavouring to cut us off by taking another channel; she is still astern of us though, but we must not slack our exertions.”Captain Staunton redoubled his efforts, as did his men on his telling them they were pursued. After the story he had heard, he was now doubly anxious to rescue the unfortunate girl from the power of the miscreant Daggerfeldt. They now entered a broader reach of the river below the fork, where the channel which Juanetta supposed their pursuers had taken united with the one they were following. They had got some way down it when Staunton observed a large boat emerging from behind the woody screen. Juanetta judged from his eye that he had caught sight of the boat.“Is it as I thought?” she asked, calmly.Staunton told her that he could distinguish a boat, evidently pursuing them, but whether she belonged to his ship or to the slaver, he could not judge.“We must not stay to examine; if we were mistaken we should be lost,” she observed; “but we have the means of defending ourselves—see, I had fire-arms placed in the bottom of the canoe, and here are powder-horns under the seat. Mauro has carefully loaded them, and if they attempt to stop us we must use them.”On they pulled, straining every nerve to the utmost, but the canoe was heavily laden, and the boat gained on them. Staunton trusted that their pursuers might be his own people, but his hope vanished when one of them rose; there was a wreath of smoke, a sharp report, and a bullet flew over their heads and splintered the branch of a tree which grew at the end of a point they were just then doubling.“Aim lower next time, my bo’, if you wish to wing us,” shouted Jack Hopkins, who saw no use in longer keeping silence.“Ah!” exclaimed Juanetta, “the blue sea—we may yet escape.”As she spoke, another shot better aimed took effect on the quarter of the canoe, but did no further injury. It showed, however, that there were good marksmen in the boat intent on mischief, and that they were perilously near already. For some time they were again shut out from their pursuers, but as the latter doubled the last point, they had, too evidently, gained on them.“If any one again rises to fire, you must take also to your arms, señor,” said Juanetta, a shudder passing through her frame; “and if it is he, kill him—kill him without remorse. He has shown none. That rifle at your feet was his—it was always true to its aim.”She had scarcely ceased speaking, when a figure stood up in the boat. It seemed to have the likeness of Daggerfeldt. Staunton seized the rifle to fire—he was too late. Ere he had drawn the trigger, a flash was seen, and Juanetta, with a wild shriek, fell forward into the canoe. Staunton fired; the man who had sent the fatal shot stood unharmed, but the oar of one fell from his grasp, and got entangled with those of the others. This would have enabled the canoe to recover her lost ground, had not Mauro, on seeing his beloved mistress fall, thrown up his paddle, exclaiming that he wished to die with her.“She may yet be saved if you exert yourself,” cried Staunton, in Spanish; “row—for your life row; I will attend to your mistress.”Urged by the officer’s commanding tone, the negro again resumed his paddle. Staunton, still guiding the canoe, raised Juanetta, and placed her back in the stern-sheets—she scarcely breathed. The ball had apparently entered her neck, though no blood was to be seen. He suspected the worst, but dared not utter his fears lest Mauro should again give way to his grief. Several other shots were fired at them from the boat, which was rapidly gaining on them. They were close on the bar, in another moment they would be in clear water.The slaver crew shouted fiercely; again a volley was fired, the balls from which went through and through the sides of the slight canoe, without wounding any one, but making holes for the water to rush in. One more volley would sink them, when a loud cheerful shout rung in their ears, and two boats with the British ensign trailing from the stern were seen pulling rapidly towards them.Jack Hopkins and Bob Short answered the hail; the pirates, too, saw the boats, they ceased rowing, and then pulling round, retraced their course up the river. The canoe, with the rapid current, flew over the bar, and had barely time to get alongside the barge of the “Sylph,” when she was full up to the thwarts. We need not say that his crew welcomed Captain Staunton’s return in safety with shouts of joy, after they had believed him dead.With the strong current then setting out of the river it was found hopeless to follow the slaver’s boat. They were soon alongside the brig.Poor Juanetta was carried carefully to the captain’s cabin, watched earnestly by Mauro. The surgeon examined her wound.“Her hours are numbered,” he said. “No art of mine can save her.”The Action.Calm and treacherously beautiful as was the morning on which Captain Staunton regained his ship, scarcely had she got under way to stand in closer to the mouth of the river, in order to watch more narrowly for the schooner, should she attempt to run out, than a dark cloud was seen rising over the land. It appeared on a sudden, and extended rapidly, till it spread over the whole eastern sky.“I fear that it will not do with the weather we have in prospect to send the boats up the river again to retrieve our defeat, Mr Collins,” said Captain Staunton, pointing to the threatening sky.“I think not, sir, with you,” answered the lieutenant; “in fact, if I may advise, the sooner we shorten sail the better, or we may have it down upon us before we are prepared.”“You are right, Mr Collins; shorten sail as soon as you please,” said the captain.“All hands shorten sail,” was sung along the decks.“Aloft there”—“Lay out”—“Be smart about it”—“In with every thing”—“Let fly”—“Haul down”—“Brail up”—“Be smart, it will be down upon us thick and strong, in a moment”—“Up with the helm”—“Look out there aloft”—“Be smart, my lads.”Such were the different orders issued, and exclamations uttered in succession by the officers.A moment before, the sea was smooth as glass, and the brig had scarcely steerage-way. Now the loud roaring of the angry blast was heard, and the flapping of the yet unfolded canvas against the masts; the ocean was a sheet of white foam, and the sky a canopy of inky hue. Away the brig flew before it, leaving the land astern, her sails were closely furled, and she remained unharmed, not a spar was sprung, not a rope carried away, not a sail injured. Thus she flew on under bare poles till the squall subsided as quickly as it had arisen, and sail was again made to recover the ground they had lost.Land was still visible, blue and indistinct, but many fears were naturally entertained lest the slaver, which had already given them so much trouble, should have got out of the river with her living cargo, and by keeping either way along shore, have escaped them. For some minutes the wind entirely failed, and curses loud and deep were uttered at their ill luck, when, as if to rebuke them for their discontent, the fine fresh sea-breeze set in, and, with a flowing sheet, carried them gayly along.Every eye was employed in looking out for the slaver, for they could not suppose she would have lost the opportunity of getting out during their absence. They were not kept long in suspense.“A sail on the starboard bow,” cried the look-out from the masthead.“What is she like?” asked the first lieutenant.“A schooner, sir. The slaver, sir, as we chased afore,” answered the seaman, his anxiety that she should be so making him fancy he could not be mistaken.“The fellow must have sharp eyes indeed to know her at this distance,” muttered the lieutenant to himself with a smile; “however, I suppose he’s right. We must not, though, be chasing the wrong craft while the enemy is escaping. Which way is she standing?” he asked.“To the southward, sir, with every stitch of canvas she can carry,” was the answer.The officer made the proper official report to the captain.“We must be after her at all events,” said Captain Staunton. “Haul up, Mr Collins, in chase. Send Mr Stevenson away in the barge to watch the mouth of the river.”The brig was forthwith brought to the wind, the barge in a very short space of time was launched and manned with a stout crew well-armed and provisioned, and she shoved off to perform her duty, while the “Sylph” followed the strange sail. The man-of-war had evidently an advantage over the stranger, for while the sea-breeze in the offing blew fresh and steady, in-shore it was light and variable.On perceiving this, Captain Staunton kept his brig still nearer to the wind, and ran down, close-hauled, along the coast, thus keeping the strength of the wind, and coming up hand over hand with the stranger, who lay at times almost becalmed under the land. The breeze, however, before they came abreast of her reached her also, and away she flew like a startled hare just aroused from sleep.“Fire a gun to bring her to,” exclaimed the captain; “she shall have no reason to mistake our intentions.”The British ensign was run up, and a gun was discharged, but to no effect. Two others followed, which only caused her to make more sail; and by her luffing closer up to the wind, she apparently hoped to weather on them, and cross their bows. She was a large schooner, and by the way sail was made on her, probably strongly-handed, so that there could be little doubt that she was the vessel for which they were in search.“Send a shot into the fellow,” exclaimed the captain; “that will prove we are in earnest, and make him show his colours.”The shot clearly hit the schooner, although the range was somewhat long, but it did slight damage. It had the effect though of making him show his ensign, and the stripes and stars of the United States streamed out to the breeze.“Those are not the fellow’s colours, I’ll swear,” said Mr Collins, as he looked through his glass. “Another shot will teach him we are not to be humbugged.”“Give it him, Collins, and see if you can knock away any of his spars,” said the captain. “We must follow that fellow round the world till we bring him to action, and take or sink him. He’ll not heave-to for us, depend upon that.”“Not if Daggerfeldt is the captain,” answered the first lieutenant.“I think she is his schooner; but he is so continually altering her appearance that it is difficult to be quite certain.”“Though I was some hours on board of her, as I reached her in the dark, and left her before it was light, I cannot be certain,” observed Captain Staunton, as he took a turn on the quarter-deck with his officer. “By the by, there is that poor girl’s black attendant; he will know the vessel at all events. Tell him to come up and give us his opinion.”The lieutenant went into the captain’s cabin, and soon after returned, observing,—“He will not quit his mistress, sir; and the surgeon tells me he has sat by her side without stirring, watching every movement of her lips as a mother does her only child. As no one on board can speak his language but you, sir, we cannot make him understand why he is wanted on deck.”“Oh, I forgot that: I will speak to him myself,” answered the captain. “Keep firing at the chase till she heaves-to, and then see that she does not play us any trick. Daggerfeldt is up to every thing.”Captain Staunton descended to his cabin. Juanetta lay on the sofa, a sheet thrown over her limbs, her countenance of a corpse-like hue, but by the slight movements of her lips she still breathed. The black hung over her, applying a handkerchief to her brow to wipe away the cold damps gathering there. Her features, though slightly sunk, as seen in the subdued light of the cabin, seemed like those of some beautiful statue rather than of a living being. The surgeon stood at the head of the couch, endeavouring to stop the haemorrhage from the wound.“I dare not probe for the ball,” he whispered, as if the dying girl could understand him; “it would only add to her torture, and I cannot prolong her life.”“And this is thy handiwork, Daggerfeldt—another victim of thy unholy passions,” muttered the captain, as he gazed at her for a moment. “Poor girl, we will avenge thee!”He had considerable difficulty in persuading Mauro to quit his mistress; but at length the faithful black allowed himself to be led on deck. He looked round, at first bewildered, as if unconscious where he was; but when his eye fell on the schooner, it brightened up, as if meeting an object with which it was familiar, and a fierce expression took possession of his countenance.“Es ella, es ella, señor!” he exclaimed, vehemently. “It is she, it is she—fire, fire—kill him, kill him, he has slain my mistress!”A gun was just then discharged, the shot struck the quarter of the schooner, and the white splinters were seen flying from it. On seeing this he shouted with savage joy, clapped his hands, and spat in the direction of the slaver, exhibiting every other sign he could think of, of hatred and rage. Having thus given way to his feelings, the recollection of his mistress returned, and with a groan of anguish he rushed down below.The two vessels had been gradually drawing closer to each other, in consequence of the schooner luffing up to endeavour to cross the bows of the brig, and if she could, to get to windward of her, the only chance she had of escaping. The eyes of the officers were fixed on her to watch her movements.“She’s about—all right!” shouted the captain. “Give her a broadside while she is in stays, and knock away some of her spars. Fire high, my lads, so as not to hurt her hull.”The brig discharged her whole larboard battery, and the fore-topmast of the schooner was seen tumbling below.“By Jingo, we’ve dished him!” exclaimed Jack Hopkins, to his chum, Bob Short; “and I’m blowed, Bob, if it wasn’t my shot did that ere for him. I never lost sight of it till it struck.”“Maybe,” answered Bob; “hard to prove, though.”The schooner had sufficient way on her to bring her round before the topmast fell, and she was now brought into a position partially to rake the brig, though at the distance the two vessels were from each other, the aim was very uncertain.That Daggerfeldt had determined to fight his vessel was now evident, for the flag of the United States being hauled down, that of Spain was run up in its stead, and at the same moment a broadside was let fly from the schooner. The shot came whizzing over and about the brig, but one only struck her, carrying away the side of a port, a splinter from which slightly wounded Bob Short in the leg.“Ough!” exclaimed Bob, quietly binding his handkerchief round the limb without quitting his post, “they’re uncivil blackguards.”“Never mind, Bob,” said Jack Hopkins, “we’ll soon have an opportunity of giving them something in return. See, by Jingo, we’ve shot away his forestay! we’ll have his foremast down in a jiffy. Huzza, my boys, let’s try what we can do!”Whether Jack’s gun was well aimed it is difficult to say, but at all events the shot from the brig told with considerable effect on the rigging of the schooner. The brig did not altogether escape from the fire of the enemy, who worked his guns rapidly; but whenever a brace was shot away it was quickly again rove, so that she was always kept well under command. The loss of her fore-topmast made the escape of the schooner hopeless, unless she could equally cripple her pursuer; but that she had not contrived to do, and accordingly, as the two vessels drew closer together, the fire from each took more effect. Daggerfeldt, to do him justice, did all a seaman could do, and in a very short space of time the wreck of his topmast was cleared away, and he was preparing to get up a new one in its place. The sea was perfectly smooth, and the wind gradually fell till there was scarcely enough to blow away the smoke from the guns of the combatants, which in thick curling wreaths surrounded them, till at intervals only could the adjacent land and the ocean be seen.Although Daggerfeldt could scarcely have hoped to succeed either in escaping or coming off the victor, he still refused to haul down his colours, even when the “Sylph,” shooting past ahead of him, poured in her whole broadside, sweeping his decks, and killing and wounding several of his people. Dreadful were the shrieks which arose from the poor affrighted wretches confined below, although none of them were injured. The “Sylph” then wore round, and, passing under her stern, gave her another broadside, and then luffing up, ran her alongside—the grappling-irons were hove on board, and she was secured in a deadly embrace. The miserable blacks, believing that every moment was to be their last, again uttered loud cries of horror; but the slaver’s crew, some of whom fought with halters round their necks, still refused to yield, and, with cutlass in hand, seemed prepared to defend their vessel to the last, as the British seamen, led on by their captain, leaped upon the decks. Staunton endeavoured to single out Daggerfeldt, but he could nowhere distinguish him; and after a severe struggle, in which several of the Spaniards were killed, he fought his way aft, and hauled down the colours.At that instant a female form, with a white robe thrown around her, was seen standing on the deck of the brig; the crew of the slaver also saw her, and, believing her to be a spirit of another world, fancied she had come to warn them of their fate. The energies of many were paralysed, and some threw down their arms and begged for quarter. A loud, piercing shriek was heard.“I am avenged, I am avenged!” she cried, and sank upon the deck.It was Juanetta. Mauro, who had followed her from the cabin, threw himself by her side, and wrung his hands in despair. They raised up her head, and the surgeon felt her pulse. She had ceased to breathe.No further resistance was offered by the crew of the slaver. Eight hundred human beings—men, women, and children—were found stowed below, wedged so closely together, that none could move without disturbing his neighbour. Some had actually died from sheer fright at the noise of the cannonading.Instant search was made for Daggerfeldt; he was nowhere to be found, and the crew either could not or would not give any information respecting him. The prize was carried safely to Sierra Leone, where she was condemned; the slaves were liberated, and became colonists; and Captain Staunton, and his officers and crew, got a handsome share of prize-money.The “Sylph” was in the following month recalled home, and a few weeks afterward the papers announced the marriage of Captain Staunton, RN, to Miss Blanche D’Aubigné.

We left her Britannic Majesty’s brig “Sylph” in chase of a strange sail on the coast of Africa. The wind was from the westward, and she was standing on a bowline to the southward, with the coast clearly seen broad on the lee-beam. Captain Staunton ordered every expedient he could think of to be tried to increase the speed of his vessel, for the stranger was evidently a very fast sailer, though it was at first difficult to say whether or not she was increasing her distance from them. At all events, the British crew soon saw that it would be hopeless to expect to come up with the stranger before dark, for the sun was just sinking below the horizon, and the thick mists were already rising over the wooded shore, and yet they appeared to be no nearer to her than they were when they first made sail in chase. It was a magnificent sailing breeze, just sufficient for both vessels to carry their topgallant-sails and royals without fear of springing their spars, and the sea was perfectly smooth, merely rippled over by the playful wind. Indeed, as the two vessels glided proudly along over the calm waters, they appeared rather to be engaged in some friendly race than anxious to lead each other to destruction. All the officers of the “Sylph” were on deck with their glasses constantly at their eyes, as the last rays of the sun tinged the royals of the chase, and so clearly was every spar and rope defined through that pure atmosphere, that it was difficult to believe that she was not within range of their guns. Captain Staunton and his first lieutenant walked together on the weather-side of the deck.

“Do you think she is the ‘Espanto,’ Mr Collins?” asked the captain.

“I have no doubt about it, sir,” answered the officer addressed. “I watched her narrowly when we chased her off Loanda the last time she was on the coast, and I pulled round her several times when she lay in the harbour of St. Jago da Cuba, just a year and a half ago.”

“She has had a long run of iniquity,” said the captain; “two years our cruisers have been on the look-out for her, and have never yet been able to overhaul her.”

“That Daggerfeldt must be a desperate villain, if report speaks true,” observed the lieutenant; “I think, sir, you seemed to say you once knew him.”

“I did, to my cost,” answered Captain Staunton; “that man’s life has been a tissue of treachery and deceit from his earliest days. He once disgraced our noble service. He murdered a shipmate and ran from his ship on the coast of America. It was reported for some time that he was dead, by his clothes having been found torn and bloody on the shore, and his family, fortunately for them, believed the story. It was, however, afterwards discovered that he had been sheltered by a Spanish girl, and, in gratitude for his preservation, he carried her off, robbed her father of all his wealth, and either frightened him to death or smothered him. The unhappy girl has, it is said, ever since sailed with him, and it is to be hoped she is not aware of the enormity of his guilt. Pirate and slaver, he has committed every atrocity human nature is capable of.”

“A very perfect scoundrel, in truth, sir,” answered Mr Collins. “It was said, too, I remember, that he was going to marry a very beautiful girl in England. What an escape for her!”

“No, he was not going to marry her!” exclaimed the captain, with unusual vehemence. “Her father, perhaps, wished it, but she would never have consented. Collins, you are my friend, and I will tell you the truth. That lady, Blanche D’Aubigné, was engaged to me, and never would have broken her faith to me while she believed me alive. By a series of forgeries, Daggerfeldt endeavoured to persuade her that I was false to her, though she would not believe him. On my return home she is to become my wife. We were to have married directly I got my promotion, but I was so immediately sent out here that I was able to spend but one day in her society. I wished to have secured her a pension in case this delightful climate should knock me on the head, but she would not hear of it. Poor girl, I have left her what little fortune I possess, Collins; I could not do less. Those who live on shore at ease can’t say we enjoy too much of the pleasures of home, or don’t earn the Queen’s biscuit. Bless her Majesty!”

“I don’t know that, sir. There are, I hear, though I never fell in with any of them, a set of lying traitors at home, who say we are no better than pirates, and want to do away with the navy altogether. If they were to succeed in their roguish projects, there would be an end of Old England altogether, say I.”

“They never will succeed, Collins, depend upon that. There is still too much sense left in the country; but if her Majesty’s government were to employ her cruisers in any other part of the world than on this pestiferous coast, the cause of humanity would benefit by the change. For every prize we capture, ten escape, and our being here scarcely raises the price of slaves in the Cuban and Brazilian markets five dollars a head; while the Spaniards and Portuguese, notwithstanding their treaties, do all they can to favour the traffic. Do we gain on the chase, do you think, Collins?”

“Not a foot, I fear, sir,” answered the lieutenant. “That brig is a fast craft, and though I don’t believe, as some of the people do, that the skipper has signed a contract with Davy Jones, she is rightly called by them the ‘Black Slaver.’”

“If the breeze freshens, we may overhaul her, but if not, she may double on us in the dark, and again get away,” observed the captain. “Take care a bright look-out is kept for’ard.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” answered the lieutenant, repeating the order and adjusting his night-glass; “she hasn’t altered her course, at all events.”

By this time daylight had totally disappeared, although a pale crescent moon in the clear sky afforded light sufficient for objects to be distinguished at some distance. Few of the officers turned in, but the watch below were ordered to their hammocks to recruit their strength for the services they might be required to perform on the morrow, as Captain Staunton had determined, should the wind fail, to attack the chase in his boats. When the enemy is well-armed and determined, this a very dangerous operation, and in the present instance there could be no doubt that he who commanded the “Black Slaver” would not yield without a desperate resistance. Lookouts were stationed at the mastheads as well as forward, and every eye was employed in endeavouring to keep her in sight—no easy task with the increasing darkness—for a light mist was gradually filling the atmosphere, and the moon itself was sinking into the ocean. The breeze, however, appeared to be increasing; the brig felt its force, and heeled gracefully over to it as the water bubbled and frothed against her bows.

“What are the odds we don’t catch her after all?” said young Wildgrave to his messmate; “I hate these long chases, when one never comes up with the enemy.”

“So do I,” answered his companion. “But to tell you the truth, I have a presentiment that we shall come up with her this time, and bring her to action too. She has escaped us twice before, and the third time will, I think, be fatal to her. By-the-by, where is she though?”

“Fore-yard, there!” sang out the first lieutenant, “can you see the chase?”

“I did a moment ago, sir;—no, sir, I can see her nowhere.”

A similar answer was returned from the other lookouts. She was nowhere visible.

The “Black Slaver” well deserved her name. Her hull was black, without the usual relief of a coloured ribbon; her masts and spars were of the same ebon hue, her cargo was black, and surely her decks were dark as the darkest night. She was a very large vessel, certainly upwards of three hundred tons, and also heavily armed with a long brass gun amidships, and ten long nines in battery, besides small brass swivel-guns mounted on her quarter, to aid in defending her against an attack in boats.

Her crew was composed of every nation under the sun, for crime makes all men brothers, but brothers who, Cainlike, were ready any moment to imbrue their hands in each other’s blood; and their costume was as varied as their language—a mixture of that of many nations. A mongrel Spanish, however, was the language in which all orders were issued, as being that spoken by the greater number of the people. She was a very beautiful and powerful vessel, and all the arrangements on board betokened strict attention to nautical discipline. For more than two years she had run her evil career with undeserved success, and her captain and owner was reputed to be a wealthy man, already in possession of several estates in Cuba. Slaving was his most profitable and safe occupation, mixed up with a little piracy, as occasion offered, without fear of detection. Several slavers had unaccountably disappeared, which had certainly not been taken by English cruisers, and others had returned to the coast complaining that they had been robbed of their slaves by a large armed schooner, which had put on board a few bales of coloured cottons, with an order to them to go back and take in a fresh cargo of human beings. The “Espanto” was more than suspected of being the culprit; but she was always so disguised that it was difficult to bring the accusation home to her, while they themselves being illegally employed, could obtain no redress in a court of law.

She had for some time been cruising, as usual, in the hopes of picking up a cargo without taking the trouble of looking into the coast for it, when, weary of waiting, and being short of water and provisions, the captain determined to run the risk of procuring one by the usual method.

From the ruse practised by the “Sylph,” she was not seen by his lookouts till he was nearly close up to her. He was in no way alarmed, however, for he recognised the British man-of-war, and knowing the respective rate of sailing of the two vessels, felt certain, if the wind held, to be able to walk away from her. To make certain what she was, he had stood on some time after he had first seen her, a circumstance which had, as we mentioned, somewhat surprised Captain Staunton and his officers. Having ascertained that the sail inside of him was the “Sylph,” he hauled his wind, and making all sail, before an hour of the first watch had passed, aided by the darkness, he had completely run her out of sight. When he stood in he had been making for the Pongos River; but being prevented from getting in there, he determined to run for the Coanza River, some forty miles further to the south, before daybreak, and as the mouth is narrow, and entirely concealed by trees, he had many chances in his favour of remaining concealed there while the British man-of-war passed by. A slave-agent, also, of his resided in the neighbourhood, who would be able to supply him at the shortest notice, and at moderate prices, with a cargo of his fellow-beings. At this rendezvous he knew there would be a look-out for him, and that there were pilots ready to assist him in entering the river.

“Square the yards and keep her away, Antonio,” he sung out to his first mate, a ferocious-looking mulatto, who was conning the vessel. “We are just abreast of — Point, and Diogo, if he has his eyes open, ought to see us.”

The helm was kept up, the yards were squared, and the vessel stood stem on towards the shore.

Before long the dark line of a tree-fringed coast was visible, when she was again brought to the wind; her lower sails were furled, and she was hove-to under her topsails.

“We must make a signal, or the lazy blacks will never find us out, señor captain,” observed Antonio to his chief.

“Yes, we must run the risk: we shall not be in before daylight if we do not, and the enemy will scarcely distinguish from what direction the report of the gun comes. Be smart about it though.”

A gun from the lee quarter was accordingly discharged, the dull echoes from which were heard rebounding along the shore, and directly afterwards a blue-light was fired, the bright flame giving a spectre-like appearance to the slaver and her evil-doing crew. They might well have been taken for one of those phantom barks said to cruise about the ocean either to warn mariners of coming danger or to lure them to destruction.

Soon afterwards a small light was seen to burst out, as it seemed, from the dark line, and to glide slowly over the water towards them. Gradually it increased, and as it approached nearer, it was seen to proceed from a fire burning in the bow of a large canoe pulled by a dozen black fellows. When it came alongside, two of them scrambled on board, and recognising the captain, welcomed him to the coast. Their language was a curious mixture of Spanish, Portuguese, English, and African.

“Ah, señor captain, berry glad you et Espanto, come esta nocha, viento es favoravel, for run up de river Diogo—me vos on the look-out you, sabe.”

Having thus delivered himself, the chief pilot went aft to the helm with much the same air as one of his European brethren, habited in Flushing coat and tarpaulin hat, although the only garment he boasted was a blue shirt, secured at the waist by a piece of spun-yarn, and a red handkerchief bound round his head.

“Up with the helm, then square away the yards!” sung out the captain, and the vessel, under the direction of the negro, was standing dead on to the apparently unbroken line of dark shore.

It required great confidence in the honesty and knowledge of the pilot for the crew not to believe that he was running the schooner on shore, for such a thing had been more than once before done.

“Remember,” whispered Antonio, as he passed him, “if the vessel touches, my pistol sends a ball through your head.”

“No tien duvida, señor, contremestre,” answered Quacko, quite unmoved by the threat, as being one to which he was well accustomed.

“Viento favoravel, rio fundo. Have de anchor pronto to let go.”

The bowsprit of the schooner was now almost among the mangrove bushes.

“Stivordo!” sung out the pilot.

A yellow line of sand was seen over her quarter. This seemed to spring up from the sea on either side, like dark, shapeless phantoms, eager to destroy the slaver’s crew, the spirits of those their cruelty had sent from this world. Taller and taller they grew, for so calmly did the vessel glide on, that she appeared not to move, yet the broad open sea was completely shut out from the view of those on board; a narrow dark line, in which the reflection of a star was here and there visible, was the only water seen as still, on the schooner moved.

“Bombordo!” sung out the pilot.

The helm was put to port, and the schooner glided into another passage, her yards, as they were squared away or braced up to meet the alterations in her course, almost brushing the branches of the lofty trees. For some minutes more she ran on, till the stream grew suddenly wider, and a little bay, formed by a bend of the shore, appeared on the starboard hand, into which she glided. The anchor was let go, the topsails were furled, and so entirely was she concealed by the overhanging boughs, that a boat might have passed down the centre of the stream without seeing her.

At dawn the next morning a busy scene was going on on board and round the slaver. Her crew, aided by a number of negroes, were employed in setting up her rigging and fitting slave-decks, while several canoes were assisting her boats in bringing water and provisions alongside. Thus they were employed without cessation for two days. There was no play, it was all hard, earnest work. It is a pity they were not labouring in a good cause instead of a bad one.

In the mean time the King of —, as he was called, in reality the principal slave-dealer and greatest rogue in the district, was collecting the negroes who had been kidnapped by him or his allies, from whom he had bought them in the neighbouring provinces—some as they were quietly fishing in their canoes on the coast, others as they were seated beneath the shade of the palm-tree in their native forest, or were coming from the far interior with a load of oil or ivory, to sell to the nearest trader—untutored savages, who perhaps had never before seen the face of a white man, or the blue dancing ocean. It is no wonder that they paint the Devil white, and believe the sea is the passage to his realms. Eight hundred human beings were thus collected to be conveyed in that fell bark to the Far West, there to wear out their lives in hopeless slavery.

The greater part of the fourth day was spent in receiving half the number on board, and stowing them below. This operation was performed by men whose especial trade it is. The unhappy wretches are compelled to sit down with their legs bent under them, so closely packed that they cover but little more space than the length of their feet, between-decks, little more than a yard high; and thus they remain, bolted down to the decks, the whole voyage, a few only being allowed to come up at a time to be aired, while the smallest quantity of water possible is afforded them to quench their burning thirst.

The work for the day was nearly concluded, and the captain of the slaver was walking by himself beneath the awning spread over the after-part of the deck, when he observed a canoe suddenly dart out of the main stream into the bay where the schooner lay concealed. It was soon alongside, when a black jumped on board.

“Señor capitan, you must be pronto,” he said. “Big man-of-war come, big canoe, mucho hombres, come up river.”

“Ah, have they found me out?” muttered the captain to himself. “I’ll give them a warm reception if they do come. Very well, Queebo,” he said aloud, “now pull back and watch them narrowly. Take care they don’t see you, and come and report their movements to me.”

At a signal all the crew were summoned on board, the awning was handed, boarding-nettings were triced up, the guns were double-shotted and run out, and a thick screen of boughs was carried across the part of the bay so as still further to conceal the schooner from the eye of any stranger. Two guns were also sent on shore and planted in battery, so as to command the entrance of the bay. Every other precaution was likewise taken to avoid discovery; all fires were extinguished, and the blacks were ordered to remove from the neighbourhood.

By the time these arrangements had been made, the scout returned to give notice that two boats had entered the river, and were exploring one of the numerous passages of the stream. The captain on this ordered the scout to remain on board, lest he might betray their whereabouts to the enemy. He had no wish to destroy the boats, as so doing would not benefit him; concealment, not fighting, was his object. When night, however, came on, he sent out the scout to gain further intelligence. Scarcely had the man gone, when he returned, and noiselessly stepped on deck.

“Hist, señor, hist!” he whispered. “They are close at hand, little dreaming we are near them.”

“Whereabouts?” inquired the captain.

“On the other side of the long island which divides the middle from the southern stream,” was the substance of the reply.

“We’ll attack them then, and either kill or make them all prisoners. They may be useful as hostages,” muttered the captain, and calling Antonio to him, he ordered him to man two boats with the most trustworthy of their people, and carefully to muffle the oars. This done, both boats left the schooner, under his command, in the direction indicated by the scout.

They pulled across the channel to a thickly-wooded island indicated by the scout. The negro landed, and in a few minutes came back.

“Dere dey are, señor,” he whispered; “you may kill all fast asleep; berry good time now; no make noise.”

On hearing this, the slavers, all of whom were armed to the teeth, advanced cautiously across the island, by a path with which Queebo seemed well acquainted. The black pointed between the trees, and there was seen the head of a man, fast asleep in the stern-sheets of a boat. Just then a light rustling noise was heard, and a figure was seen advancing close up to where the slavers were crouching down, ready for the command of their officer to fire.

He advanced slowly, looking out for the very path apparently by which they had gained the spot. He reached within almost an arm’s length of the captain. The impulse was irresistible; and before the stranger was aware any one was near him, he was felled to the ground, and a handkerchief was passed over his mouth, so that he could not utter a cry for help. Two other men, who were doing duty as sentinels on shore, were in like manner surprised and gagged, without uttering a sound to alarm the rest. The slavers then advanced close up to the nearest boat, and pouring a volley from their deadly trabucos into her, killed or wounded nearly all her crew. A larger boat was moored at some little distance farther on, and her people being aroused by the firing, they at once shoved off into the stream, which the survivors of the other also succeeded in doing. They then opened a fire on the slavers, but sheltered as they were among the trees, it was ineffectual.

The contest was kept up for some time; but reduced in strength as the crews of the boats were, they were at last obliged to retreat, while the slavers returned with their prisoners to the schooner. As the slavers’ boats were left on the other side of the island, which extended for more than a mile towards the sea, they were unable to follow their retreating enemy had they been so inclined; but in fact they did not relish the thought of coming in actual contact with British seamen, as they had good reason in believing the enemy to be, although weakened and dispirited by defeat.

When the prisoners, who had not uttered a word, were handed up on deck, the captain ordered lights to be brought, for he had no longer any fear of being discovered. One evidently, by his uniform, was an officer; the other two were seamen. The captain paced the deck in the interval before lights were brought, grinding his teeth and clinching his fists with rage, as he muttered to himself,—

“He shall die—he wears that hated uniform: it reminds me of what I once was. Oh, this hell within me! blood must quench its fire.”

A seaman now brought aft a lantern; its glare fell as well on the features of the prisoner as on that of the slave captain. Both started.

“Staunton!” ejaculated the latter.

“Daggerfeldt!” exclaimed the prisoner.

“You know me, then?” said the captain of the slaver, bitterly; “it will avail you little, though. I had wished it had been another man; but no matter—you must take your chance.”

The slaver’s crew were now thronging aft.

“Well, meos amigos,” he continued, in a fierce tone, “what is to be done with these spies? You are the judges, and must decide the case.”

“Enforca-los—hang them, hang them—at least the officer. The other two may possibly enter, and they may be of service: we want good seamen to work the vessel, and these English generally are so.”

“You hear what your fate is to be,” said Daggerfeldt, turning to Captain Staunton. “You had better prepare for it. You may have some at home to regret your loss. If you have any messages, I will take care to transmit them. It is the only favour I can do you.”

While he spoke, a bitter sneer curled his lip, and his voice assumed a taunting tone, which he could not repress.

The gallant officer, proud in his consciousness of virtue, confronted the villain boldly.

“I would receive no favour, even my life, from one whose very name is a disgrace to humanity. Even if the message I were to send was conveyed correctly, it would be polluted by the bearer. It would be little satisfaction for my friends to know that I was murdered in an African creek by the hands of a rascally slaver.”

While Staunton was uttering these words, which he did in very bitterness of spirit, for, knowing the character of the wretch with whom he had to deal, he had not the remotest hope of saving either his own life or that of his people, the rage of Daggerfeldt was rising till it surpassed his control.

“Silence!” he thundered, “or I will brain you on the spot!”

But Staunton stood unmoved.

“Madman, would you thus repay me for the life I saved?” he asked, calmly.

“A curse on you for having saved it,” answered the pirate, fiercely, returning his sword, which he had half drawn from its scabbard. “My hand, however, shall not do the deed. Here, Antonio Diogo, here are the spies who wish to interfere in our trade, and would send us all to prison, or to the gallows, if they could catch us.”

“The end of a rope and a dance on nothing for the officer, say I,” answered the mulatto mate. “See what his followers will do; speak to them in their own lingo, captain, and ask them whether they choose to walk overboard or join us.”

While he was speaking, some of the crew brought aft the two British seamen, with their hands lashed behind them. Others, headed by Antonio, immediately seized Captain Staunton, and led him to the gangway, one of the men running aloft to reeve a rope through the studding-sail sheet-block on the main-yard. Staunton well knew what the preparations meant, but he trembled not; his whole anxiety was for the boats’ crews he had led in the expedition which had ended so unfortunately, and for the two poor fellows whose lives, he feared, were about also to be sacrificed by the miscreants.

The British seamen watched what was going forward, and by the convulsive workings of their features, and the exertions they were making to free their arms, were evidently longing to strike a blow to rescue him. Daggerfeldt was better able to confront them than he had been to face Staunton.

“You are seamen belonging to a man-of-war outside this river, and you came here to interfere with our affairs?”

“You’ve hit it to an affigraphy, my bo’,” answered one of the men, glad, at all events, to get the use of his tongue. “We belongs to her Majesty’s brig ‘Sylph,’ and we came into this here cursed hole to take you or any other slaver we could fall in with; and now you knows what I am, I’ll just tell you what you are—a runaway scoundrel of a piccarooning villain, whom no honest man would consort with, or even speak to, for that matter, except to give him a bit of his mind; and if you’re not drowned, or blown up sky high, you’ll be hung, as you deserve, as sure as you’re as big a rascal as ever breathed. Now, put that in your pipe, my bo’, and smoke it.”

While he was thus running on, to the evident satisfaction of his shipmate, who, indifferent to their danger, seemed mightily to enjoy the joke, Daggerfeldt in vain endeavoured to stop him.

“Silence!” he shouted, “or you go overboard this moment!”

“You must bawl louder than that, my bo’, if you wants to frighten Jack Hopkins, let me tell you,” answered the undaunted seaman. “What is it you want of us? Come, out with it; some villainy, I’ll warrant.”

The captain of the slaver ground his teeth with fury, but he dared not kill the man who was bearding him, for he could not explain to his crew the nature of the offence, a very venial one in their eyes, and he wanted some good seamen.

“I overlook your insolence,” he answered, restraining his passion. “My crew are your judges. You have been convicted of endeavouring to capture us, and they give you your choice of joining us, or of going overboard; the dark stream alongside swarms with alligators. That fate is too good for your captain: he is to be hung.”

“Why, what a cursed idiot you must be to suppose we’d ship with such a pretty set of scoundrels as you and your men are,” answered Jack Hopkins, with a laugh. “I speak for myself and for Bob Short, too. It’s all right, Bob, I suppose?” he said, turning to his companion. “There’s no use shilly-shallying with these blackguards.”

“Ay, ay; I’m ready for what you are,” replied Bob Short, who had gained his name from the succinctness of his observations apparently, rather than from his stature, for he was six feet high, while the name by which Jack Hopkins was generally known on board was Peter Palaver, from his inveterate habits of loquacity.

“Well, then, look ye here, Mr Daggerfeldt, I knowed you many years ago for an ill-begotten spawn of you knows what, and I knows you now for the biggest scoundrel unhung, so you must just take the compliments I’ve got to give you. Now for the matter of dying, I’d rather die with a brave, noble fellow like our skipper than live in company with a man who has murdered his messmate, has seduced the girl who sheltered him from justice, and would now hang the man who saved his life. Your favours! I’ll have none on ’em.”

The fierce pirate and slaver stood abashed before the wild outbreak of the bold sailor, but quickly recovering himself, livid and trembling with rage, he shouted out to his crew—

“Heave these fools of Englishmen overboard; they know more of our secrets than they ought, and will not join us. Send this talking fellow first.”

“If it comes to that, I can find my tongue too, let me tell you,” exclaimed Bob Short; “you’re a murderous, rascally, thieving—”

“Heave them both together,” shouted Daggerfeldt.

“Stay,” said Antonio, who was refined in his cruelty; “let them have the pleasure of seeing their captain hang first, since they are so fond of him. He well knows what their fate will be, and perhaps he would rather they went overboard than joined us.”

“Do as you like, but let it be done quickly,” answered Daggerfeldt. “I’m sick of this work, and we must be preparing to get out of the river, or their friends will be sending in here to look for us.”

Hopkins and Short did not understand a word of this conversation, and finding themselves brought close up to where their captain stood engaged in his devotions, and preparing like a brave man for inevitable death, they believed that they were to share his fate.

“Well, I’m blowed if that ain’t more than I expected of the beggars,” whispered Jack Hopkins to his companion; “they’re going to do the thing that’s right after all, and launch us in our last cruise in the same way as the captain.”

“Jack, can you pray?” asked Bob Short.

“Why, for the matter of that I was never much of a hand at it,” answered Jack; “but when I was a youngster I was taught to thank God for all his mercies, and I do so still. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking as how as the skipper is taking a spell at it, whether we might ask him just to put in a word for us. He knows more about it, and a captain of a man-of-war must have a greater chance of being attended to than one of us, you see, Jack.”

Poor Bob could never thus have exerted himself had he not felt that he should only have a few words more to speak in this life. Jack looked at him in surprise.

“I’ll ask him, Bob, I’ll ask him; but you know as how the parson says, in the country we are going to all men are equal, and so I suppose we ought to pray for ourselves.”

“But we are still in this world, Jack,” argued the other; “Captain Staunton is still our captain, and we are before the mast.”

He spoke loud, and Captain Staunton had apparently overheard the conversation, for he smiled and looked towards them. He had been offering up a prayer to the throne on high for mercy for the failings of the two honest fellows, whose ignorance it was now too late to enlighten. Antonio was a pious Catholic, and, villain as he was, he was unwilling not to give the chance of a quiet passage into the other world to his victims.

“What are you about there?” shouted Daggerfeldt; “is this work never to end?”

“The men are praying, señor, before they slip their cables for eternity,” answered Antonio.

“Is there an eternity?” muttered the pirate, and shuddered.

On Captain Staunton’s turning his head, on which the light from the lantern fell strongly, Antonio believed it was the signal that he was prepared,—“Hoist away!” he shouted, in Spanish; but at that instant a light female form rushed forth from the cabin, and seizing the whip, held it forcibly down with one hand while she disengaged the noose from the captain’s neck.

“Oh, Juan! have you not murders enough on your head already that you must commit another in cold blood?” she exclaimed, turning to Daggerfeldt, “and that other on one who saved your life at the risk of his own. I knew him—before all my misery began, and recognised him at once. If you persist, I leave you; you know me well, I fear not to die; Antonio, you dare not disobey me. Unreeve that rope, and leave me to settle with our captain regarding these men.”

The slaver’s crew stood sulky and with frowning aspect around her, yet they in no way interrupted her proceedings, while Daggerfeldt stood a silent spectator in the after-part of the vessel.

“Unreeve that rope! again I say,” she exclaimed, stamping on the deck with her foot. The order was obeyed without the captain’s interference. “Your lives are safe for the present,” she said, addressing the Englishmen. “I know that man’s humour, and he dares not now contradict me. I am the only thing who yet clings to him, the only one he thinks who loves him, the only being in whom he can place his trust; that explains my power.” She spoke hurriedly and low, so that Staunton alone could hear her, and there was scorn in her tone. “Cast those men loose,” she continued, turning to the crew, while with her own hands she undid the cords which lashed Staunton’s arms, and as she did so she whispered, “Keep together, and edge towards the arms-chest. There are those on board who will aid me if any attempt is made to injure you.”

Saying this she approached the captain of the slaver; she touched his arm: “Juan,” she said, in a softened tone, totally different from that in which she had hitherto spoken; “I am wayward, and have my fancies. I felt certain that your death would immediately follow that of those men. I was asleep in my cabin, and dreamed that you were struggling in the waves, and they, seizing hold of you, were about to drag you down with them.”

Daggerfeldt looked down at her as she stood in a supplicating attitude before him. “You are fanciful, Juanetta; but you love me, girl.”

“Have I not proved it?” she answered in a tone of sadness; “you will save the lives of these men?”

“I tell you I will. We will carry them in chains to Cuba, and there sell them as slaves.”

“You must let them go free here,” she answered.

“Impossible, Juanetta; do you wish to betray me?” he asked, fiercely. “Go to your cabin. The men shall not be hurt, and they will be better off than the blacks on board.”

She was silent, and then retired to her cabin, speaking on her way a word to a negro who stood near the entrance. “Mauro,” she said, “watch those men, and if you observe any signs of treachery, let me know.”

The black signified that he comprehended her wishes, and would obey them.

Captain Staunton and his companions were not allowed to remain long at liberty; for as soon as the lady had retired, at a sign from Daggerfeldt, the slaver’s crew again attempted to lash their arms behind them, not, however, without some resistance on the part of Hopkins and Short. The most zealous in this work was the negro Mauro, who contrived, as he was passing a rope round Captain Staunton’s arm, to whisper in his ear, “Make no resistance, señor, it is useless. You have friends near you. Tell your followers to keep quiet. They can do themselves no good.”

Staunton accordingly told his men to follow his example, when they quietly submitted to their fate. Before this, he had contemplated the possibility of their being able to succeed in getting arms from the arms-chest, and either selling their lives dearly, or jumping overboard and attempting to reach the shore. In most slavers the lower deck is devoted entirely to the slaves and the provisions, the men sleeping under a topgallant-forecastle, or sometimes on the open deck, and the captain and mates under the poop deck. There was, therefore, no spare place in which to confine the prisoners, and they were accordingly told to take up their quarters under an awning stretched between two guns in the waist. This was better accommodation than they could have expected, for not only were they sheltered partially from the dew, but were screened from the observation of the crew, and were not subject to the suffocating heat of the between-decks.

A night may, however, be more agreeably spent than on a hard plank, up an African river, with a prospect of being sent to feed the alligators in the morning, and the certainty of a long separation from one’s friends and country, not to speak of the nine hundred and ninety-nine chances out of a thousand of one’s losing one’s health, if not one’s life, by the insatiable yellow-fever.

The reflections of Captain Staunton were most bitter. He thought not of himself, but of her he had loved so long and faithfully; she would believe him dead, and he knew how poignant would be her grief. He felt sure that she would not be faithless to his memory, but months, even years, might pass before he might escape, or have the means of informing her of his existence. While these ideas were passing through his mind, it was impossible to sleep. There were, too, the midnight noises of the African clime: the croaking of frogs, the chirrup of birds, the howl of wild beasts, the cries, if not of fish, of innumerable amphibious animals of flesh and fowl, and, more than all, the groans and moans of the unhappy beings confined in their noisome sepulchre below; all combined to make a concert sounding as might the distant echoes of Pandemonium. At length, however, towards the morning, nature gave way, and he forgot himself and his unfortunates in slumber. It had not lasted many minutes when he was aroused by a hand placed on his shoulder, while a soft hush was whispered in his ear. At the same time he felt that there was a knife employed in cutting the ropes which bound his arms. Something told him that the person performing this office was a friend, so he did not attempt to speak, but quietly waited to learn what, he was next expected to do. Again the voice whispered in his ear,—

“Arouse your companions, if possible, but beware that they do not speak aloud; caution them in their ear as I did you—their heads are near where yours lies.”

The voice which spoke, from its silvery tones, Staunton felt certain was that of a female, as was the hand which loosened his bonds. Without hesitation, therefore, he did as he was desired, and putting his mouth down to Hopkins’s ear, he ordered him on his life not to utter a word. Jack was awake in a moment, and alive to the state of affairs. They had more difficulty in arousing Bob Short, who uttered several very treacherous groans and grunts before he was quite awake, though he fortunately did not speak. Had Captain Staunton been aware that a sentry was actually posted outside the screen, he would have trembled for their safety. Fortunately the man was fast asleep, reclining against the bulwarks—a fact ascertained by Jack Hopkins, who poked his head from under the screen to ascertain how the coast lay. Not a sound was heard to give notice that any of the crew were stirring on deck. Staunton, feeling that his best course was to trust implicitly to his unseen guide, waited till he received directions how to proceed. He soon felt himself pulled gently by the arm towards the nearest port, which was sufficiently raised to enable him to pass through it. On putting his head out, he perceived through the obscurity a canoe with a single person in it, hanging on alongside the schooner. His guide dropped noiselessly into it, and took her place in the stern; Staunton cautiously followed, and seating himself in the afterthwart, found a paddle put into his hands; Jack and Bob required no one to tell them what to do, but quickly also took their places in the boat. As soon as they were seated, the man who was first in the canoe shoved her off gently from the side of the schooner; and while the guide directed their course, began to paddle off rapidly towards the centre of the stream. So dexterously did he apply his oar, that not a splash was heard, though the canoe darted quickly along through the ink-like current without leaving even a ripple in her wake. Not a word was uttered by any of the party; every one seemed to be aware of the importance of silence, and even Peter Palaver forebore to cut a joke, which he felt very much inclined to do, as he found himself increasing his distance from the black slaver.

The canoe held her silent course down the dark and mirror-like stream towards the sea. Not a breath of wind moved the leaves of the lofty palm-trees which towered above their heads, casting their tall shadows on the calm waters below, while here and there a star was seen piercing as it were through the thick canopy of branches; the air was hot and oppressive, and a noxious exhalation rose from the muddy banks, whence the tide had run off. Now and then a lazy alligator would run his long snout above the surface of the stream, like some water demon, and again glide noiselessly back into his slimy couch.

“Tell your people to take to their paddles and ply them well,” said the guide, in a louder tone than had hitherto been used.

Staunton was now certain that it was Juanetta’s voice—that of the lady who had preserved his life.

“We are still some distance from the sea, in reaching which is our only chance of safety; for if we are overtaken—and the moment our flight is discovered, we shall be pursued—our death is certain.”

The instant Bob and Jack had leave to use their paddles they plied them most vigorously, and the canoe, which had hitherto glided, now sprang, as it were, through the water, throwing up sparkling bubbles on either side of her sharp bows.

“Pull on, my brave men,” she exclaimed to herself, more than to the seamen, “every thing depends on our speed. The tide is still making out, and if we can clear the mouth of the river before the flood sets in all will be well.”

She spoke in Spanish, a language Staunton understood well. Her eye was meantime turning in every direction as her hand skilfully guided the boat.

“There are scouts about who might attempt to stop us if they suspected we were fugitives. I have, however, the pass-word, and can without difficulty mislead them if we encounter any. Your own people, too, may be in the river looking out for the schooner.”

“I think not,” answered Staunton. “We had lost one of our boats, and as I am believed dead, my successor (poor fellow, how he will be disappointed!) will, if he acts wisely, not attempt to capture the ‘Espanto’ except with the ‘Sylph’ herself.”

“The greater necessity, then, for our getting out to sea. It is already dawn. Observe the red glare bursting through the mist in the eastern sky, just through the vista of palm-trees up that long reach. We shall soon have no longer the friendly darkness to conceal us.”

As she was speaking a large canoe was seen gliding calmly up the stream, close in with the bank. The people in her hailed in the negro language, and the man who was first in the canoe promptly answered in the same.

“Ask them if they have seen the English man-of-war,” said Juanetta.

The negroes answered that she was still riding at anchor off the mouth of the river.

“We shall thus be safe if we can reach the open sea,” she observed; “but we have still some miles to row before we can get clear of the treacherous woods which surround us; and perhaps when our flight is discovered, our pursuers may take one of the other channels, and we may find our egress stopped at the very mouth of the stream. This suspense is dreadful.”

“We may yet strike a blow for you, and for our own liberty, señora,” answered Staunton. “It was fortunate the obscurity prevented the people in the canoe from discovering us.”

“That matters little. No one would venture to stop me but that man, that demon rather in human disguise, Daggerfeldt, as you call him,” she replied, bitterly, pronouncing the name as one to which she was unaccustomed. “Ah, señor; love—ardent, blind, mad love—can be turned to the most deadly hatred. Criminal, lost as I have been, I feel that there is a step further into iniquity, and that step I have refused to take. The scales have fallen from my eyes, and I have seen the enormity of my wickedness, and have discovered the foulness of my wrongs. From his own lips the dreadful information came. In the same breath he acknowledged that he had murdered my father and deceived me. As he slept he told the dreadful tale; the sight of you conjured up the past to his memory; other murders he talked of, and treachery of all sorts attempted. He mocked, too, at me, and at my credulity. I learned also that he still contemplated your destruction as well as mine. I who had preserved his life, who had sacrificed my happiness here and hereafter for his sake, was to be cast off for another lady fairer and younger, so it seemed to me, but I could not understand all his words, for sometimes he spoke in his native language, sometimes in Spanish. Enough was heard to decide me. I had long contemplated quitting him. I knew that it was wrong remaining, but had not strength before to tear asunder my bonds, till the feeling that I might rescue you, and make some slight reparation to heaven for my wickedness, gave me strength to undertake the enterprise. There, señor, you know the reason of your liberation; my trusty Mauro, who has ever been faithful, provided the means.”

She spoke in a hurried tone, and her sentences were broken, as if she hesitated to speak of her disgrace and misery, but yet was urged on by an irresistible impulse. Even while she was speaking her eye was on the alert, and her hand continued skilfully to guide the canoe. The stars had gradually disappeared, sinking as it were into a bed of thick leaden-coloured mist, which overspread the narrow arch overhead, while in the east a red glow appeared which melted away as the pale daylight slowly filled the air. It was day, but there was no joyousness in animated nature, or elasticity in the atmosphere, as at that time in other regions. A sombre hue tinted the trees, the water, and the sky; even the chattering of innumerable parrots, and the cries of those caricatures of men, many thousands of obscene monkeys, appeared rather to mock at than to welcome the return of the world to life.

The canoe flew rapidly on. Suddenly Juanetta lifted her paddle from the water; her ears were keenly employed.

“Hark!” she said, “cease rowing; there is the sound of oars in the water. Ah! it is as I thought. There is a boat endeavouring to cut us off by taking another channel; she is still astern of us though, but we must not slack our exertions.”

Captain Staunton redoubled his efforts, as did his men on his telling them they were pursued. After the story he had heard, he was now doubly anxious to rescue the unfortunate girl from the power of the miscreant Daggerfeldt. They now entered a broader reach of the river below the fork, where the channel which Juanetta supposed their pursuers had taken united with the one they were following. They had got some way down it when Staunton observed a large boat emerging from behind the woody screen. Juanetta judged from his eye that he had caught sight of the boat.

“Is it as I thought?” she asked, calmly.

Staunton told her that he could distinguish a boat, evidently pursuing them, but whether she belonged to his ship or to the slaver, he could not judge.

“We must not stay to examine; if we were mistaken we should be lost,” she observed; “but we have the means of defending ourselves—see, I had fire-arms placed in the bottom of the canoe, and here are powder-horns under the seat. Mauro has carefully loaded them, and if they attempt to stop us we must use them.”

On they pulled, straining every nerve to the utmost, but the canoe was heavily laden, and the boat gained on them. Staunton trusted that their pursuers might be his own people, but his hope vanished when one of them rose; there was a wreath of smoke, a sharp report, and a bullet flew over their heads and splintered the branch of a tree which grew at the end of a point they were just then doubling.

“Aim lower next time, my bo’, if you wish to wing us,” shouted Jack Hopkins, who saw no use in longer keeping silence.

“Ah!” exclaimed Juanetta, “the blue sea—we may yet escape.”

As she spoke, another shot better aimed took effect on the quarter of the canoe, but did no further injury. It showed, however, that there were good marksmen in the boat intent on mischief, and that they were perilously near already. For some time they were again shut out from their pursuers, but as the latter doubled the last point, they had, too evidently, gained on them.

“If any one again rises to fire, you must take also to your arms, señor,” said Juanetta, a shudder passing through her frame; “and if it is he, kill him—kill him without remorse. He has shown none. That rifle at your feet was his—it was always true to its aim.”

She had scarcely ceased speaking, when a figure stood up in the boat. It seemed to have the likeness of Daggerfeldt. Staunton seized the rifle to fire—he was too late. Ere he had drawn the trigger, a flash was seen, and Juanetta, with a wild shriek, fell forward into the canoe. Staunton fired; the man who had sent the fatal shot stood unharmed, but the oar of one fell from his grasp, and got entangled with those of the others. This would have enabled the canoe to recover her lost ground, had not Mauro, on seeing his beloved mistress fall, thrown up his paddle, exclaiming that he wished to die with her.

“She may yet be saved if you exert yourself,” cried Staunton, in Spanish; “row—for your life row; I will attend to your mistress.”

Urged by the officer’s commanding tone, the negro again resumed his paddle. Staunton, still guiding the canoe, raised Juanetta, and placed her back in the stern-sheets—she scarcely breathed. The ball had apparently entered her neck, though no blood was to be seen. He suspected the worst, but dared not utter his fears lest Mauro should again give way to his grief. Several other shots were fired at them from the boat, which was rapidly gaining on them. They were close on the bar, in another moment they would be in clear water.

The slaver crew shouted fiercely; again a volley was fired, the balls from which went through and through the sides of the slight canoe, without wounding any one, but making holes for the water to rush in. One more volley would sink them, when a loud cheerful shout rung in their ears, and two boats with the British ensign trailing from the stern were seen pulling rapidly towards them.

Jack Hopkins and Bob Short answered the hail; the pirates, too, saw the boats, they ceased rowing, and then pulling round, retraced their course up the river. The canoe, with the rapid current, flew over the bar, and had barely time to get alongside the barge of the “Sylph,” when she was full up to the thwarts. We need not say that his crew welcomed Captain Staunton’s return in safety with shouts of joy, after they had believed him dead.

With the strong current then setting out of the river it was found hopeless to follow the slaver’s boat. They were soon alongside the brig.

Poor Juanetta was carried carefully to the captain’s cabin, watched earnestly by Mauro. The surgeon examined her wound.

“Her hours are numbered,” he said. “No art of mine can save her.”

Calm and treacherously beautiful as was the morning on which Captain Staunton regained his ship, scarcely had she got under way to stand in closer to the mouth of the river, in order to watch more narrowly for the schooner, should she attempt to run out, than a dark cloud was seen rising over the land. It appeared on a sudden, and extended rapidly, till it spread over the whole eastern sky.

“I fear that it will not do with the weather we have in prospect to send the boats up the river again to retrieve our defeat, Mr Collins,” said Captain Staunton, pointing to the threatening sky.

“I think not, sir, with you,” answered the lieutenant; “in fact, if I may advise, the sooner we shorten sail the better, or we may have it down upon us before we are prepared.”

“You are right, Mr Collins; shorten sail as soon as you please,” said the captain.

“All hands shorten sail,” was sung along the decks.

“Aloft there”—“Lay out”—“Be smart about it”—“In with every thing”—“Let fly”—“Haul down”—“Brail up”—“Be smart, it will be down upon us thick and strong, in a moment”—“Up with the helm”—“Look out there aloft”—“Be smart, my lads.”

Such were the different orders issued, and exclamations uttered in succession by the officers.

A moment before, the sea was smooth as glass, and the brig had scarcely steerage-way. Now the loud roaring of the angry blast was heard, and the flapping of the yet unfolded canvas against the masts; the ocean was a sheet of white foam, and the sky a canopy of inky hue. Away the brig flew before it, leaving the land astern, her sails were closely furled, and she remained unharmed, not a spar was sprung, not a rope carried away, not a sail injured. Thus she flew on under bare poles till the squall subsided as quickly as it had arisen, and sail was again made to recover the ground they had lost.

Land was still visible, blue and indistinct, but many fears were naturally entertained lest the slaver, which had already given them so much trouble, should have got out of the river with her living cargo, and by keeping either way along shore, have escaped them. For some minutes the wind entirely failed, and curses loud and deep were uttered at their ill luck, when, as if to rebuke them for their discontent, the fine fresh sea-breeze set in, and, with a flowing sheet, carried them gayly along.

Every eye was employed in looking out for the slaver, for they could not suppose she would have lost the opportunity of getting out during their absence. They were not kept long in suspense.

“A sail on the starboard bow,” cried the look-out from the masthead.

“What is she like?” asked the first lieutenant.

“A schooner, sir. The slaver, sir, as we chased afore,” answered the seaman, his anxiety that she should be so making him fancy he could not be mistaken.

“The fellow must have sharp eyes indeed to know her at this distance,” muttered the lieutenant to himself with a smile; “however, I suppose he’s right. We must not, though, be chasing the wrong craft while the enemy is escaping. Which way is she standing?” he asked.

“To the southward, sir, with every stitch of canvas she can carry,” was the answer.

The officer made the proper official report to the captain.

“We must be after her at all events,” said Captain Staunton. “Haul up, Mr Collins, in chase. Send Mr Stevenson away in the barge to watch the mouth of the river.”

The brig was forthwith brought to the wind, the barge in a very short space of time was launched and manned with a stout crew well-armed and provisioned, and she shoved off to perform her duty, while the “Sylph” followed the strange sail. The man-of-war had evidently an advantage over the stranger, for while the sea-breeze in the offing blew fresh and steady, in-shore it was light and variable.

On perceiving this, Captain Staunton kept his brig still nearer to the wind, and ran down, close-hauled, along the coast, thus keeping the strength of the wind, and coming up hand over hand with the stranger, who lay at times almost becalmed under the land. The breeze, however, before they came abreast of her reached her also, and away she flew like a startled hare just aroused from sleep.

“Fire a gun to bring her to,” exclaimed the captain; “she shall have no reason to mistake our intentions.”

The British ensign was run up, and a gun was discharged, but to no effect. Two others followed, which only caused her to make more sail; and by her luffing closer up to the wind, she apparently hoped to weather on them, and cross their bows. She was a large schooner, and by the way sail was made on her, probably strongly-handed, so that there could be little doubt that she was the vessel for which they were in search.

“Send a shot into the fellow,” exclaimed the captain; “that will prove we are in earnest, and make him show his colours.”

The shot clearly hit the schooner, although the range was somewhat long, but it did slight damage. It had the effect though of making him show his ensign, and the stripes and stars of the United States streamed out to the breeze.

“Those are not the fellow’s colours, I’ll swear,” said Mr Collins, as he looked through his glass. “Another shot will teach him we are not to be humbugged.”

“Give it him, Collins, and see if you can knock away any of his spars,” said the captain. “We must follow that fellow round the world till we bring him to action, and take or sink him. He’ll not heave-to for us, depend upon that.”

“Not if Daggerfeldt is the captain,” answered the first lieutenant.

“I think she is his schooner; but he is so continually altering her appearance that it is difficult to be quite certain.”

“Though I was some hours on board of her, as I reached her in the dark, and left her before it was light, I cannot be certain,” observed Captain Staunton, as he took a turn on the quarter-deck with his officer. “By the by, there is that poor girl’s black attendant; he will know the vessel at all events. Tell him to come up and give us his opinion.”

The lieutenant went into the captain’s cabin, and soon after returned, observing,—

“He will not quit his mistress, sir; and the surgeon tells me he has sat by her side without stirring, watching every movement of her lips as a mother does her only child. As no one on board can speak his language but you, sir, we cannot make him understand why he is wanted on deck.”

“Oh, I forgot that: I will speak to him myself,” answered the captain. “Keep firing at the chase till she heaves-to, and then see that she does not play us any trick. Daggerfeldt is up to every thing.”

Captain Staunton descended to his cabin. Juanetta lay on the sofa, a sheet thrown over her limbs, her countenance of a corpse-like hue, but by the slight movements of her lips she still breathed. The black hung over her, applying a handkerchief to her brow to wipe away the cold damps gathering there. Her features, though slightly sunk, as seen in the subdued light of the cabin, seemed like those of some beautiful statue rather than of a living being. The surgeon stood at the head of the couch, endeavouring to stop the haemorrhage from the wound.

“I dare not probe for the ball,” he whispered, as if the dying girl could understand him; “it would only add to her torture, and I cannot prolong her life.”

“And this is thy handiwork, Daggerfeldt—another victim of thy unholy passions,” muttered the captain, as he gazed at her for a moment. “Poor girl, we will avenge thee!”

He had considerable difficulty in persuading Mauro to quit his mistress; but at length the faithful black allowed himself to be led on deck. He looked round, at first bewildered, as if unconscious where he was; but when his eye fell on the schooner, it brightened up, as if meeting an object with which it was familiar, and a fierce expression took possession of his countenance.

“Es ella, es ella, señor!” he exclaimed, vehemently. “It is she, it is she—fire, fire—kill him, kill him, he has slain my mistress!”

A gun was just then discharged, the shot struck the quarter of the schooner, and the white splinters were seen flying from it. On seeing this he shouted with savage joy, clapped his hands, and spat in the direction of the slaver, exhibiting every other sign he could think of, of hatred and rage. Having thus given way to his feelings, the recollection of his mistress returned, and with a groan of anguish he rushed down below.

The two vessels had been gradually drawing closer to each other, in consequence of the schooner luffing up to endeavour to cross the bows of the brig, and if she could, to get to windward of her, the only chance she had of escaping. The eyes of the officers were fixed on her to watch her movements.

“She’s about—all right!” shouted the captain. “Give her a broadside while she is in stays, and knock away some of her spars. Fire high, my lads, so as not to hurt her hull.”

The brig discharged her whole larboard battery, and the fore-topmast of the schooner was seen tumbling below.

“By Jingo, we’ve dished him!” exclaimed Jack Hopkins, to his chum, Bob Short; “and I’m blowed, Bob, if it wasn’t my shot did that ere for him. I never lost sight of it till it struck.”

“Maybe,” answered Bob; “hard to prove, though.”

The schooner had sufficient way on her to bring her round before the topmast fell, and she was now brought into a position partially to rake the brig, though at the distance the two vessels were from each other, the aim was very uncertain.

That Daggerfeldt had determined to fight his vessel was now evident, for the flag of the United States being hauled down, that of Spain was run up in its stead, and at the same moment a broadside was let fly from the schooner. The shot came whizzing over and about the brig, but one only struck her, carrying away the side of a port, a splinter from which slightly wounded Bob Short in the leg.

“Ough!” exclaimed Bob, quietly binding his handkerchief round the limb without quitting his post, “they’re uncivil blackguards.”

“Never mind, Bob,” said Jack Hopkins, “we’ll soon have an opportunity of giving them something in return. See, by Jingo, we’ve shot away his forestay! we’ll have his foremast down in a jiffy. Huzza, my boys, let’s try what we can do!”

Whether Jack’s gun was well aimed it is difficult to say, but at all events the shot from the brig told with considerable effect on the rigging of the schooner. The brig did not altogether escape from the fire of the enemy, who worked his guns rapidly; but whenever a brace was shot away it was quickly again rove, so that she was always kept well under command. The loss of her fore-topmast made the escape of the schooner hopeless, unless she could equally cripple her pursuer; but that she had not contrived to do, and accordingly, as the two vessels drew closer together, the fire from each took more effect. Daggerfeldt, to do him justice, did all a seaman could do, and in a very short space of time the wreck of his topmast was cleared away, and he was preparing to get up a new one in its place. The sea was perfectly smooth, and the wind gradually fell till there was scarcely enough to blow away the smoke from the guns of the combatants, which in thick curling wreaths surrounded them, till at intervals only could the adjacent land and the ocean be seen.

Although Daggerfeldt could scarcely have hoped to succeed either in escaping or coming off the victor, he still refused to haul down his colours, even when the “Sylph,” shooting past ahead of him, poured in her whole broadside, sweeping his decks, and killing and wounding several of his people. Dreadful were the shrieks which arose from the poor affrighted wretches confined below, although none of them were injured. The “Sylph” then wore round, and, passing under her stern, gave her another broadside, and then luffing up, ran her alongside—the grappling-irons were hove on board, and she was secured in a deadly embrace. The miserable blacks, believing that every moment was to be their last, again uttered loud cries of horror; but the slaver’s crew, some of whom fought with halters round their necks, still refused to yield, and, with cutlass in hand, seemed prepared to defend their vessel to the last, as the British seamen, led on by their captain, leaped upon the decks. Staunton endeavoured to single out Daggerfeldt, but he could nowhere distinguish him; and after a severe struggle, in which several of the Spaniards were killed, he fought his way aft, and hauled down the colours.

At that instant a female form, with a white robe thrown around her, was seen standing on the deck of the brig; the crew of the slaver also saw her, and, believing her to be a spirit of another world, fancied she had come to warn them of their fate. The energies of many were paralysed, and some threw down their arms and begged for quarter. A loud, piercing shriek was heard.

“I am avenged, I am avenged!” she cried, and sank upon the deck.

It was Juanetta. Mauro, who had followed her from the cabin, threw himself by her side, and wrung his hands in despair. They raised up her head, and the surgeon felt her pulse. She had ceased to breathe.

No further resistance was offered by the crew of the slaver. Eight hundred human beings—men, women, and children—were found stowed below, wedged so closely together, that none could move without disturbing his neighbour. Some had actually died from sheer fright at the noise of the cannonading.

Instant search was made for Daggerfeldt; he was nowhere to be found, and the crew either could not or would not give any information respecting him. The prize was carried safely to Sierra Leone, where she was condemned; the slaves were liberated, and became colonists; and Captain Staunton, and his officers and crew, got a handsome share of prize-money.

The “Sylph” was in the following month recalled home, and a few weeks afterward the papers announced the marriage of Captain Staunton, RN, to Miss Blanche D’Aubigné.

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