zon from the mast-head of the _Windsor Castle_.

Chapter XLIX

"She stood a moment as a Pythoness
Stands on her tripod, agonised and full
Of inspiration gather'd from distress,
When all the heart-strings, like wild horses, pull
The heart asunder; then, as more or less
Their speed abated or their strength grew dull,
She sunk down on her seat by slow degrees,
And bow'd her throbbing head o'er trembling knees."

BYRON.

It was with deep regret that Newton gave directions for the ship's head to
be again directed on her course to England; but the property under his
charge was of too great value to warrant risking it by cruising after the
pirates, the superior sailing of whose vessel afforded no hopes of success.
The melancholy situation of Madame de Fontanges threw a gloom over the
party, which was communicated even to the seamen; while the anguish of M.
de Fontanges, expressed with all the theatrical violence characteristic of
his nation, was a source of continual reminiscence and regret. They had
been four days on their voyage, making little progress with the light and
baffling winds, when they were shrouded in one of those thick fogs which
prevail in the latitude of the Cape de Verds, and which was rendered more
disagreeable by a mizzling rain.

On the sixth day, about twelve o'clock, the horizon cleared to the
northward, and the fog in that quarter was rolled away by a strong breeze
which rippled along the water. Newton, who was on deck, observed the
direction of the wind to be precisely the reverse of the little breeze to
which their sails had been trimmed; and the yards of the _Windsor Castle_
were braced round to meet it. The gust was strong, and the ship, laden as
she was, careened over to the sudden force of it, as the top-gallant sheets
and halyards were let fly by the directions of the officer of the watch.
The fog, which had still continued thick to leeward, now began to clear
away; and, as the bank dispersed, the Marquis de Fontanges, who was
standing on the poop by the side of Newton, cried out, "_Voila un
batiment!_" Newton looked in the direction pointed out, and discovered the
hull of a vessel looming through the fog, about a quarter of a mile to
leeward of the _Windsor Castle_. One minute's scrutiny convinced him that
it was the pirate, who, not having been expeditious in trimming his sails,
_laid in irons_, as seamen term it, heeling over to the blast. The _Windso