a certain melancholy satisfaction to think that,
save in the name of parentage, I was not worse off than others.

The hours glided on unnoticed as I lay thus dreaming, and night at last
fell, dark and starless. I had almost attained to a kind of careless
indifference as to my future, when the mate, coming up to me, said,--

"Wake up, master; we 're going to put you ashore here."

I made no answer: half in recklessness, half in pride, I was silent.

"You 'd better throw my boat-cloak over you. It's blowing fresh, and a
heavy sea running," said he, in a kindly voice.

"Thanks," said I, declining; "but I 'm little used to care for my
comforts. Can I see the skipper?"

"He told me that he preferred not to see you," said the mate,
hesitatingly, "and bade me arrange for putting you ashore myself."

"It is a question of money--not of politeness--with me," said I,
producing my purse. "Tell me what I owe him."

"Not a farthing, sir. He 'd not touch a piece of money that belonged to
you. He only wants you to go your way, and part company with him."

"Why--what does he take me for? What means this dread of me?"

The man looked confusedly up and down, to either hand, and was silent.
At last he said,--

"Come; all this is lost time. We 're close in now. Are you ready, sir?"

"Quite ready," said I, rising, and following him.

The boat's crew was already mustered, and, springing into the boat,
she was lowered at once; and before I well knew of it, we were plunging
through a heavy sea, by the force of four strong oars.

Through the darkness and the showering spray we went,--now rising on
the crest of some swelling wave, now diving down between the foaming
cataracts. I never asked whither we were bound. I scarcely wished for
land. There was something so exciting in the sense of peril about, that
I only desired it might continue. Such a relief is physical danger to
the slow and cankering disease of a despairing heart!

CHAPTER XLI. LYS

A long, low line of coast loomed through the darkness, and towards this
we now rowed through a heavy, breaking surf. More than once did they lie
on their oars to consult as to the best landing-place, and again resume
their labor as before. At last, seeing that neither creek nor inlet
presented itself, they made straight for the shore, and when within
about thirty paces of the strand, they dropped anchor and suffered the
boat to drift into shallow water.

"There now, master," said