rritated by the continued vociferation of the priest, and
stumbling at that moment over the carcase of a dog that had given up the
ghost a few hours before, seized it by the hind leg, and flung it at the
holy man with such true aim and force, as brought him to the ground.
Luckily the monk swooned away with terror at this unexpected buffeting
in the flesh from Satan, and his noise was consequently stopped. The
next moment the party plunged into the bushy path, and were instantly
lost to the view of the inhabitants, if indeed any were looking after
them.

Advancing swiftly along the rough path, and losing their way two or
three times, they at length heard the light dash of the surf upon the
sand-beach; but, to their no small alarm, they also plainly heard, from
time to time, the low hum of voices, though their language was not
distinguishable. Fearing the worst, Morton advanced alone to
reconnoitre, notwithstanding Isabella's earnest entreaties not to be
left alone. Moving slowly and cautiously towards the point whence
proceeded the voices, the soft sand rendering his footsteps inaudible,
he approached as near as he durst, and listened for some minutes with
the most fixed attention, to catch a word that would indicate the
character and nation of the speakers, but in vain; and he was on the
point of returning to his friends in despair, when he plainly
distinguished the exclamation, "d----n my eyes," uttered by some one at
no great distance from where he stood. No Sontag or Malibran ever
warbled a note that contained a hundredth part of the sweetness and
music that was comprised in that simple and unsophisticated ejaculation;
it decided in an instant, and beyond all possibility of doubt, who and
what was the speaker. His joy was inconceivable, and he could scarce
refrain from giving vent to it in a loud shout. Returning immediately,
he communicated the joyful intelligence to his friends; and the whole
party, with light hearts and rapid steps, advanced towards the beach.
Just as they stepped from the shade and covert of the bushes, a pistol,
the bright barrel of which glittered in the star-light, was presented to
Morton's breast; and the holder thereof, in a grum voice, commanded him
to "stand!"

"Heave to, and let's overhaul your papers," continued the speaker, who
was immediately recognized, by the voice, as Jones, the boatswain of the
Albatross.

"Hush, hush, don't speak so loud; 'tis I, 'tis Morton--Jones, is that
yo