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committer: www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> 2026-03-28 17:02:44 -0700
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+    <title>
+      THE DEMON SHIP, OR THE PIRATE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
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+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78318 ***</div>
+
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="right">[<abbr title="Number">No.</abbr> 7.</p>
+
+<h1>
+THE<br>
+<span class="big">DEMON SHIP,</span><br>
+<small>OR</small><br>
+THE PIRATE<br>
+OF THE MEDITERRANEAN.
+</h1>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp100" id="coverpage" style="max-width: 27.75em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/illustration.png"
+   alt="A couple in fancy dress standing facing each other
+        and holding hands on the deck of a boat.">
+</figure>
+
+<p class="center p2">
+<b>EDINBURGH:</b><br>
+<b>PRINTED &amp; PUBLISHED BY J. BRYDONE,</b><br>
+<small><b>SOUTH HANOVER STREET.</b></small>
+</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+<div class="chapter">
+  <h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DEMON_SHIP_c">
+    THE DEMON SHIP, <abbr lang='la' title="et cetera">&amp;c.</abbr>
+  </h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>I was the only son of a widowed mother, who, though far
+from affluent, was not pennyless;—you will naturally suppose,
+therefore, I was a most troublesome, disagreeable, spoiled child.
+Such I might have been, but for the continual drawback on
+all my early gratifications, which my maternal home presented,
+in the shape of an old dowager countess, a forty-ninth
+cousin of my mother’s. Whatever I was doing, wherever I
+was going, there was she reproving, rebuking, exhorting, and
+all to save me from idling, or drowning, or quarrelling, or
+straying, or a hundred etceteras. I grew up, went to school,
+to college—finally, into the army, and with it to Ireland;
+and had the satisfaction, at five-and-twenty, to hear the
+dowager say I was good for nothing. She was of a somewhat
+malicious disposition, and perhaps I did not well to make her
+my enemy. At this time I had the offer of a good military
+appointment to India, and yet I hesitated to accept it. There
+was in my native village a retired Scotch officer, for whom I
+had conceived a strong attachment. His daughter I had
+known and loved from childhood, and when this gave place
+to womanhood, my affection changed in kind while it strengthened
+in degree. Margaret Cameron was at this period seventeen,
+and, consequently, eight years my junior. She was
+young, beautiful, and spoiled by a doating parent—yet I saw
+in her a fine natural disposition, and the seeds of many noble
+qualities. To both father and daughter I openly unfolded
+my affection. Captain Cameron, naturally, pleaded the youth
+of his daughter. Margaret laughed at the idea of my even
+entertaining a thought of her, and declared she would as soon
+think of marrying an elder brother as myself. I listened to
+her assertions with profound silence, scorned to whine and
+plead my cause, bowed with an air of haughty resignation,
+and left her.</p>
+
+<p>When next I saw Margaret I was in a travelling dress at
+her father’s residence. I found her alone in the garden, occupied
+in watering her flowers. ‘I am come, Margaret,’ I
+said, ‘to bid you farewell.’—‘Why, where are you going?’—‘To
+London, to sea, to India.’—‘Nonsense!’—‘You
+always think there is nonsense in truth; every thing that is
+serious to others is a jest to you.’—‘Complementary this
+morning.’—‘<span lang="fr">Adieu</span>, Margaret; may you retain through life
+the same heartlessness of disposition. It will preserve you
+from many a pang that might reach a more sensitive bosom.’—‘You
+do my strength of mind infinite honour. Every girl
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span>of seventeen can be sentimental, but there are few stoics in
+their teens. I love to be <i>coldly great</i>. You charm me.’—‘If
+heartlessness and mental superiority are with you synonymes,’
+I said, with gravity, ‘count yourself, Miss Cameron,
+at the very acmé of intellectual greatness, since you can take
+leave of one of your earliest friends with such easy indifference.’—‘Pooh!
+pooh! I know you are not really going.
+This voyage to India is one of your favourite threats in your
+dignified moments. I think this is about the twentieth time
+it has been made. And for early friends, and so forth, you
+have contrived to live within a few hundred feet of them
+without coming in their sight for the last month; so they cannot
+be so very dear.’—‘Listen to me, Margaret,’ said I, with
+a grave, and, as I think, manly dignity of bearing; ‘I offered
+you the honest and ardent, though worthless gift of a heart,
+whose best affections you entirely possessed. I am not coxcomb
+enough to suppose that I can at pleasure storm the affections
+of any woman; but I am man enough to expect that
+they should be denied me with some reference to the delicate
+respect due to mine. But you are, of course, at full liberty to
+choose your own mode of rejecting your suitors; only, as one
+who still views you as a friend, I would that that manner
+shewed more of good womanly feeling, and less of conscious
+female power. I am aware, Margaret, that this is not the
+general language of lovers; perhaps if it were, woman might
+hold her power more gracefully, and even Margaret Cameron’s
+heart would have more of greatness and generosity than it
+now possesses.’ While I spoke, Margaret turned away her
+lovely face, and I saw that her very neck was suffused. I
+took her hand, assured her that the journey I had announced
+was no lover’s <i lang="fr">ruse</i>, and that I was really on the point of
+quitting my native land.—‘And now, Margaret,’ I said,
+‘farewell—you will scarce find in life a more devoted friend—a
+more ardent desirer of your happiness, than him you have
+driven from your side.’ I stretched out my hand to Margaret
+for a friendly farewell clasp. But she held not out her’s in
+return; she spoke not a word of <span lang="fr">adieu</span>. I turned an indignant
+countenance towards her, and, to my unutterable surprise,
+beheld my beautiful young friend in a swoon. And
+was this the being I had accused of want of feeling! We left
+the garden solemnly plighted to each other. But I pass
+briefly over this portion of my history. I was condemned by
+the will of Captain Cameron, and by the necessity of obtaining
+some professional promotion, to spend a few years in India
+before I could receive the hand of Margaret.</p>
+
+<p>I reached my Asiatic destination—long and anxiously looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span>
+for European letters—took up one day by accident an
+English paper, and there read—‘Died, at the house of Captain
+Cameron, in the village of A——, Miss Margaret
+Cameron, aged eighteen.’ I will not here dwell on my feelings.
+I wrote a letter of despair to Captain Cameron, informing
+him of the paragraph I had read, imploring him, for the love
+of mercy, if possible, to contradict it, and declaring that my
+future path in life now lay stretched before me like one wild
+waste. The Countess of Falcondale answered my epistle by
+a deep, black-margined letter, with a sable seal as large as a
+saucer. My sole parent was no more;—for Captain Cameron—he
+had been seized by a paralytic affection in consequence
+of the shock his feelings had sustained.</p>
+
+<p>The appearance of my name about five years afterwards,
+among the ‘Marriages’ in the Calcutta Gazette, was followed by
+successive announcements among the ‘Births and Deaths,’ in
+the same compendious record of life’s changes. My wife perished
+of malignant fever, and two infant children speedily followed
+her. I set out to return over-land to my native country,
+a sober, steady, and partially grey-haired colonel of thirty-six.
+My military career had been as brilliant as my domestic path
+had been clouded. I arrived at a port of the Levant, and
+thence took ship for Malta, where I landed in safety.</p>
+
+<p>At this period, the Mediterranean traders were kept in a
+state of perpetual alarm by the celebrated ‘<span class="smcap">Demon Ship</span>.’
+Though distinguished by the same attractive title, she in nowise
+resembled the phantom terror of the African Cape. She
+was described as a powerful vessel, manned by a desperate
+flesh-and-blood crew, whose rapacity triumphed over all fear
+of danger, and whose cruelty forbade all hope of mercy. Yet,
+though she was neither ‘built’ of air, nor ‘manned’ by
+demons, her feats had been so wonderful, that there was at
+length no other rational mode of accounting for them than
+by tracing them to supernatural, and, consequently, demoniacal,
+agency. She had sailed through fleets undiscovered; she
+had escaped from the fastest pursuers; she had overtaken
+the swiftest fugitives; she had appeared where she was not
+expected, and disappeared when even her very latitude and
+longitude seemed calculable. Her fearful title had been first
+given by those who dreaded to become her victims; but she
+seemed not ill pleased by the appalling epithet, and shortly
+shewed the word DEMON in flaming letters on her stern.
+Some mariners went so far as to say that a smell of brimstone,
+and a track of phosphoric light, marked for miles the pathway
+of her keel in the waves. Others declared that she had
+the power, through her evil agents, of raising such a strange,
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span>dense, and portentous mist in the atmosphere, as prevented
+her victims from descrying her approach until they fell, as it
+were, into her very jaws. Innumerable were the vessels that
+had left different ports in the Mediterranean to disappear for
+ever. It seemed the cruel practice of the Demon to sink her
+victims in their own vessels.</p>
+
+<p>The Demon Ship was talked of from the ports of the Levant
+to Gibraltar; and no vessel held herself in secure waters until
+she had passed the Straits. Of course, such a pest to these
+seas <span id="TN4">was not to be quietly suffered</span>; so several governments
+began to think of preparing to put her down. To the surprise,
+however, of all, she seemed suddenly to disappear from
+the Mediterranean. Some said that her crew, having sold
+themselves to the father of all evil for a certain length of time,
+and the period having probably expired, the desperadoes were
+now gone to their own place, and the seas would consequently
+be clear again. Others deemed that the Demon Ship had
+only retired for some deep purpose, and would shortly reappear
+with more fearful power.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the trading vessels then about to quit the port of
+Valetta, had obtained convoy from a British frigate and sloop
+of war, bound to Gibraltar, and thence to England. So eager
+were all passengers to sail under such protection, that I had
+some difficulty in obtaining a berth in any of the holes and
+corners of the various fine fast-sailing copper-bottomed brigs,
+whose cards offered such ‘excellent accommodations for passengers.’
+At length, I went on board the ‘Elizabeth Downs,’
+a large three-masted British vessel, whose size made the surrounding
+brigs dwindle into insignificance, and whose fresh-painted
+sides seemed to foreshew the cleanliness and comfort
+that would be found within. One little hen-pen of a cabin
+on deck alone remained at the captain’s disposal. However,
+I was fond of a cabin on deck, and paid half my passage-money
+to the civil little captain, who testified much regret that he
+could not offer me the ‘freedom of the quarter-deck,’ as the
+whole stern end of the vessel had been taken by an English
+lady of quality, who wished for privacy. He added that she
+was a dowager countess. ‘I hate dowager countesses,’ said
+I, irreverently; ‘what is the name of your passenger?’—‘Passenger!’—‘Well—countess—what
+is the title of your
+countess?’—‘The Countess of Falcondale.’—‘What!’
+thought I; ‘cannot I even come as near to my former home as
+Malta, without again finding myself under her influence?
+My dear fellow, give me back my passage-money, or accept it
+as a present at my hands, for I sail not with you,’ said I.
+But a man at thirty-six will hardly sacrifice his personal convenience<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>
+to the whimsies of twenty-five; so I stood to my
+bargain, determined to keep myself as much as possible from
+the knowledge of my old tormentor. Conscious of my altered
+personal appearance, I resolved to travel charmingly <abbr title="incognito"><i lang="la">incog.</i></abbr>,
+and assumed the name and title of Captain Lyon, which had
+been familiar to me in my childhood, as belonging to a friend
+of Captain Cameron.</p>
+
+<p>It was the month of June, and the weather was oppressively
+hot. There was so little wind stirring after we set sail,
+that for several days we made scarcely any way under all
+the sail we could carry. The first night I stretched my limbs
+on a long seat which joined the steps of the quarter-deck.
+I was now then really on my way to my native shores, and
+should not step from the vessel in which I sailed until I trode
+the land of my fathers! Naturally enough, my thoughts
+turned to former days and old faces. From time to time, these
+thoughts half sunk into dreams, from which I repeatedly
+awoke, and as often dozed off again. At length, my memory,
+and consequently my dreams, took the shape of Margaret
+Cameron. The joyous laugh of youth seemed to ring in my
+ears; and when I closed my eyes, her lovely bright countenance
+instantly rose before them. Yet I had the inconsistent
+conviction of a dreamer that she was dead, and as my slumber
+deepened, I seemed busied in a pilgrimage to her early grave.
+I saw the church-yard of A——, with the yellow sunlight
+streaming on many a green hillock; and there was one solitary
+grass grave, that, as if by a strange spell, drew my steps,
+and on an humble head-stone I read the name of ‘Margaret
+Cameron, aged 18.’ To my unspeakable emotion I heard,
+beneath the sods, a sound of sweet and soothing, but melancholy
+music. While I listened with an attention that apparently
+deprived my senses of their power, the church-yard and
+grave disappeared, and I seemed, by one of those transitions
+to which the dreamer is so subject, to be sailing on a lone and
+dismal sea, whose leaden and melancholy waves reflected no
+sail save that of the vessel which bore me. The heat became
+stifling, and my bosom oppressed, yet the music still sounded,
+low, sweet, and foreboding in my ear. A soft and whitish
+mist seemed to brood over the stern of the ship. According
+to the apparently established laws of spiritual matter, the
+mist condensed, then gradually assumed form, and I gazed,
+with outstretched arms, on the figure of Margaret Cameron.
+She seemed in my vision as one who, in quitting earth, had left
+not only its passions but its affections behind her; and there
+was something forbidding in the wan indifference of that eye.
+Yet was her voice passing sweet, as still its sad cadences fell
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>on my ear, in the words of a ballad I had once loved to sing
+with her—</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+  <div class="poetry">
+    <div class="stanza">
+      <div class="verse indent0">‘The green sod is no grave of mine,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">The earth is not my pillow,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent0">The grave I lie in shall be <i>thine</i>,</div>
+      <div class="verse indent2">Our winding sheet—the billow.’</div>
+    </div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<p>I awoke,—yet for a moment appeared still dreaming; for
+there, hovering over the foot of my couch, I seemed still to
+behold the form of Margaret Cameron. She was leaning on
+the rail of the quarter-deck, and overlooking my couch. I
+sat up, and gazed on the objects around me, in order to
+recover my apparently deluded senses. The full moon was
+in her zenith. The heat was intense, the calm profound.
+There lay the different vessels of our little squadron, nought
+seen save their white sails in the moonlight, and nought heard
+save their powerless flapping, and the restless plashing of the
+becalmed waves, only agitated by the effort of our vessel to
+cleave them. Still the moonlight fell on the white form and
+pale countenance of Margaret. I started up. ‘This is some
+delusion,’ said I, ‘or because one of the countess’s women
+resembles my early idol, must I turn believer in ghost-stories,
+and adopt at thirty-six what I scouted at sixteen?’ The
+suddenness of my rising seemed to scare my fair phantom;
+and, in the hastiness of her retreat, she gave ample proof of
+mortal fallibility by stumbling over some coils of cable that
+happened to lie in her way. The shock brought her to her
+knees. I was up the steps in one instant; seized an arm
+and then a hand, soft, delicate, and indubitably of flesh and
+blood, and restored the lady to her feet. She thanked me in
+gentle tones that sent a thrill through all my veins, and made
+me again half deem that ‘the voice of the dead was on mine
+ear.’ I now expressed my fears that my sudden gestures
+had been the cause of this little accident. ‘I fear,’ she replied,
+‘my reckless song disturbed your slumbers.’ After
+a few more words had passed between us, I ventured to ask
+in a tone as indifferent as I could assume, whether she claimed
+kindred with Captain Hugh Cameron, of A——? The striking
+likeness which she bore to his amiable and deceased
+daughter must, I observed, plead my apology. She looked
+at me for a moment with unutterable surprise; then added,
+with dignity and perfect self-possession, ‘I have then, probably,
+the pleasure of addressing some old acquaintance of
+Captain Cameron? How the mistake arose which induced
+any one to suppose that his child was no more, I confess myself
+at a loss to imagine. I am the daughter of Captain
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>Cameron; and, after this self-introduction, may, perhaps,
+claim the name of my father’s former acquaintance.’ You
+may be sure I was in no mood to give it. I rushed to the
+side of the vessel, and, hanging over it, gasped with an emotion
+which almost stopped respiration. It is inexpressible what
+a revulsion this strange discovery made in my feelings. I
+felt that there had been treachery. I became keenly sensible
+that I must have appeared a traitor to Margaret, and hurriedly
+resolved not to declare my name to her until I had in
+some way cleared my character.</p>
+
+<p>I was still sufficiently a man of the world to have my feelings
+in some mastery, and returned to the side of Margaret
+with an apology for indisposition, which in truth was no
+subterfuge. I verily believe, as the vessel had given a sudden
+lurch at the moment she had discovered herself, and my
+pendant posture over the ship’s side might be an attitude of
+rather dubious construction, she passed on me the forgiveness
+of a sea-sick man. Margaret added, that she presumed she
+had the pleasure of addressing her fellow-passenger, Captain
+Lyon? She had often, she observed, heard her father mention
+his name, though not aware until this moment of his
+identity with her brother-voyager. I was not displeased by
+this illusion, though I thus found myself identified with a
+man twenty years my senior. I remarked, with an effort at
+ease, that I had certainly once the advantage of Captain
+Cameron’s acquaintance, but that a lapse of many years
+had separated me from him and his family. ‘There was, however,’
+I remarked, ‘a Captain, since made Colonel, Francillon,
+in India, who had been informed, or rather, happily for her
+friends, <i>mis</i>informed, of the death of Miss Cameron.’ Margaret
+smiled incredulously; but with a dignified indifference,
+which created a strange feeling within me, seemed willing to
+let the subject pass. Margaret’s spirits seemed to have lost
+their buoyancy, and her cheek the bloom of youth. But
+there was an elegance, a sort of melancholy dignity in her
+manner, and a touching expression on her countenance, to
+which both before had been strangers. Observing her smile,
+and perceiving that, with another graceful acknowledgment
+of my assistance, she was about to withdraw, I grew desperate,
+and ventured, with some abruptness, to demand if she
+had herself known Colonel Francillon? She answered, with
+a self-possession which chilled me, that she had certainly <i>in
+her youth</i> been acquainted with a Lieutenant Francillon, who
+had since been promoted in India, and probably was the
+<i>officer</i> of whom I spoke. ‘Perhaps,’ observed I, ‘there is
+not a man alive for whom I feel a greater interest than for
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>Colonel Francillon.’—‘He is fortunate in possessing so warm
+a friend,’ said Margaret, with careless politeness; but I
+thought I perceived, through this nonchalance, a slight tone
+of pique, which was less mortifying than her indifference.
+‘I know not,’ said I, ‘any thing which causes such a sudden
+and enchantment-like reversion of the mind to past scenes
+and feelings, as an unexpected rencontre with those who were
+associated with us in the earliest and freshest days of our
+being.’—‘Nothing certainly,’ answered Margaret, ‘reminds
+us so forcibly of the <i>change</i> that has taken place in
+our being and our feelings.’—‘True,’ replied I; ‘yet for
+the moment the change itself seems annihilated; our hearts
+beat with the same pulse that before animated them, and
+time seems to have warred on their feelings in vain.’—‘Perhaps
+to have taught a lesson in vain,’ said my companion.
+I added, rather diffidently, ‘and what lesson <i>should</i> time
+teach us?’—‘It should teach us,’ she answered, ‘that our
+heart’s best and warmest feelings may be wasted on that
+which may disappoint, and cannot satisfy them.’—‘I read
+your lesson with delight,’ answered I; ‘the only danger is
+lest we mistake the coolings of time for the conquests of principle.’
+She seemed pleased by the sentiment, and by the
+frankness of the caution.’ ‘It may be,’ she said, ‘in the
+power of Time and Disappointment to detach from the world,
+or at least to produce a barren acknowledgment of its unsatisfactoriness,
+but it is beyond their unassisted power to attach
+the soul with a steady and <i>practical</i> love to the only
+legitimate, the only rational source of happiness. Here is
+the touch-stone which the self-deceiver cannot stand.’ I
+was silent. There was a delicious feeling in my bosom that
+is quite indescribable.—‘These,’ I said, ‘are the sentiments
+of Colonel Francillon; and since we have been on the subject
+of old friends, I could almost make up my mind to give you
+his history. It really half resembles a romance. At least, it
+shows how often, in real life, circumstances—I had almost
+said adventures—arise, which in fiction we should deride as
+an insult to our taste, by the violence done to all probability.
+Come, shall I give you the history of your former <i>acquaintance</i>?’—‘Give
+<i>me</i> the history!’ said Margaret, involuntarily,
+and with some emotion—it seemed the emotion of
+indignation.—‘Ay, why not? I mean, of course, his Indian
+history; for of that in England, perhaps, as your <i>families</i> were
+acquainted, you may know as much as I can.’</p>
+
+<p>I confess my heart began to beat quick and high, as, taking
+advantage of Margaret’s silence, I began to tell my own history.—Francillon
+had, I observed, arrived in India, animated in
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>his endeavours to obtain fortune and preferment by one of the
+dearest and purest motives which can incite the human bosom.
+Here Margaret turned round with a something of dignified
+displeasure, which seemed to reprobate this little delicate allusion
+to her past history. I proceeded as though I marked
+not her emotion.—Francillon was under an engagement to a
+young and lovely compatriot, whose image was the idol of his
+bosom, but whose name, from natural and sacred feelings,
+had never passed his lip to human being. Here I thought
+Margaret seemed to breathe again. So I told my history
+simply and feelingly, and painted my grief on hearing of the
+death of Margaret with such depth of colouring, that I had well
+nigh identified the narrator with the subject of his biography.
+She said, in a peculiar tone, with which an assumed carelessness
+in vain struggled, ‘It is singular that a married man
+should have thus grieved over the object of an unextinguished
+attachment.’—‘Captain Francillon,’ I observed, ‘was
+not married until five years after the period we speak of,—when
+he gave his hand to one of whom I trust he has too
+much manly feeling ever to speak save with the tender respect
+she merited, but to whom he candidly confessed that
+he brought but a blighted heart, the better half of whose affections
+lay buried in the grave of her who had first inspired
+them.’</p>
+
+<p>I continued my history—brought myself to Malta, and
+placed myself on board an <i>English vessel</i>. Here, I confess,
+my courage half-failed me; but I went on.—‘Francillon,’
+I said, ‘now began to realize his return to his native land.
+On the first night of his voyage, he threw himself, in meditative
+mood, on the deck, and half in thought, half in dreams,
+recalled former scenes. But there was one form which constantly
+arose before his imagination. He dreamed, too, of
+something—I know not what—of a pilgrimage to the lone
+grave of her he had loved and lost; and then a change came
+upon his slumbering fancy, and he seemed to be ploughing
+some solitary and dismal sea; but even there a form appeared
+to him, whose voice thrilled on his ear, and whose eye, though
+it had waxed cold to him, made his heart heave with strange
+and unwonted emotion. He awoke—but oh!—the vision
+vanished not. Still in the moonlight he saw her who had
+risen on his dreams. Francillon started up. The figure he
+gazed on hastily retreated. He followed her in time to raise
+her from the fall her precipitate flight had occasioned, and
+discovered that she whom he beheld was indeed the object of
+his heart’s earliest and best feelings—was Margaret Cameron!’
+I believe my respiration almost failed me as I thus ended.
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>Margaret sprang to her feet with astonishment and emotion.
+‘Is it possible!—have I then the pleasure to see—I
+am sure—I am most fortunate—’ again and again began
+Margaret, and gave way to an honest flood of tears. I felt
+that I had placed her in an embarrassing situation. Seating
+myself, therefore, by her, and taking her hand,—‘Margaret,’
+I said, ‘I fear I have been somewhat abrupt with you. Forgive
+me if I have been too bold in thus forcing on you the
+history of one for whom I have little reason and less right to
+suppose you still interested. Bury in oblivion some passages
+in it, and forgive the biographer if he have expanded a little
+too freely on feelings which may be unacceptable to your ear.’
+I stretched out my hand as I spoke, and we warmly shook
+hands, as two old friends in the first moment of meeting.</p>
+
+<p>I had been longing to know somewhat of Margaret’s own
+history,—wherefore she had visited Malta, <abbr lang='la' title="et cetera">&amp;c.</abbr>; but she
+seemed to have no intention of gratifying my curiosity,
+and I only too feelingly divined that her parent’s altered circumstances
+had sent her out the humble companion of the
+Countess of Falcondale. ‘I am aware,’ I said, smiling, ‘that
+I have more than one old acquaintance in this vessel; and,
+in truth, when I heard that my former friend—I had nearly
+said enemy—the Countess of Falcondale, was on board, I felt
+half-inclined to relinquish the voyage.’ Margaret hesitated—then
+said, half-smiling, half-sad, ‘I cannot <i>autobiographize</i>
+as my friend has done. But—but—perhaps you heard of the
+unhappy state of my dear parent’s affairs—and his daughter
+was prevailed on to take a step—perhaps a false one. Well,
+well, I cannot tell my history. Peace be with the dead!—every
+filial, every <i>conjugal</i> feeling consecrate their ashes!—but
+make yourself easy; my <i>mother-in-law</i> is not here. You
+will find but one dowager-countess in this vessel, and she
+now shakes your hand, and bids you a good night.’ Margaret
+hastily disappeared as she spoke, and left me in a state—but
+I will teaze no one with my half-dream like feelings
+on that night.</p>
+
+<p>Well, I failed not to visit my <i>noble</i> fellow-passenger on the
+morrow; and day after day, while we lay on those becalmed
+waves, I renewed my intercourse with Margaret. It can
+easily be divined that she had given her hand to save a parent,
+and that she had come abroad with a husband, who, dying,
+had there left her a widow, and, alas for me! a rich widow.
+If limits would allow, I could tell a long tale of well-managed
+treachery and deception; how the ill-natured countess suffered
+me to <i>remain</i> in the belief that the death of Captain
+Cameron’s niece, which occurred at A——, was that of my
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>own Margaret; how, in her character of supreme manager
+of the paralytic officer’s affairs, she kept my letters; how she
+worked on Margaret’s feelings to bring about a marriage with
+the Earl of Falcondale, in the hope of again acquiring a
+maternal footing in her son’s house, and the right of managing
+a portionless daughter-in-law; how Margaret held
+out stoutly until informed of my broken faith; and how her
+marriage was kept from the public papers. One night, I
+thought, as I bade the countess good night, that I perceived
+a light breeze arising. This I remarked to her, and she received
+the observation with a pleasure which found no correspondent
+emotion in my own bosom. As I descended to my
+berth, I fancied I descried among the sailors one Girod Jacqueminot,
+whose face I had not before remarked. He was a
+Frenchman, to whom I had, during my residence abroad,
+rendered some signal services, and who, though but a wild
+fellow, had sworn to me eternal gratitude. He skulked, however,
+behind his fellows, and did not now, it appeared, choose
+to recognise his benefactor.</p>
+
+<p>I believe I slept profoundly that night. When I awoke,
+there was a sound of dashing waves against the vessel, and a
+bustle of sailors’ voices, and a blustering noise of wind among
+the sails and rigging; and I soon perceived that our ship
+was scudding before a stiff, nay, almost stormy gale. I peeped
+through the seaward opening of my little cabin. The scene
+was strangely changed. It was scarcely dawn. I looked for
+the white sails of our accompanying vessels, and our convoy.
+All had disappeared. We seemed alone on those leaden-coloured
+billows. At this moment, I heard a voice in broken
+English say, ‘Confound—while I reef tose tammed top-sails,
+my pipe go out.’—‘Light it again, then, at the binnacle, Monseer,’
+said a sailor.—‘Yes, and be hanged to de yard-arm
+by our coot captain for firing de sheep. Comment-faire?
+Sacrebleu! I cannot even <i>tink</i> vidout my pipe. De tought!
+Monsieur in de leetle coop dere have always de lamp patent
+burning for hees lecture. He sleep now. I go enter gently—light
+my pipe.’ He crept into my cabin as he spoke.
+‘How’s this, my friend?’ said I, speaking in French; ‘does
+not your captain know that we are out of sight of convoy?’
+Girod answered in his native language,—‘Oh! that I had
+seen you sooner. You think, perhaps, I have forgotten all I
+owe you? No—no—but ’tis too late now!’ He pointed
+to the horizon. On its very verge one sail was yet visible.
+A faint rolling noise came over the water. ‘It is the British
+frigate,’ said Girod, ‘firing to us to put our ship about, and
+keep under convoy. But our captain has no intention of
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span>obeying the signal; and if you get out of sight of that one distant
+sail, you are lost.’—‘Think you, then, that the Demon Ship
+is in these seas?’ said I, anxiously. Girod came close to me.
+With a countenance of remorse and despair which I can never
+forget, he grasped my arm, and held it towards heaven,—‘Look
+up to God!’ he whispered; ‘<i>you are on board the
+Demon Ship!</i>’ A step was heard near the cabin, and Girod
+was darting from it; but I held him by the sleeve. ‘For
+heaven’s sake, for miladi’s sake, for your own sake,’ he whispered,
+‘let not a look, a word, shew that you are acquainted
+with this secret. All I can do is to try and gain time for you.
+But be prudent, or you are lost!’ and quitted the cabin as
+he spoke. When I thought how long, and how fearlessly, the
+‘Elizabeth’ had lain amid the trading-vessels at Valetta,
+and how she had sailed from that port under a powerful convoy,
+I was almost tempted to believe that Girod had been
+practising a joke on me. ‘What have you been doing there?’
+said a voice I had never heard before, and whose ruffianly
+tones could hardly be subdued by his efforts at a whisper.
+‘My pipe go out,’ answered Girod Jacqueminot, ‘and I not
+so imprudent to light it at de beenacle. So I go just hold it
+over de lamp of Monsieur, and he sleep, sleep, snore, snore
+all de while, and know noting. I have never seed one man
+dorme so profound.’</p>
+
+<p>I now heard the voices of the captain, Girod, and the
+ruffian, in close and earnest parlance. The expletives that
+graced it shall be omitted. But what first confirmed my fears,
+was the hearing our captain obsequiously address the ruffian-speaker
+as commander of the vessel, while the former received
+from his companion the familiar appellative of Jack. They
+were walking the deck, and their whispered speech only
+reached me as they from time to time approached my cabin,
+and was again lost as they receded. I thought, however, that
+Girod seemed, by stopping occasionally, as if in the vehemence
+of speech, to draw them, as much as possible, towards my
+cabin. I then listened with an intentness which made me
+almost fear to breathe. ‘But again I say, Jack,’ said the
+voice of the real captain, ‘what are we to do with these fine
+passengers of ours? I am sick of this stage-play work; and
+the men are tired, by this time, of being kept down in the
+hold. We shall have them mutiny if we stifle them much
+longer below. Look how that sail is sinking on the horizon.
+She can never come up with us now. There be eight good
+sacks in the forecastle, and we can spare them due ballast.
+That would do the job decently enough for our passengers—ha!’
+‘Oh! mine goot captain, you are man of speeret,’ observed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>
+Jacqueminot; ‘but were it not wise to see dat sail no
+more, before we shew dat we no vile merchanters, but men
+of de trade dat make de money by de valour.’—‘There is
+something in that,’ observed Jack; ‘if the convoy come up,
+and our passengers be missing, ’tis over with us.’ ‘And de
+coot sacks wasted for noting,’ said Jacqueminot, with a cool
+ingenuity that contrasted curiously with his vehement and
+horror-stricken manner in my cabin. ‘Better to wait one
+day—two day—parbleu! tree day—than spoil our sport by
+de precipitation.’—‘I grudge the keep of these dainty passengers
+all this while,’ said the captain, roughly;—‘my lady
+there, with her chickens, and her conserves, and her pasties;
+and <abbr title=Mister>Mr</abbr> Molly-flower Captain here, with his bottles of port
+and claret, and cups of chocolate and Mocha coffee. Paying,
+too, forsooth! with such princely airs for every thing, as if
+we held not his money in our own hands already. Hunted as we
+then were, ’twas no bad way of blinding governments, by passing
+for traders, and getting monied passengers on board; but
+it behoves us to think what’s to be done now?’—‘My opinion
+is,’ said Jack, ‘that we keep up the farce another day or two
+until we get into clear seas again. That vessel, yonder, still
+keeps on the horizon, and she has good glasses on board.’—‘And
+the men?’ asked the captain. ‘I had rather, without
+more debate, go into this hen-pen here, and down into the
+cabin below, and in a quiet way <i>do</i> for our passengers, than
+stand the chance of a mutiny among the crew.’ Here my
+very blood curdled in my veins. ‘Dat is goot, and like mine
+brave capitain,’ said the Frenchman; ‘and yet Monsieur
+Jean say well mosh danger kill at present; but why not have
+de crew <i>above</i> deck vidout making no attention to de voyagers.
+Dey take not no notice. Miladi tink but of moon, and stars,
+and book; and for de <i>sleeping Lyon dere</i>, it were almost
+pity to cut his troat in any case. He ver coot faillow; like
+we chosen speerit. Sacre-bleu! I knew him a boy.’—[I
+had never seen the fellow until I was on the wrong side of
+my thirtieth birth-day.]—‘Alvays for de mischief,—stealing
+apples, beating his school-fellows, and oder lite speerited
+tricks. At last, he was expell de school. I say not dis praise
+from no love to him; for he beat me one, two time, when I
+vas secretaire to his uncle; and den run off vid my <i>soodheart</i>—so
+<span id="TN1">I vas well pleased make him bad turn.</span>’—‘Look, look!’
+said Jack, ‘the frigate gains on us; I partly see her hull, and
+the wind slackens.’ I now put my own glass through my
+little window, and could distinctly see the sails and rigging
+and part of the hull of our late convoy. I could perceive
+that many of her crew were aloft. It was a comfortable sight
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>to see a friendly power apparently so near; and there was a
+feeling of hopeless desolation when, on removing the glass,
+the vessel shrank into a dim, grey speck on the horizon. The
+captain uttered an infernal oath, and called aloud to his sailors,
+‘Seamen—ahoy—ahoy! Make all the sail ye can. Veer out
+the main-sheet—top-sails unreefed—royals and sky-sails up,’
+[<abbr lang='la' title="et cetera">&amp;c.</abbr> <abbr lang='la' title="et cetera">&amp;c.</abbr>] ‘Stretch every stitch of canvass. Keep her to
+the wind—keep her to the wind!’ I was surprised to find
+that our course was suddenly changed, as the vessel, which
+had previously driven before the breeze, was now evidently
+sailing with a side wind.</p>
+
+<p>The Demon Ship was made for fast sailing, and she literally
+flew like a falcon over the waves. <span id="TN2">Once more I turned to the
+horizon. God of mercy! the frigate again</span> began to sink upon
+the waters.</p>
+
+<p>I felt that in a few hours I might not only be butchered in
+cold blood myself, but might see Margaret—that was the
+thought that unmanned me. I tried to think if aught lay
+in our power to avert our coming fate. Nothing offered itself.
+We were entirely in the power of the Demon buccaneers.
+And I saw that all Girod could do was to gain a few hours’
+delay. My earnest desire now was to inform Margaret as
+quickly as possible of her coming fate. But after Girod’s
+parting injunction, I feared to precipitate the last fatal
+measures by any step that might seem taken with reference
+to them. I therefore lay still until morning was farther advanced.
+I then arose, and left my cabin. It was yet scarcely
+broad day, but many a face I had not before seen met my
+eye, many a countenance, whose untameable expression of
+ferocity had doubtless been deemed, even by the ruffian commander
+himself, good reason for hitherto keeping them from
+observation. All on the quarter-deck was quiet, and it seemed
+that the countess and her female attendants were still enjoying
+a calm and secure repose. I longed to descend and arouse
+them from a sleep which was so soon to be followed by a
+deeper slumber.</p>
+
+<p>I had now an opportunity of discovering the real nature of
+my sentiments towards Margaret. They stood the test which
+overthrows many a summer-day attachment. I felt that,
+standing as my soul now was on the verge of its everlasting
+fate, it lost not one of its feelings of tenderness. The sun
+arose, and the countess appeared on deck. I drew her to
+the stern of the vessel, so that her back was to the crew, and
+there divulged the fearful secret which so awfully concerned
+her. At first, her cheek was pale, her lips bloodless, and
+respiration seemed almost lost in terror and overpowering
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span>astonishment. She soon, however, gained comparative self-possession.
+‘I must be alone for a few moments,’ she said;
+‘perhaps you will join me below in a brief hour.’ When I
+joined her at the time she had appointed, a heavenly calm
+had stolen over her countenance. ‘Come and sit by me, my
+friend; our moments seem numbered on earth, but, oh! what
+an interminable existence stretches beyond it. In such a
+moment as this, how do we feel the necessity of some better
+stay than aught our own unprofitable lives can yield!’ Margaret’s
+Bible lay before her. It was open at the history of
+<i>His</i> sufferings on whom her soul relied. She summoned her
+maidens, and we all read and prayed together. Her attendants
+were two sisters, of less exalted mind than their mistress,
+but whose piety, trembling and lowly, was equally genuine.</p>
+
+<p>It was a difficult day to pass, urged by prudence, and the
+slender remains of hope, to appear with our wonted bearing
+before the crew. Too plain indications that our sentence
+was at length gone forth soon began to shew themselves.
+Margaret held me to her with a gentle and trembling tenacity,
+that rendered it difficult for me to leave her even for a moment;
+but I felt the duty of ascertaining whether any aid yet appeared
+in view, or whether Girod could effect aught for us.
+I walked, towards evening, round the quarter-deck—not a
+sail was to be seen on the horizon. I endeavoured to speak
+to Girod, but he seemed studiously and fearfully to avoid me.
+The captain was above, and the deck was thronged. I believe
+this desperate crew was composed of ‘all people, nations, and
+languages.’ Once only I met Girod’s eye as he passed me
+quickly in assisting to hoist a sail. He looked me fixedly and
+significantly in the face. It was enough: that expressive
+regard said, ‘Your sentence has gone forth!’ I instantly
+descended to the cabin, and my fellow-victims read in my
+countenance the extinction of hope. We now fastened the
+door, I primed my pistols, and placed them in my bosom, and
+clinging to one another we waited our fate. Margaret put
+her hand in mine with a gentle confidence, which our circumstances
+then warranted, and I held her close to me. She
+stretched out her other hand to her female attendants, who,
+clinging close together, each held a hand of their mistress.
+‘Dear Edward!’ said Margaret, grasping my arm. It was
+almost twelve years since I had heard these words from her
+lips. Unrestrained, at such a moment, by the presence of
+the domestics, Margaret and I used the most endearing expressions,
+and, like a dying husband and wife, bade solemn
+farewell to each other. We all then remained silent, our
+quick beating hearts raised in prayer, and our ear open to
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>every sound that seemed to approach the cabin. The ocean
+must undoubtedly be our grave; but whether the wave, the
+cord, the pistol, or the dagger, would be the instrument of
+our destruction, we knew not.</p>
+
+<p>The sun sunk in the waters, and the wind, as is often the
+case at sunset, died on the ocean. At this moment, I heard
+the voice of the captain—‘Up to the top of the mainmast,
+Jack, and see if there be any sail on the horizon.’ We distinguished
+the sound of feet running up the shrouds. A few
+moments elapsed ere the answer was received. At length,
+we heard a—‘Well, Jack, well?’—which was followed by
+the springing of a man on deck, and the words, ‘not a sail
+within fifty miles, I’ll be sworn.’—‘Well, then, do the work
+below!’ was the reply. ‘But (with an oath) don’t let’s have
+any squealing or squalling. Finish them quietly. And take
+all the trumpery out of the cabin, for we shall hold revel there
+to-night.’ A step now came softly down the cabin stair, and
+a hand tried the door, but found it fastened. I quitted Margaret,
+and placed myself at the entrance of the cabin. ‘Whoever,’
+said I, ‘attempts to come into this place, does it at the
+peril of his life. I fire the instant the latch is raised.’—A
+voice said, ‘Laissez moi entrer donc.’ I then unfastened
+the door. Girod entered, and locked it after him. He dragged
+in with him four strings, with heavy stones appended to
+them, and the same number of sacks. The females sunk on
+the floor. In the twinkling of an eye, Girod rolled up the
+carpet of the cabin, and took up the trap-door, which every
+traveller knows is to be found in the cabins of merchantmen.
+‘In—in,’ he said in French to the countess and myself. I
+immediately descended, received Margaret into my arms, and
+was holding them out for the other females, when the trap-door
+was instantly closed and bolted, the carpet laid down,
+the cabin door unlocked, and Girod called out, ‘Here you,
+Harry, Jack, how call you yourselves, I’ve done for two of dem.
+I can’t manage no more. Dat tamned Captain Lyon, when
+I stuff him in de sack, he almost brake de arm.’ Heavy feet
+trampling over the cabin floor, with a sound of scuffling and
+struggling, were now heard over our head. A stifled shriek,
+which died into a deep groan, succeeded—then two heavy
+splashes into the water, with the bubbling noise of something
+sinking beneath the waves, and the fate of the two innocent
+sisters was decided. ‘Where’s Monsieur Girod?’ at length
+said a rough voice.—‘Oh, he’s gone above,’ was the reply;
+‘thinks himself too good to kill any but <i>quality</i>.’—‘No, no,’
+answered the other, ‘I’m Girod’s, through to the back-bone—the
+funniest fellow of the crew. But he had a private
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span>quarrel against that captain down at the bottom of the sea
+there, so asks our commander not to let any body lay
+hands on him but himself. A very natural thing to ask.
+There—close that locker, heave out the long table, there’ll be
+old revel here to-night.’—At this moment, Girod again descended.
+‘All hands aloft, ma lads,’ he cried, ‘make no
+attention to de carpet dere—matters not, for I most fairst
+descend, and give out de farine for pasty. We have no more
+cursed voyagers, so may make revel here to naight vidout no
+incommode.’ He soon descended with a light into our wooden
+dungeon.</p>
+
+<p>‘Poor Katie, poor Mary. Alas! for their aged mother!’
+she said, while looking with horror at Girod.—‘I would have
+saved you all, had it been possible,’ said Jacqueminot, in
+French. ‘But how were all to be hid, and kept in this place?
+What I have done is at the risk of my life. But there is not
+a moment to be lost. I have the keeping of the stern-hold.
+Look you—here be two rows of meal sacks fore and aft. If
+you, miladi, can hide behind one, and you, colonel, behind
+the other, ye may have, in some sort, two little chambers to
+yourselves; or if you prefer the same hiding-place, take it,
+in heaven’s name, but lose not a moment.’—‘And what will
+be the end of all this?’ asked I, after some hurried expressions
+of gratitude.—‘God knoweth,’ he replied. ‘I will from time
+to time, when I descend to give out meal, and clean the place,
+bring you provisions. How long this can last—where we are
+going—whether in the end I can rescue you, time must
+be the shewer. Hide, hide—I dare not stay one moment
+longer.’ He rolled down a heap of biscuits, placed a pitcher
+of water by them, and departed.</p>
+
+<p>That night the Demon crew held their wild revelry over
+our head. Their fierce and iniquitous speech, their lawless
+songs, their awful and demoniac oaths, their wild intoxication,
+made Margaret thrill with a horror that half excited the wish
+to escape in death from the polluting vicinity of such infernal
+abominations. The light streamed here and there through
+a crevice in the trap-door, and I involuntarily trembled when
+I saw it fall on the white garment of Margaret, as if, even in
+that concealment, it might betray her. We dared scarcely
+whisper a word of encouragement or consolation to each other—dared
+scarcely breathe, or stir even a hand from the comfortless
+attitude in which we were placed. The captain expressed
+his regret that we had not, as matters turned out,
+been earlier disposed of, and made a sort of rough apology
+to his shipmates for the inconvenience our prolonged existence
+must have occasioned them. At length, the revellers
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>broke up. I listened attentively until I became convinced
+that no one occupied the cabin that night.</p>
+
+<p>Towards morning, as I supposed, I again distinguished
+voices in the cabin. ‘It blows a stiff gale,’ was the observation
+of Jack.—‘So much the better,’ replied the captain;
+‘the more way we make, the farther we get from all those
+cursed government vessels. I think we might now venture to
+fall on any merchantman that comes in our way. We must
+soon do something, for we have as yet made but a sorry sum
+out of our present voyage. Let’s see—four thousand sterling
+pounds that belonged to the captain there—rather to us—seeing
+we had taken him on board.’—‘Yes, yes, we have sacked
+the captain,’ observed Jack, facetiously. His companion
+went on—‘His watch, rings, and clothes; and two thousand
+dollars of the countess’s, and her jewels. This might be a
+fine prize to a sixteen-gun brig of some dozing government,
+but the Demon was built for greater things.’—‘I suppose,
+captain,’ said Jack, ‘we go on our usual plan, eh? The specie
+to be distributed among the ship’s company, and the jewels
+and personals to be appropriated, in a quiet way, by the officers?
+I hope there be no breach of discipline, Captain Vanderleer,
+in asking where might be deposited that secret casket,
+containing, you and I and one or two more know what? I
+mean that we took from the Spanish-American brig.’—‘It is
+in the stern-hold, beneath our feet at this moment,’ answered
+the captain.—‘A good one for dividing its content,’ said Jack.
+‘I’ll fetch a light in the twinkling of an eye.’—‘No need,’
+replied the captain. ‘I warrant me I can lay my hand on it
+in the dark.’ Without the warning of another moment the
+Demon commander was in our hold. I suppose it was about
+four in the morning. I had laid Margaret down on some old
+signal flags, in that division of the hold which Girod had assigned
+her, and had myself retired behind my own bulwark
+of meal-sacks, in order that my companion might possess, for
+her repose, something like the freedom of a small cabin to
+herself. I had scarcely time to glide round to the side of Margaret
+ere the merciless buccaneer descended. We almost inserted
+ourselves into the wooden walls of our hiding-place,
+and literally drew down the sacks upon us. The captain felt
+about the apartment with his hand, sometimes pushing it
+behind the sacks, and sometimes feeling under them. And
+now he passed his arms through those which aided our concealment.
+Gracious heaven! his hand discovered the
+countess’s garments; he grasped them tight; he began to
+drag her forward; but at this moment his foot struck against
+the casket for which he was searching. He stooped to seize
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>it, and, as his hold on Margaret slackened, I contrived to
+pass towards his hand a portion of the old flag-cloth, so as to
+impress him with the belief that it was the original object of
+his grasp. He dragged it forward, and let it go. But he had
+disturbed the compact adjustment of the sacks; and as the
+vessel was now rolling violently in a tempestuous sea, a terrible
+lurch laid prostrate our treacherous wall of defence, and
+we stood full exposed, without a barrier between ourselves
+and the ruffian commander of the Demon. He had gone to
+the light to pass his casket through the trap-door. The sun
+was rising, and the crimson hues of dawn meeting no other
+object in the hold save the depraved and hardened countenance
+of our keeper, threw on its swart complexion such a
+ruddy glow, as—contrasted with the surrounding darkness—gave
+him the appearance of some foul demon emerging from
+the abodes of the condemned, and bearing on his unhallowed
+countenance the reflection of the infernal fires he had quitted.
+That glow was, however, our salvation. The captain turned
+with an oath to replace the fallen sacks, and we felt half-doubtful,
+as he pushed them with violence against the beams
+where we stood, whether he had not actually discovered our
+persons, and taken this method of at once destroying them
+by bruises and suffocation. His work was, however, only
+accompanied by an imprecatory running comment on Girod’s
+careless manner of stowage. We were now again buried in
+our concealment; but another danger awaited us. Jacqueminot
+descended to the cabin. An involuntary though half-stifled
+shriek escaped him when he saw the trap-door open.
+He sprang into the hold, and when he beheld the captain,
+his ghastly smile of enquiry, for he spoke not, demanded if
+his ruin were sealed. ‘I have been seeing all your pretty
+work here, Monsieur,’ said the gruff captain, pointing to the
+deranged sacks, behind which we were concealed. I caught
+a glimpse through them of Girod’s despairing countenance.
+It was a fearful moment, for it seemed as if we were about
+to be involuntarily betrayed by our ally, at the very instant
+when we had escaped our enemy. Girod’s teeth literally
+chattered, and he murmered something about French gallantry
+and honour; and the countess being a lady, and the
+Captain Francillon an old acquaintance. ‘And so because
+you cut the throats of a couple of solan geese, you think he
+must not even see to the righting of his own stern-hold?’
+said the captain, with a gruff and abortive effort at pleasantry,
+for he felt Girod’s importance in amusing and keeping in
+good-humour his motley crew. Jacqueminot’s answer shewed
+that he was now <i lang="fr">au fait</i>; and thus we had a fourth rescue
+from the very jaws of death.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p>
+
+<p>Day after day passed away, and still we were the miserable,
+half-starved, half-suffocated, though unknown prisoners of this
+Demon gang. Girod at this period rarely dared to visit us.
+He came only when the business of the ship actually sent him.
+The cabin above was occupied at night by the captain and
+some of his most depraved associates, so that small alleviation
+of our fears was afforded us either by day or by night. At
+length, I began to fear that Margaret would sink under the
+confined air, and the constant excitement. It was agony indeed
+to feel her convulsed frame, and hear her faintly-drawn
+and dying breath, and know that I could not carry her into
+the reviving breezes of heaven, nor afford a single alleviation
+of her suffering, without at once snapping that thread of life
+which was now wearing away by a slow and lingering death.
+At length, her respiration began to partake of the loud and
+irrepressible character which is so often the precursor of dissolution.
+She deemed her hour drawing on, yet feebly essayed,
+for my sake, to stifle those last faint moans of expiring
+nature which might betray our concealment. I supported
+her head, poured a faltering prayer into her dying ear, wiped
+the death-dews from her face, and essayed to whisper expressions
+of deep and unutterable affection. At this moment, Girod
+descended to the hold. He put his finger on his lips significantly,
+and then whispered in French—‘Courage—Rescue!
+There is a sail on our weather bow. She is yet in the offing.
+Our captain marks her not; but I have watched her some
+time with a glass, and she appears to be a British sloop of
+war.’ I grasped Margaret’s hand. She faintly returned the
+pressure, but gently murmured, ‘Too late.’ Ere the lapse of
+a moment, it was evident that our possible deliverer was discovered
+by the Demon crew, for we could hear by the bustle
+of feet and voices that the ship was being put about; and the
+ferocious and determined voice of the buccaneer chief was
+heard, giving prompt and fierce orders to urge on the Demon.
+Girod promised to bring us more news, and quitted us. The
+rush of air into the hold seemed to have revived Margaret,
+and my hopes began to rise. Yet it was too soon evident
+that the motion of the vessel was increased, and that the crew
+were straining every nerve to avoid our hoped-for deliverer.
+After a while, however, the stormy wind abated; the ship
+became steadier, and certainly made less way in the waves.
+A voice over our head said distinctly in French—‘The sea is
+gone down, and the sloop makes signal to us to lay to.’ A
+quarter of an hour elapsed, and the voice again said, ‘The
+sloop chaces us!’ Oh! what inexpressibly anxious moments
+were those. We could discover from the varying cries on deck
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>that the sloop sometimes gained on the Demon, while at
+others the pirate got fearful head of her pursuer. At length,
+Girod descended to the hold. ‘The die is cast!’ he said in
+his native language. ‘The sloop gains fast on us. We are
+about to clear the deck for action.’—‘God be praised!’ I
+ejaculated.—‘Amen!’ responded a faint and gentle voice.—‘Do
+not praise him too soon,’ said Girod, shrugging his shoulders;
+‘our captain is preparing for a victory. The Demon
+has mastered her equals, ay, and her superiors, and this sloop
+is our inferior in size and numbers. The captain has hoisted
+the Demon flag, and restored her name to the stern.’—‘But
+has his motley crew,’ whispered I, anxiously, ‘ever encountered
+a <i>British</i> foe of equal strength?’—‘I cannot tell; I
+have been in her but a short time, and will be out of her on
+the first occasion,’ said Girod, as he hastily quitted us. We
+now heard all the noise of preparation for an engagement.
+Cannon were lashed and primed; concealed port-holes opened,
+and guns placed at them. Seeing ultimate escape impossible,
+the captain took in sail, and determined to give his
+vessel the advantage of awaiting the foe in an imposing state
+of preparation for action. He harangued his men in terms
+calculated to arouse their brute courage, and excite their
+cupidity. I heard the captain retire to that part of the
+vessel which had been the countess’s cabin, and there take a
+solemn and secret oath of his principal shipmates, that they
+would, if boarded by a successful enemy, scuttle the Demon,
+and sink her, and her crew, and her captors, in one common
+grave. It appeared, then, that either the failure or the success
+of the sloop would alike seal our destruction.</p>
+
+<p>Not a ray of light now penetrated through the chinks of
+the trap-door, and, from the heavy weights which had fallen
+over it, I was inclined to think that shot, or even cannon-balls,
+had been placed over the mouth of our prison. I listened
+anxiously for a signal of the sloop’s nearing us. At length, a
+ship-trumpet, at a distance, demanded, safe and unhurt, the
+persons of Colonel Francillon, the Countess of Falcondale, and
+two female domestics. It was then evident that the pirate’s
+stratagem at Malta had transpired. The Demon’s trumpet
+made brief and audacious reply:—‘Go seek them at the bottom
+of the sea.’ A broadside from the sloop answered this
+impudent injunction, and was followed by a complement in
+kind from the Demon, evidently discharged from a greater
+number of guns. Long and desperately raged the combat
+above us; but the pirates’ yells waxed fainter and fainter;
+while the victorious shouts of the British seamen, mixed with
+the frequent and fearful cry, ‘No quarter, no quarter to the
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span>robbers!’ became each instant louder and more triumphant.
+At length, every sound of opposition from the Demon crew
+seemed almost to cease. But there was still so much noise
+on deck, that I in vain essayed to make my voice heard;—and
+for the trap-door, it defied all my efforts—it was immovable.
+At this crisis, the ship, which had hitherto been springing
+and reeling with the fierce fire she had received from her
+adversary, and the motion of her own guns, suddenly began to
+<i>settle</i> into an awful and suspicious quiescence. But the
+victors were apparently too busy in the work of retribution to
+heed this strange and portentous change. <i>I</i> perceived, however,
+only too clearly that the Demon was about finally to
+settle for sinking. After the lapse of a few seconds, it seemed
+that the conquerors themselves became at last aware of
+the treacherous gulf that was preparing to receive them; and
+a hundred voices exclaimed, ‘To the sloop!—to the sloop!
+The ship is going down—the ruffians are sinking her!’ I
+now literally called out until my voice became a hoarse scream.
+I struck violently against the top of our sinking dungeon. I
+pushed the trap-door with my whole force. All was in vain.—I
+heard the sailors rushing eagerly to their own vessel, and
+abandoning that of the pirates to destruction. I took Margaret’s
+hand, and held it up towards heaven, as if it could
+better than my own plead there for us. All was silent. Not
+a sound was heard in the once fiercely manned Demon, save
+the rushing of the waters in at the holes where she had been
+scuttled by her desperate crew. At last, as if she had received
+her fill, she began to go down with a rapidity which
+seemed to send us, in an instant, many feet deeper beneath
+the waves, and I now expected every moment to hear them
+gather over the deck, and then overwhelm us for ever. I
+uttered a prayer, and clasped Margaret in my arms. But no
+voice, no sigh, proceeded from the companion of my grave.</p>
+
+<p>At this moment, voices were heard; weights seemed to be
+removed from the trap-door! It was opened; and the words,
+‘Good heaven! the fellow is right; they are here, sure
+enough!’ met my almost incredulous ear. I beheld a British
+officer, a sailor or two, and Girod, with his hands tied behind
+him. I held up my precious burden, who was received into
+the arms of her compatriots, and then, like one in a dream,
+sprang from my long prison. Perhaps it might be well that
+Margaret’s eye was half-closed in death at that moment; for
+the deck of the sinking Demon offered no spectacle for
+woman’s eye. I shall never forget the scene of desolation presented
+by that deck, lying like a vast plank or raft of slaughtered
+bodies, almost level with the sea, whose waters dashed
+<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span>furiously over it, and then receding from their still ineffectual
+attempt to overwhelm the vessel, returned all dyed with
+crimson to the ocean; while the sun setting in a stormy and
+angry sky, threw his rays—for the last time—in lurid and
+fitful gleams on the ruined Demon.</p>
+
+<p>As we hurriedly prepared to spring into the boat, I saw that
+Girod’s pinioned members refused him the prompt aid necessary
+for effecting an escape at such a moment. I returned,
+seized a bloody cutlass that lay on deck, and, without leave
+of the officer, cut at once through the bonds which confined
+our first deliverer. ‘This man,’ I said, as we seated ourselves,
+‘has been the instrument of Heaven for our preservation. I
+will make myself answerable for his liberty and kind treatment.’
+Girod seized my hand, which received a passionate
+Gallic salute. Our sailors now rowed hard to avoid being
+drawn into the vortex of the sinking ship. Merciful God!
+we were then <i>out of the Demon</i>! I supported Margaret in
+my arms; and as I saw her bosom heave, a renewed glow of
+hope rushed to my heart.</p>
+
+<p>We had not been on board the sloop many minutes, ere,
+slowly and awfully, the Demon sunk to the same eternal grave
+to which she had so often doomed her victims. We saw
+the top of the main-mast, which had borne her fatal flag
+above the waters, tremble like a point on their very surface,
+and then vanish beneath them. A frightful chasm yawned
+for a moment—it was then closed by the meeting waters,
+which soon rolled peacefully over the vessel they had engulfed;
+and the Demon, so long the terror of the seas and
+the scourge of mariners, disappeared for ever.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Should any reader have felt just sufficient interest in the
+narrative to <i>wonder</i> whether Margaret died, and whether
+Colonel Francillon attended her funeral as chief-mourner;
+or whether she recovered, and was married to the Colonel,—I
+can only briefly say, that the sloop put into Naples,
+where the countess was soon placed under a skilful physician.
+He pronounced her case hopeless, and my relative had only
+the melancholy satisfaction of reflecting that her dying hour
+would be peaceful, and her lovely remains honoured by
+Christian burial. She passed from the hands of her physician
+into those of the British ambassador’s chaplain; but I do
+not think it could have been for the purpose of religious interment—as
+I enjoyed, for nearly forty years after this period,
+the inestimable privilege of calling the colonel and the countess
+my revered father and mother!</p>
+
+
+
+<hr class='chap x-ebookmaker-drop'>
+<div class="transnote">
+Transcriber’s Notes
+
+
+<ol>
+<li> All spelling kept as in the original, including variations in hyphenation. </li>
+<li> Letters missing from original scan.  Best approximation of the text is <a href="#TN1">“I vas well pleased make him bad turn.”</a></li>
+<li> Page 15, line 13: best effort was made to account for the missing words in
+     the original scan: <a href="#TN2">“Once more I turned to the horizon. God of mercy! the frigate again”</a>. </li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78318 ***</div>
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author	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-03-28 17:02:44 -0700
committer	www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org>	2026-03-28 17:02:44 -0700
commit	29332092f35702c8afafde6e09c411b8d1635c51 (patch)
tree	0d4e7d71e8ae6195134cf186f88f7e82b88026fb /78318-h