d in constant view of
God's majesty, and will not refuse to listen to this evidence of his
pleasure. Give me my child, and I yield all else. He is of a race long
honoured upon the seas, and no mariner will be deaf to his claims. The
widow of de Lacey, the daughter of ------ cries for mercy. Their united
blood is in his veins, and it will not be spilt by you! A mother bows
herself to the dust before you, to ask mercy for her offspring. Oh! give
me my child! my child!"

As the words of the petitioner died upon the ear a stillness settled on
the place, that might have been likened to the holy calm which the
entrance of better feelings leaves upon the soul of the sinner. The grim
freebooters regarded each other in doubt; the workings of nature
manifesting themselves in the gleamings of even their stern and hardened
visages. Still, the desire for vengeance had got too firm a hold of their
minds to be dispossessed at a word. The result would vet have been
doubtful, had not one suddenly re-appeared in their midst who never
ordered in vain; and who knew how to guide, to quell, or to mount and
trample on their humours, as his own pleasure dictated. For half a minute,
he looked around him, his eye still following the circle, which receded as
he gazed, until even those longest accustomed to yield to his will began
to wonder at the extraordinary aspect in which it was now exhibited. The
gaze was wild and bewildered; and the face pallid as that of the
petitioning mother. Three times did the lips sever, before sound issued
from the caverns of his chest; then arose, on the attentive ears of the
breathless and listening crowd, a voice that seemed equally charged with
inward emotion and high authority. With a haughty gesture of the hand, and
a manner that was too well understood to be mistaken, he said,--

"Disperse! Ye know my justice; but ye know I will be obeyed. My pleasure
shall be known tomorrow."

Chapter XXXII.

----"This is he;
Who hath upon him still that natural stamp:
It was wise Nature's end in the donation,
To be his evidence now."--_Shakespeare._

That morrow came; and, with it, an entire change, in the scene and
character of our tale. The "Dolphin" and the "Dart" were sailing in amity,
side by side; the latter again bearing the ensign of England, and the
former carrying a naked gaff. The injuries of the gust, and the combat,
had so far been repaired, that, to a common eye, each gallant vesse