The Buccaneer - A Tale

"There is a demon spirit within her," whispered Dalton to himself; "the

sight of her sends me wild again. Devil that she is! so beautiful! so

well proportioned! Talk of the beauty of woman!--But I'll look to her no

more--I'll think of her no more!"

He again applied himself to the oar, and was pulling steadily towards

the ship, when his eye rested upon something black and round in the

water. Again he paused in his exertions, and lay-to: the substance

floated towards him. He would have shouted, but--no sailor is ever free

from superstitious qualms of one sort or another--he remained silent,

fixing his eye steadily upon the object. At last it came close, quite

close to the boat; and in another instant, Springall was seated in the

prow.

"Good God! Spring, what's the matter? are you mad? Has anything occurred

yonder?" exclaimed Dalton, somewhat alarmed.

"Hush!" replied the panting youth; "I can hardly breathe yet." The

Skipper was going to pull towards the ship; but the youth laid his hand

on that of his master, and ejaculated, "Wait!"

Dalton complied, and when Springall could speak, he communicated what

astonished the Buccaneer in no small degree:--He said that, having

hunted about for the strange blade to no purpose, he tacked off towards

the ship, and told Jeromio his master had found that the boy was no boy,

but a girl in disguise; that he therefore desired Jeromio to tell him

who she really was, as he had secreted her on ship-board, knowing

perfectly well she was neither deaf nor dumb:--That Jeromio said, as the

master had fished it up, there was no use in making any bones about the

matter; for how it happened was, that when they were lying off St.

Vallery, this girl, whom he believed to be a Jewess, offered him a large

sum of money if he would secrete her on board, at all events until the

ship sailed, and if--after concealment was impossible--he would not

betray her. She stipulated to be landed upon the Kentish coast; and

Jeromio added, that he was sure she had a design upon the life of

somebody, and it might be easily guessed who, as she prevailed on him to

show her the use and management of fire-arms, and had, besides, a

dagger, which she usually carried in her bosom:--That, as she wrote

English very imperfectly, she had bribed him to write a letter to

Mistress Cecil, saying that, before God, she was the wife of Sir

Willmott Burrell, and that if she (Mistress Cecil) persisted in marrying

him, she would be revenged!--That he (Jeromio) kept back this letter,

because he feared his hand-writing might eventually lead to a discovery

that he had been the means of bringing her to England.--Springall

detailed this intelligence in much less time than it has occupied us to

repeat it; and then pausing, added,-"But the worst is yet to come. Jeromio--Master, I was right about that

fellow!--had hardly finished this account, when a boat hove out, and, at

first, we thought it was you, but presently who should come on board but

Sir Willmott Burrell, as large as life! Well, Jeromio was precious

frightened, as you may suppose, and said it was to inquire after the

Jewess; but he took the Italian into your cabin, and--I can't but own I

was vastly anxious to know what they were saying----"