LEON ARD LINDSAY,

Mataura Ensign, Volume 14, Issue 1009, 29 August 1890, Page 5

LEON ARD LINDSAY,

THE fiTORY OF A BUCCANEER', ll*;-"" r AN'&te^.'BMCH. i } .- A'' :^' pnfisfs' atald' of the last and, shtqe . booWj Uke men, have their ohanoea, and sometimes, achiqye undeserved fame, or snffer unmerited dis- . astejV j.«0' ;" Leonard IJhdaay, the Story of a Baccantier," haa fallen into a' yery unjust fiprgetfulnßßS. :i, Th0 J tale ia one of adventure : it amaoks of flaa^ttifcfattabnglyasonfe ofilfarryatrs ; it drftWß a Scott; himself could do ; aad it tells its story In An Ehgngh ]fepu*e and crisp ! as thatiof Robert LoutfS BteffenattiK Otrfreaders will haVo a rare literary treat jn ttilelrffltureof the days when there was " uo «age wftn Spain beyond ttie line."] ' ' ' CHAPTER I. ' ' - Qt IK BOYHOOD, AND HOW BEING OABT AWAY AT [SP£A /: I AH CABBIED TO THB WBST INDIES * AQAINOT mr win. ..; .- ,., , .... ,'„ . Jfc.Wrfa in thC'iair sunlight of jaJAJay morning,, in,she year of Grace 1672^ that- that great brave ship, the Golden Grove of <{LuHt% Hoisted fhet broad, sails, with many •« flattering* pendant and streamer afepve th*o t . >an<i stood proudly idown the Firth «f cljertii, designing to reaoh the ppen ocean,.- riot, far'ifrom. ihe hill, well known to mariners by the name of the North Berwick Law/ On.TwatdLof the Cjoldon Grove, I r Leonard Lindsay^then ia my twenty-seared yeltofWas, youfmuat .knowh a Bailor, and I flopfeabbld one. -<My father was a fisherman, a£4;*e-I may srtyfMaiCoWe.was-myq^dle. llahya-rough rboking; in truQi.it bestowed: «p«tiine,.for ; itf was< his use. even before I otoMfgtf alopej to oarry me<witibhfcn?a ■$&•< m wrapped up, it may bo, in a tatteredjßail, mother, with a'ored upon he^baok,. j^Wßaeyedi through the, landward towns, -and " toihefrhotwes of thegentry, to seU, the-Bpoi} oi lifcOk and net. . < •)-... • „ W$ fared hard/ and worked hard; for no mfe&ihdnatrioas folk lived in the fisher-town asaKitk Lfeslie, a pleasant andjpwctyy snpt, , maglfiot -far fwtanthe East of Weak; of Iflfe, ; . t]^ ;^lKviefLtiidsay and Jess, his, wite daidilni^.taothetr. ; ; Many ia,wea?7inigbt and , d^^w»oome and gone efoee J ; jbiehelcl^tbat KH|rinxphCreon I) was . born ; bat -<I can. yet sAntjiMfeyefl and aeerour cottage and > on*. W<rt— edited the ,"' Boyal , Thistle*— rooking^ *f sttie&tee of the long jj^pgh trier of uuhevfn whfaotene,7 gathbrid ; from the . wild , mnija a^etodiwhwh ran into •thflr^aand, sheltered, th* fittlel fl&her.harbour,tfonned by the barn o£BalWsarie, Wliere it joins tihe;waters : of its BEgkpcKflß to the salt bme.. ;i Opposite ; oue, hnteei^rafc fc<prettyhgreror <bofl?p<oc,rfßai \gs c*Bedrfy that I».to <ay< wlfttfo hfil, mpewypf 6*%ht -green t«rf, with bunches of .bent,ft&d IqagtttM*, whioh rustled ,^lth a- sharp wd oonkl r when .the p eSftt -wind -j blew : *neU,; «&t|taeeping[;co&ily : into the'ohimneyoijeuk, wqrwuld >liAten .to 'the roaring of the n». the boofc^! was ;oftitoti^ brown wtth nets or with W^ eailtf etretobed there to dS^> find below it - the» 'llur, h&t «biuied in . ttti Mttd, old boate,t*kCHilde)*ig away, and Wtefesnd oart>*U Bhinered, bleaohbg like SboiieeintbefinnaUdthertrtu. *aniemboit.old-DavJe liindsay my father :.< (He; was ai-stern,: ibigt man,i with^a gnsly grey Hard, /.shaved but »nee , a month. ; No fisher. ,on (i the coast had a£eoxari hand for the ' tiller ,or a firmer giipe to haul af t ;< . the sheet , of . the ragsall in a fresh breeze .and a; gathering ee^i Ofteut when we-were rising and falling on-the easterly swell, half-a-soore miles 6om SSrk lisslie pler» he loved* to tellmeoldwwrld tales and sing, old-world songs. of the cea. Then would he recount how the Rover Mak tfys bell whioh good abbot Ignatius, of Afarbrdthwick, caused to be placed upon the wild Bell Hock, as a guide to. po<« mariners ; «u^ how the pirate dreed the> weird — that is, underwent, the fate— he had jftepared for himself} and lost with ship and crew on that viry reef. Sometimes, too, he would drop his voice, and when J came oiose to bim, he tnrald speak of great monsters in the sea ; fof tile ocean snake, whose head looked np at the bridge of Stirling; and whose, tail went nine times around tho Bass ; . of singing mermaids who oome upon the 'yellow sands at night, add beguile men with their f^ae lays, till they leave house and home, being bewitched ly the***glamour of elfin palaces nnder ther tnine; and, most terrible of all, of phantom dups .-with orews of ghosts, which sailors see by the pale glimmerings of the moon, When it shines through tiie driving acrid, upon a mirk midnight and a roaring' «ea. But, then, if I waa fright«hed and cried, my father would straightway ebange the theme, and burst ont with a strong clear voice into some load fishing song, ofc, what I loved better still, into some brave, aheient ballad, about the fair kingdom of Scotland, and its gallant kings and stalwart knights ; and of such, my favourite was the U& of Sir Patrick Spens, for he was both a knight and a sailor. Ihe king aits in Dunfermline towo, Driaking the blade-red win& ' 0 whore will J get » B^eely sMjiper To sail tnis sup of nine t Then tip and sp^ke iut Itnighf , Sat at the king'.s right knee, EBr ?atriok Spens wthe bestaallor That ever sailed the sea. Loan yet hear my father's strong voice vflaing over the dash of the water and tbe .-'BB>an of the wind, as he sung the brave tqyage of Sir Patrick to N&ioway, to bring hone the king's i, daughter; but his tones Iriold sink and grow hoarfce aud low, when ? he-Chanted the storm, and the perishing of aH the fair company on the voyage home. ', ■ O l ft»fcr mile off Aberdeen tHs fifty fathom dee®. And then liei gudeWPatrick Spens, - Wi' the Seota lords at Us fßefc My father's long home was also the bottom ? ozthe sea. One wild March day, the coble Hft Kirk Leslie pier without mo. I staid at psxofi mending a dredge-net with my ■ sit^wier. The easteilv bar was on the '^OfltMt,' that is to snv, thiok cold mists • aiid a keen wind. As the sun rose high bo .did the tempest; we could see nought seaward, for the grey fog vraa out upon the Ureter, but every ( wave oame white, over and '^OVer the pier, from end to end. My mother to and fro, wan, and praying, to her- ■ jpf ; as; indeed .did many, another fisherTWiJe, foy they had great'eause. The night was awful. I sat towering beside, my tmnther, who was cocking herself on a settle . fwith her apron over her head ; or now and •ithen stole down to the kaoh, to where men • f 'atpodwith lanterns upon masts to show the ~3&atbour mouth to the poor folks at sea. ZVkne boats; with crows pale and worn, made land, before the day ; an h6ur after dawn "Oifcr coble came tossing to. the outside belt of ' : the surf— but she was ix.-tt6m upwards. „/,■ In a month after this, my mother and I ♦Went to her father's, .a very old man, and a -reverend elder of k -jfre- kirk. He sent me to 4 >eohool to Doininie?Bucliuaan, a learned carle, who by his own account behoved to be of the ;*ace.or the great Georclie Buchanan, oi whom •-'t^r tell merry tales, whioh surely are idle fabe> for he was a severe, gravo man, v and handled the tawso unmercifully, as, his fxoyal pupil, gentle King Jamie, oould in his* r , tinie well testify. At school I was diligent, jtarid pleaßf4 master and friends. ,>.;■ Afterwards, np.to my sixteenth birthday, I "'Went much a fishing in .the boat of Saunders : ??*? tl ßßk|ut 6 > my maternal unole, when de- . s - sizing to Bee more of my oountry than could ''be descried in our farthest voyages between ;.Bjrk Leslie pier and the deep^Bea fisheries at IJBle of May, I made|many trips, fo^ tho s^aee of near fiveyears, ? in the efyntprig Jean Livingstone, belon?ing ;; to. Kirkaldyj, 1 daring which time 1 twice visited the Thames and the oity of London ; tt plying also once each ryoar with a great cargo - of, herrings to Antwerp, in the Low Oountries. But still I , wished to see the world further ' : from home,' and to this iutent preferred rather "to go on boaird tiie Golden Grove of Leith as 7 'ai common sailor than to be mate of the Jean ' Lbingstone,' a promotion whioh was offered ?-'mL by, Jbtel Svmnrop^^OTerand part owner '"' '„ ,^fee reason pf } my coming to think oi tEe ,'Csldeh Grove was; that the Jean Livingstone a cargo of goods from . Yarmouth to j ; r^ey.-yjUlo, thoy^.were doliyered «V close by.4he Jjp^tjj ahjlp, uien preparing at fethe foot, of Leith Wynd for a voyage to ..Xtely,7andfromthenoe to divers ports on the iHooriih tide of ■ the Mediterranean sea. Now /-italy'-wM^a land whiok I: had long wished onco the seat of that great >^^gte' Bbhianig, som^; knowledge of the " JDte^^'fi^lbwr n«£4 not' failed to instil ', me, bat which. I ofttimes, felt with pain "V- - .. -"

to be fast fading from; my mind. *ln<leed|Tl must tell you that it is to the exertions of that learned man that this narrative is alto- . gether owing, for he, seeing, as he was. . .pleased to say, a more oongenial soil in my '. mind for the seeds of his instructions than Was presented by the other fisher-boys, . took- great pains to imbue me with* a lore for the humanities, which has not deserted me entirely nntil this day. After muoh pondori4g upon my prospects, I therefore finally made np mv- mind to offer myself on board of the Golden Grove, which I did, and waa accepted Without more ado. My friends would have me pause and think of the dangera of unknown coasts,' and pirates and robbers oi -the bea ; but I know Captain John Coxon, of the Golden Grove, to be a stout and experienced seaman,: and one who was readily trusted with rich freights— -while as to freebooters, when I looked upon the away of oulverins, demi-cul verbs, and falconets ranged upon the decks, and also the show of oarabines and patterreroes placed about the ! masts; *with many stout fellows to man and Wield them, I felt we could bid defiance to any rove* who ever sailed out of Bailee. Therefore, to make a long story short, we Completed our cargo, took in provisions ahd Water, and, as has been said, on a fine May , morning,' I do hot remember tho "exact ; day, •sailed. The wind was so fair that by evenfall we saw St. Abb's Head. And'here at the outset of what was tome so advehturods a voyage, I would dCs- ; scribe my oaptoin and my shipmates, as well as 'the stoat vessel herself, the- latter being indeed a brave Craft, with •top-gallant forepasfle atfd high poop; surmounted by tbtee great lahterns ; but, as the reader will shortly perceive, the Golden Grove f and I soon parted o6mpa'ny/ahd Tnever saw either her of wrorew again. ' .We ,»»fried toe fair' Iwrtowmd *WitH tis all along the English coast, until passing throi^h the Straits of Dover, we bade faTe!weU to the white oliffs. Then in two days' time we saw upon the lartoard bow great rbo^ which form the cape called LaHogne, in France, and passing to the westward of tbe'island of Guernsey, sighted the little isle of X^hant lying off tbe port of Brest, where the French maintain fleets and great naval stores. Hereabouts the wind changed, veering round te the westward, and speeStty Tbning in upon us billows so vast that we cbttld well discern that we were no longer in the seas, hut vexpoaed to the great strength and. fierceness of the Atlantic or WestejA Cfoean. Notwithstanding, however, n^ade good progress. The breeze was ■not," sjfeadfy bint Mew in squalls,, making it "oft^ n^ce^ary to hand topsails, and raising r^reat toettung seas around .us, over which < tiie Gblden Gfroye rode very gallantly. At inight&U en the e^lth day of our voyage, I^o k»st rfght of Usbant and entered into jth^grfea'tjßay of Biscay. The sea here runs ebweedhjgly hioh, tumbling into the shore in gpreat ridges -of mue water; but with a stout ship, nD manned, tho n&tare of tjie waves 'iii|j| dan^«ottß aa that'of the short, Iw^O^te^ in th«i North Sea. And now I <tomc';<o whi^sh so sadly deter* "mm^;^y lot tor many a'day. un't.he m^Hiiiig ©f either the 13th or the 14tji May the' Weather was srfuailyand unsettled, and tbe sea irregular and high. About 8 q'ploek, looking forth to windward, I saw a great blackness in the sky, which I took to be the prelude of a gust of np ooimnon strength. 'At the same moment the mate ef the watch ordered the topmeu aloft to hand " the topsails, we oarirying at the moment no hijgher canvas. My station was upon the feeward fore-topsail yardarm, and as I olung t>y the manropeß to tiie great creaking pieces Of amber, grasping the, fluttering canvas of the sail, I thought. l had never e^en a finer sight than the great rolling ship below, wallowing and labouring m the white foaming seas, which would sometimes strike her and pour heavy masses of dear green water in a flood over the decks. When we wero securing tho sail, the motion aloft was very great, we being violently swung from side to side in suoh wise as might well make giddy even the grizzled head of an old mariner. Meantime, the gust to windward was coming Cast'; the blackness increased, and a rushing sound, as ctf tW chariot wheels of a host, rose above the rudo clamour of tho 8&u Then, amid great showers' of flying brine, . which it drove before it, the fierce wind struck the Golden Grove bodily over upon her side. . At the same instant I heard a hoarse voioe below summoning the men from the yards down, upon deck ; but as I was about to obey, the tempest grew te'rible. Thero wece great clouds of mist above me, through which I could see nought below but the white patches of waves breaking over the strong.' bulwarks of the ship. Suddenly tbo canvas, which haS. not been quite seewed, was torn oj»n, as it were, with a load screech by tho wind, and flapped and bsnged so that I felt the yery mast shake qnd quiver violently, while I received rude blows -from the loose and flying ropes, insomuch ss, being half blined by that and the pelting of the brine, I shnt my eyes, and bending down my bead grasped the yard firmily in my arms. L might have remained thus throe or four seconds, when I heard the loud howl of the wind suddenly increase toasortof eldritch scream. In a moment, the mast gave two violent jerks, and with the third I heard five or six sounding twangs like the breaking of harp-strings, and immediately a crashing of wood. Uien, still dinging to the yard, I was hurried with a mighty rush through the air, and suddenly plunged down into tiie choking brine, which rose all gargling over my head, and I knew at the same time that the Golden Grove had oarried away hor fore-topmast, and I was overboard in the boiling sea. By instinct, I suppose, I straggled to olimb upon the floating wreck so as to get my head and shoulders above water. Then I saw that I was alono in my misery. I hpve said that my station was at' the outer end of the yard, and I conceive that my shipmates must have gained ihe top, and from thence, I hoped, the deck. But as . for me, I saw nought but spocdy drowning for my fate. The seas rose in great foaming peaks and pyramids around me, and tbe wind drove drenching showers from the crests of tbe waves down into the hoHows. All around gloomy olouds passed swiftly, torn by the squall ; but the pitchy darkness which showed where its strength, lay, was far down to leeward, and looking thereat as I rose upon a higher sea than common, I faintly descried the ship -in a crippled plight, but having managed to put heir helm up so as to scud before the storm. She was already near a league away, and leaving me fast, so that the bitterness of death -rose np in my very heart. •. For a moment I thought I might as well die at once, and letting go my hold of the spars, I allowed myself to sink backward into the aea. But God has wisely made man to love life with with a clinging love, and to grapple with death as with a grim enemy. Therefore, as the water closed above me, and I felt suffocating, I could not help making a struggle^, which soon replaced me on my desolate seat on tbe floating wreck. I looked at the spars, and saw that the topmast had broken only about a foot beneath the place to which the yard had been lowered. Nearly the whole of tbe forotcp and the top-gallant masts of the Goldeti' Grove, with tho fragments of the foretopteail, which had been rent almost into ribbon, and the yard to whicb they were fastened lay therefore in the Bea. I dambered in from,the end of the yard, and took np my position where the mast and it. crossed each other; making mysdf fast thereto wiih one. of the numerous ends of broken rope which abounded, and for near an hour sat dismal and almostbroken-hearted, unheedful of how the waves tossed me to and fro, or how they sometimes burst over and almost stifled me. I was somewhat rousod by a feeling of Warmth, and looking abroad saw that the clouds had broken, and that the sun was shining brightly on the sea. The wind was also abated, and the waves not combing so violently, I was more at ease? Then I " hbard , that terrible sound — the sound of the sea alone — whioh no one -has listened to save he who has swam far ' from any vessel, or who, like myself, has dnng.toadrivingfcspar. On the beaoh you hear the surf, whero the waves burst upon rook or sand; on shipboard you hear the dashing of the billows on counter and prow ; aufl, above • them all, the sigh of the wind % and the' groaning of the timbers aud masts. -"But to hear the sea clone, you must ta alone upon the sea. I

will tell you of tho noiso: it is as of a great multitudinous hiss, rising universally about you — the buzz of the fermenting and yeasty . : waves. There are no deep, hollow rumblings. Except for that hissing, seething sound, the great billows rise and sink in silence ; and you look over a tumbling waste of blue or green water, all laced and dashed, and variegated with a thousand stripes, and streaks, and veins of white glancing froth, whioh embroider as it were with lace, the dark masses of heaving and falling ocean. Hearing this sound, and seeing this sight, I toßsed until thb sun got high and warm. I felt no very poignant anguish, for my soul was clothed, a 8 it were, in a species of lethargy — the livery of despair. Sometimes only I tried to j pray, but thoughts and tongue would grow benumbed together. .Once;' ihdeed, I was for a time aroused. 1 heard a shatep little dash in the water, and a soft quackle, as of a sea-fowl. Looking up, . I descried beside me two ducks of tbat species which we, in the Scottish seas, called "marrota; they are white on the breast and neck, ahd brown above, and have very bright, glancing, yellow eyes. Moreover, they dive, and use their; short wings under water, as other fowls do theirs in flying. • By the appearance of theso oreatrtrea I knew that land was, at farthest, within two days* sail. There—tilting gayly over each sea— they swam for hours, Beeming to look at me ; sometimes thay would divo, but they never went far from the wreck, always coming up and riding head to wind, with their keen yellow oyos fixed, as I thought, upon the poor drowning mariner. Thpy seemed tame and fearlesß— for, indeed, whit should they dread from mo ? Once, in a sort of melancholy mirth, T raised my arm threateningly, but they stirred neither wing I nor leg to flee, lifting over seas which would I make a great man-of-war work and groan to i her very keel, but which tbese feathered ships, built by God, could outride without a film of down being washed aside from their white breasts. The sun, having attained its zenith, began to descend the westerly skies, and the afternoon was fair and warm, the wind now blowing but a summer breeze. Sometimes when .on the crest of. a swell, I ldoked anxiously for a sail, but I saw nbught save the bright horizon, against which the Bharp outlines of the waves rose and fell in varying curves and ridges, so tbat now again I resigned myself to death, and, covering my face with "my hands, I, as it . were, moaned, rather than sung inwafdly to myself, many verses of psalms, which, when I was but a little child, I had repeated at my mother's knee. Meantime, I began to feel a stiffenin? and a heavy drowsiness over all my limbs and upon my soul. When I opened my eyes the heaving Waters turned into divers colours before my sight, so that I knew that my brain was wandering, and that my soul was departing. Howbeit, a holy tranquility oame down upon me. The blue sea appeared to melt away, and I saw-— but dimly— the green bottrock and the sweet, soft swarded links of the Balweirie burn, with the brown herring nets drying en the windy grass. The place seemed holy and Btill ; the sun was hot, and none were stirring- , aud presently I knew it a summer Sabbath aay, for trom out tbe open windows of tlid grey old kirk there | oame a low sound of psalmody, and I heard, as it wore, in my brain, the Voices of^the congregation, as they sang — \. y^^ '« "IVliy"' Jndah's land Go.i w well known, | TS^y^V His name in Israel's grreJifi, £$$Q9ln Saiem v his tubei-nacle, In Zkra is His seat. After this, there' came" on me silence aud darkness, I having gradually fallen into a fit or trance. I was roused by rude shocks and pulls, and a confused clamour of voices. Opening my eyes with effort, I saw surging upon the broken water, dose to the spars, a ship's boat with men, one of whom — he who rowed the boat oar — had grasped the collar of my sea doublet, and was hauling me into tho pinnace, in which effort he succeeded, ere I could well make out whereabouts I was. At the sametimeseverol voices asked, in two different . languages, what Was my noma and country f and how. I came there. Now, of both of tbese tongues I had some smattering, the one being French and the other Low Dutch, of which I had heard and picked up somewhat in my several voyages up the river Sohddt to Antwerp. I therefore; trying to master my senses, replied truthfully "that my name was Leonard Lindsay — that j. was a Scotsman, a mariner of tbo ship Golden Grove, of Leith, wherefrom I had fallen overboard, the spar to which I clung having been, as, Indeed, they might pcroeive, blown away in tempestuous weather. At this they consulted ia a low tone amongst themselves. They were all seafaring men, mostly Very swarthy, and tanned by the sun and the wind. They wore long blaok hair, and silver and gold earirnga, whioh glanced araid their greasy curls. Only two were fair and blue-eyed — namely, the men wbo first addressed me in flemish or Dutch. After remaining for a brief time heside the spars, and seeming to consult as to whether tbey wore worthy to be made a prize of, they decided in the negative, and dipping tbeir oars into the water, rowed away, the steersman narrowly watohing the run of the seas, so Qa to avoid being broached to and swamped. In the meantime, I had dambered from the bottom of the boat, and looking over the bows, saw, not more than a third of a mile fiom ns, a bark, whioh appeared to be both small and frail to contend with such a sea. Tho manner of her rig was new and strange to me, for she carried two masts, both very stout and short, and above them were two great supple yards, upon which was. spread a good show of canvas, each sail being of that trinagular form, called by the seamen who use them, lateen. In fine, the ship belonged to a port on tiie Mediterranean coast of France., and was of the class named feluccas. It was necessary to approach the vessel with great eaufcion, inasmuch as she rolled and surged excessively. We therefore camo slowly up, under her lee quarter, and a man, of very dark complexion, and the fieryest eyes I ever saw, jumped up upon the gunwale, and hailed the boat in French, but talking so rapidly, tbat I could make nothing of it. Then, a line having been thrown on board, it was made fast to me, and without more ado, I was soused into the sea, and dragged on board the felucca, where I lay panting on the deck, while tbe erew — very wild and fierce-looking sailors— amused themselves with my wretched appearance. Presently, however, tbe man who bad hailed the boat, and who seemed to have great authority on board, came up to me, and putting the rest aside, said more deliberately than before, but still in French, and with a peculiar accent — " You are not r then, a-Spaniard ?" I mustered ray few words of '-French, and answered, that — "I was not, but a Scotsman." Without more ado, be stooped over) rae, and searched my pockets. They contained some small English coins, being groats and silver pennies, and also a letter, which Captain Swanson, of the Jean Livingstone, had writtea to me to Leith. The sight of 1 these things appeared to satisfy his doubts, for he spoke a tew words in a kinder tone to tiiose about him, and presently leaving me, a man dressed in a tarnished livery, like a lackey, brought me a great cup of hot distilled waters, which I gjteedily.swallowed, and found myself comforted and refreshed. Being, however, muoh exhausted from the length of time which I had passed in tiie water, I laid me down upon a heap of sails in the forecastle, and being taken but little notice of, thanked God, inwardly, fwr my deliverance, and began to drop off to sleep. Only beforehand, like a sailor, I observed the course of tho ship. The wind being westerly, and she being dose-hauled, and labouring heavily to windward, I deemed, and With truth, that her destination must be across tho Atlantic. But whithersoever she went, with my then feelings, mattered little. I was Bayed from au early death, and grateful for my escape, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. When I wakened it was dark night, and the first watch was set. As the wind, however, was now very steady, and tiie sea not only lower but regular, tlie men werje mostly lying and dozing about the deck, except he that conned aud be that steered. Seeing me stirring, a sailor presently came to mo with a

lantern in his hand, and; to my', great joy, addressed* me in English, asking me from from whence I came, and the particulars of my disaster. Having shortly informed him, I requested that he would tell me what the ship was which had rescued me, and what manner of treatment I might expeot at the hands of the captain and crew. At fiist, he made as if he would put off talking of these matters, but as I was importunate, he asked me in turn, whether I had not heard of the great association of men of all nations, but principally Englishmen, Frenchmen, and Hollanders, who oarried on a constant warfare with the Spaniards among tho islands of- the West Indies, and, along the coast of JDarien, sometimes even- crossing .'that narrow nook of land, and descending "with fire and sword upon Panama and other j towns of the South Sea. To this I replied, j that certainly I had heard of these companies, but only very partially and nothing distinctly, that they were, I suppose, the adventurers called Hibustiers or Buccaneers, and more anoiently the " Brethren of the Coast." My new friend made answer moodily, that I should most probably have ample means of learning more of these Freebooters ere Iputmy foot on British ground again — "That is," [ says be, "after you have either escaped or ; served your time." " • Theso phrases naturally threw me into great trouble, and I earnestly asked what he signified by them. " Why," he replied, " that you will be sold as an apprentice, or jn other words, as a slave, to tho Frenoh West India Company, • in the Isle of Tortugas, on the northern coast of Hiipaniola, whither we are bound." At these words I grew sick at heart. " Better," Isaid, ". to have allowed me drown in that sea than to have rescued me only to sell me into slavery." H Not so.'* answered my companion, something sternly. M You are young, and have a thousand hopes before you. Tlie hand that miraculously preserved you this day ia ever stretched out in wisdom and mercy, readier to help than to chastise." ITO BE COXTINCF.n.J'