Graham's Magazine Vol XXXIII No. 3 September 1848

"Curses on the girl!" muttered the man at the helm.

"O, I was careless, Diego; I will bring the lantern in a moment;" and laying down the hat on the companion-way beside the pirate, who paid no attention to the movements around him, she glided back to the cabin.

"Here, lady," said she, "be quick – hand this lantern to the man at the helm, and then drop silently behind him while he is lighting it. I will immediately follow and take your place beside him. You understand me?"

"Yes, clearly."

"Well, as soon as I begin to speak with him, let yourself down into the boat by the painter, which I will soon cut apart, and then you will at least be out of the hands of your enemies."

Julia took the hand of Florette in her own, and warmly thanked her, but the girl impatiently checked her.

"Take this pistol with you also."

"But why?" inquired Julia, with a woman's instinctive dread of such weapons.

"O, I don't mean you should shoot any body, but if the boat drifts a little out of the brig's course, you might not be able to make yourself heard on her deck."

"True, true."

"The night is so still that a pistol-shot would be heard at a good distance."

"O, yes, I see it all now; I was so anxious to escape from this terrible ship that I thought of nothing else; and there is poor John."

"You must not think of him – it will be no worse for him if you go, no better if you remain. Here, take the lantern – say nothing as you hand it to the man at the tiller, but do as I told you."

Pressing the hand of Florette, Julia mounted to the deck with a painfully beating heart, but with a firm step. She handed the lantern to the steersman, who received it surlily, growling some rough oath, half to himself, at her delay, and leaning upon the tiller, proceeded to relight the binnacle-lamp. Julia fell back cautiously, and in another moment the light form of Florette filled her place.

"I was very careless, Diego," said she.

"Yes," replied he, gruffly.

"Well, I will be more careful next time."

"You'd better."

Julia, during the short time of this conversation, had disappeared over the stern, and as the vessel was sailing before a steady wind, found little difficulty in sliding down the painter into the yawl. She could hardly suppress an exclamation when a moment afterward she found the ship rapidly gliding away from her, and leaving her alone upon the waters in so frail a support. Her situation was, indeed, one that might well appall any of her sex. To a sailor it would already have been one of entire safety, but to her it seemed as if every succeding wave would sink the little boat as it gracefully rose and fell upon their swell; but seating herself by the tiller, she managed to guide its motions, and with a calm reliance upon that God whose supporting arm she knew to be as much around her, when alone in the wide waste of waters, as when beside her own hearth-stone, in quiet and happy England, she patiently awaited the issue of her bold adventure.