and miserable. He knew the vessel would pass near
enough for him to hail it and have a boat sent for him; but then he
would miss his intended visit to Captain Lane's, and his future
happiness depended on that visit.

While he was indulging in these bitter reflections, a schooner suddenly
flew past the island, and, to his amazement, he saw the Irish student,
Terrence Malone, whom he had been alternately praying for and cursing
all night, standing on the deck apparently in the best of health and
spirits. The scoundrel even had the audacity to wave him an adieu as
he passed.

CHAPTER X.

THE SILENT GUNNER.

Of course, Terrence Malone had played a practical joke on the English
lieutenant, and while the latter was passing the night on the gloomiest
island of all the Maryland coast, the former was sweetly dreaming of
dear old Ireland, in the most comfortable bed the tavern afforded. Next
morning the captain of the _Xenophon_ sent ashore for Lieutenant Matson
to come aboard, as they were about to hoist anchor. Terrence, Fernando
and Sukey were just going aboard the schooner as the messenger came.
Fernando had passed the most miserable night of his existence, and now,
pale and melancholy, went aboard the schooner utterly unconscious of the
fact that some one was watching him through a glass from the big house
on the hill.

Terrence was as jolly as usual and had almost forgotten the lieutenant.
Just as the schooner was about to sail, ensign Post came aboard and
asked for Mr. Malone. Terrence was sitting aft the main cabin smoking a
cigar, when the ensign, approaching, asked:

"Where is Lieutenant Matson? I was told he went shooting with you last
evening."

"Sure he did. You will find him on Duck Island enjoying the sport I've
no doubt. Faith, I had almost forgotten to tell ye to touch at the
island and take him off, as ye sailed out of the harbor."

The ensign looked puzzled at this and said:

"This is strange,--this is certainly very extraordinary! Would he stay
on the island all night?"

Terrence assured him that the lieutenant was a great sport and that the
best shooting was just before day. The Englishman returned to his boat
and was rowed to the man-of-war to report, while the schooner weighed
anchor and sailed out of the harbor. The _Xenophon_ followed two hours
later, having first sent a boat to Duck Island for the lieutenant, who
swore to shoot the Irishman at sight. There was no time for him to call