ating, and we knew
that the ship lay close on our track; then farther off and deadened,
and we hoped that she had lost us. Again dreadfully close, so that a
shell struck the chart-room full, and crushed it into splinters not
bigger than your finger, then dying away to leave the stillness of the
mist behind it. An awful chase, enduring many minutes; a chase when I
went hot and cold, now filled with hope, then seeming to stand on the
very brink of death. But at last the firing ceased. We left our course,
steaming for some hours due south across the very track of the nameless
ship; and we went headlong into the fog, the men standing yet at their
posts, no soul giving a thought to the lesser danger that was begotten
of our speed; every one of us held in that strange after-tension which
follows upon calamity.

When I left the bridge it was midnight. I was soaked to the skin and
nigh frozen, and the water ran even from my hair; but a hot hand was
put into mine as I entered the cabin, and then a thousand questions
rained upon me.

"I'll tell you by-and-by, Mary. Were you very much afraid?"

She tossed her head and seemed to think.

"I was a bit afraid, Mark--a--a--little bit!"

"And what did you do all the time?"

"I--oh, I nursed Paolo--he's dying."

The man truly lay almost at death's door; but his delirium had passed;
and he slept, muttering in his dream, "I can't go to the City--Black;
you know it--let me get aboard. Hands off! I told you the job was
risky"; and he tossed and turned and fell into troubled slumber. And I
could not help a thought of sorrow, for I feared that he would hang if
ever we set foot ashore.

I returned to the saloon sadly, though all was now brightness there. We
served out grog liberally for the forward hands, and broke champagne
amongst us.

"Gentlemen," said the skipper, giving us the toast, "you owe your lives
to the Banks; and, please God, I'll see you all in New York before
three days."

And he kept his word; for we sighted Sandy Hook, and harm had come to
no man that fought the unequal fight.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DRINKING HOLE IN THE BOWERY.

The beauty of the entrance to the bay of New York, the amazing medley
of shipping activity and glorious scenery, have often been described.
Even to one who comes upon the capital of the New World, having seen
many cities and many men, there is a charm in the sweeping woods and
the distant heights, in the group of islets, and the ma