ter; she makes an effort to back off. It
is too late; she strikes. The wind rises to a heavy gale. We see her
go to pieces, and never a soul left to tell the story, never a plank of
her that hangs together. She's gone, and we go free. That's all, your
honor, and may God have mercy on their souls, say I," added the solemn
voice of the boatswain in the silence.

"A frightful catastrophe, indeed, and a terrible one! I do not wonder
at your sadness. But, young gentlemen, do not take it so to heart. It
is the fate of war, and war is always frightful."

"Did you find out the name of the ship, boatswain?" asked General
Greene.

"Yes, your honor; the Radnor, thirty-six."

"Could no one have been saved?" queried General Knox.

"No one, sir. No boat could have lived in that sea a moment. We could
n't put back, could do no good if we had, and so we came on to
Philadelphia, and that's all."

"No, general," cried Seymour; "it's not all. We will tell the general
the whole story, Talbot. You remember, sir, the raid on the Wilton
place and the capture of the colonel and his daughter?" The general
nodded. "Well, sir, before the Ranger sailed, I received a note from
Miss Wilton saying they were to be sent to England in the Radnor."

"You received the note? I thought she was Mr. Talbot's betrothed, Mr.
Seymour!"

"I thought so too, general; but it seems that we are both wrong.
Lieutenant Seymour captured her during his visit there with Colonel
Wilton," said Talbot, with a faint smile.

"I am very sorry for you, Talbot, and you are a fortunate man, Mr.
Seymour. But go on; we are all friends here. Did you say they were to
go on the Radnor?"

"Yes, sir. The pursuing frigate was recognized by one of my men who
had been pressed and flogged while on her, as the Radnor, the ship on
which they were. I heard the man say so just as we neared the reef.
To go through the pass was to lead the English ship to destruction and
cause the death of those we--of the colonel, sir," continued Seymour,
in some confusion. "To refrain from attempting the pass was to lose
the ship and all it meant for our cause. I could not decide. I say
frankly I could not condemn those I--our friends to death, and I could
not lose the ship either. This old man knew it all. He has known me
from a child. He spoke out boldly, and laid my duty before me, and
pleaded with me--"

"He did not need it, your honor. No, sir; he would have done it
a