ultation. "The land breeze has made, and we will endeavor to improve it,
and get inside the cape, lest the morning light give us more of these
Frenchmen."

The order for 'Mr. Trysail!' 'the captain calls the master!' passed in a
low call from mouth to mouth, but it was unanswered. A seaman told the
expecting young commander, that the surgeon desired his presence forward.
A gleaming of lights and a little group at the foot of the fore-mast, was
a beacon not to be mistaken. The weatherbeaten master was in the agony;
and his medical attendant had just risen from a fruitless examination of
his wounds, as Ludlow approached.

"I hope the hurt is not serious?" hurriedly whispered the alarmed young
sailor to the surgeon, who was coolly collecting his implements, in order
to administer to some more promising subject. "Neglect nothing that your
art can suggest."

"The case is desperate, Captain Ludlow," returned the phlegmatic surgeon;
"but if you have a taste for such things, there is as beautiful a case
for amputation promised in the fore-topman whom I have had sent below, as
offers once in a whole life of active practice!"

"Go, go--" interrupted Ludlow, half pushing the unmoved man of blood away,
as he spoke; "go, then, where your services are needed."

The other cast a glance around him, reproved his attendant, in a sharp
tone, for unnecessarily exposing the blade of some ferocious-looking
instrument to the dew, and departed.

"Would to God, that some portion of these injuries had befallen those who
are younger and stronger!" murmured the captain, as he leaned over the
dying master. "Can I do aught to relieve thy mind, my old and worthy
shipmate?"

"I have had my misgivings, since we have dealt with witchcraft!" returned
Trysail, whose voice the rattling of the throat had already nearly
silenced "I have had misgivings--but no matter. Take care of the ship--I
have been thinking of our people--you'll have to cut--they can never lift
the anchor--the wind is here at north."

"All this is ordered. Trouble thyself no further about the vessel; she
shall be taken care of, I promise you.--Speak of thy wife, and of thy
wishes in England."

"God bless Mrs. Trysail! She'll get a pension, and I hope contentment! You
must give the reef a good, berth, in rounding Montauk--and you'll
naturally wish to find the anchors again, when the coast is clear--if you
can find it in your conscience, say a good word of poor old Ben Trysail,
i