New York.

Mr Templemore was active and intelligent; their affairs prospered; and,
in a few years, they anticipated a return to their native soil with a
competence. But the autumn of the second year after their arrival
proved very sickly; the yellow fever raged; and among the thousands who
were carried off, Mr Templemore was a victim, about three weeks after
his wife had been brought to bed of twins. Mrs Templemore rose from
her couch a widow and the mother of two fine boys. The loss of Mr
Templemore was replaced by the establishment with which he was
connected, and Mr Witherington offered to his cousin that asylum which,
in her mournful and unexpected bereavement, she so much required. In
three months her affairs were arranged; and with her little boys hanging
at the breasts of two negro nurses,--for no others could be procured who
would undertake the voyage,--Mrs Templemore, with Coco as male servant,
embarked on board of the good ship _Circassian_, A1, bound to Liverpool.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE GALE.

Those who, standing on the pier, had witnessed the proud bearing of the
_Circassian_ as she gave her canvas to the winds, little contemplated
her fate: still less did those on board; for confidence is the
characteristic of seamen, and they have the happy talent of imparting
their confidence to whomsoever may be in their company. We shall pass
over the voyage, confining ourselves to a description of the
catastrophe.

It was during a gale from the north-west, which had continued for three
days, and by which the _Circassian_ had been driven into the Bay of
Biscay, that at about twelve o'clock at night, a slight lull was
perceptible. The captain, who had remained on deck, sent down for the
chief mate. "Oswald," said Captain Ingram, "the gale is breaking, and I
think before morning we shall have had the worst of it. I shall lie
down for an hour or two; call me if there be any change."

Oswald Bareth, a tall, sinewy-built, and handsome specimen of
transatlantic growth, examined the whole circumference of the horizon
before he replied. At last his eyes were steadily fixed to leeward:
"I've a notion not, sir," said he; "I see no signs of clearing off to
leeward: only a lull for relief, and a fresh hand at the bellows, depend
upon it."

"We have now had it three days," replied Captain Ingram, "and that's the
life of a summer gale."

"Yes," rejoined the mate; "but always provided that it don't blow back
aga