At the end of the next hour they were out of
sight of land; wind and sea rising; and the
pirate only a quarter of a mile astern.

The schooner was now rising and falling on the
waves; the ship only nodding, and firm as a rock.

"Blow wind, rise sea!" faltered Dodd.

Another half-hour passed without perceptibly
altering the position of the vessels. Then,
suddenly, the wounded captain laid aside his glass,
after a long examination, and rose unaided to his
feet in great excitement, and found his manly
voice for a moment: he shook his fist at the now
pitching schooner, and roared, " Good-by! ye
Portugeese lubber; outfought—outmanoeuvred—
AND OUTSAIILED!"

It was a burst of exultation rare for him; he
paid for it by sinking faint and helpless into his
friend's arms: and the surgeon, returning soon
after, insisted on his being taken to his cabin,
and kept quite quiet.

As they were carrying him below, the Pirate
Captain made the same discovery; that the ship
was gaining on him: he bore up directly, and
abandoned the chase.

When the now receding pirate was nearly hull
down, the sun began to set; Mr. Tickell looked
at him, and said, "Hallo! old fellow, what are
you about? Why, it isn't two o'clock!"

The remark was quite honest: lie really feared,
for a moment, that orb was mistaken and would
get himself—and others—into trouble.
However, the middy proved to be wrong, and the sun
right to a minute; Time flies fast, fighting.

Mrs. Beresford came on deck with brat and
poodle: Fred, a destructive child, clapped his
hands with glee at the holes in the canvas: Snap
toddled about smelling the blood of the slain,
and wagging his tail by halves; perplexed.
"Well, gentlemen," said Mrs. Beresford, "I
hope you have made noise enough over one's
head: and what a time you did take to beat that
little bit of a thing: Freddy, be quiet; you
worry me; where is your bearer? will anybody
oblige me by finding Ramgolam?"

"I will," said Mr. Tickell, hastily, and ran off
for the purpose; but he returned after some
time with a long face. No Ramgolam to be
found.

Fullalove referred her—with humour-twinkling
eye—to Vespasian. "I have a friend here who
says, he can tell you something about him."

"Can you, my good man?" inquired the lady,
turning haughtily towards the negro.

"Iss, Missy," said Vespasian, showing his
white teeth in a broad grin, "dis child knows
where to find dat ar niggar, widout him been and
absquatulated since."

"Then go and fetch him directly."

Vespasian went off with an obedient start.

This annoyed Fullalove; interfered with his
system: "Madam," said he, gravely, "would
you oblige me by bestowing on my friend a
portion of that courtesy with which you favour
me, and which becomes you so gracefully:"

"Certainly not," replied Mrs. Beresford.
"Mr. Fullalove, I am out of patience with
you: the idea of a sensible intelligent gentleman,
like you, calling that creature your friend!
and you an American; where they do nothing
but whip them from morning till night. Who ever
heard of making friends with a black?—Now what
is the meaning of this? I detest practical
jokes." For the stalwart negro had returned,
bringing a tall bread bag in his arms: he now
set it up before her, remarking, "Dis yar bag
white outside, but him nation black inside." To
confirm his words, he drew off the bag, and
revealed Ramgolam, his black skin powdered
with meal. The good-natured negro then blew
the flour off his face, and dusted him a bit: the
spectators laughed heartily, but Ramgolam never
moved a muscle: not a morsel discomposed at
what would have made an European miserably
ashamed, even in a pantomime, the Caucasian
darkie retained all his dignity, while the African
one dusted him; but, being dusted, he put on
his obsequiousness, stepped forward, joined his
palms together to Mrs. Beresford—like mediæval
knights and modern children at their
devotions—and addressed her thus:

"Daughter of light, he who basks in your
beams, said to himself, 'The pirates are upon us,
those children of blood, whom Sheitan their
master, blast for ever! They will ravish the
Queen of Sunshine and the ayahs, and throw the
sahibs and sailors into the sea; but, bread being
the staff of existence, these foxes of the water
will not harm it, but keep it for their lawless
appetites; therefore Ramgolam, Son of Chittroo,
Son of Soonarayan, will put the finger of silence
on the lip of discretion, and be bread in the day
of adversity: the sons of Sheitan will peradventure
return to dry land, and close the eye of
watchfulness; then will I emerge like the sun
from a cloud; and depart in peace."

"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Beresford; "then
you are an abominable egotist, that is all: and a
coward: and thank Heaven Freddy and I were
defended by English: and Americans, and—
hem!—their friends; and not by Hindoos."
She added charmingly, "this shows me my first
words on coming here ought to have been to offer
my warmest thanks to the brave men who have
defended me and my child:" and swept them so
queenly a courtesy, that the men's hats and caps
flew off in an instant. "Mr. Black," said she,
turning with a voice of honey to Vespasian, but
aiming obliquely at Fullalove's heart, "would you
oblige me by kicking that dog a little; he is
always smelling what does not belong to him;
why it is blood; oh!" and she turned pale in a
moment.

Sharp thought some excuse necessary. "You
see, ma'am, we haven't had time to clean the
decks since."

"It is the blood of men; of the poor fellows
who have defended us so nobly!" faltered the
lady, trembling visibly.

"Well, ma'am," said Sharpe, still half apologetically,