unopposed the stirring sport
of hunting men like beasts, had the leaders not committed one
atrocious act of inhumanity that roused the long-suffering people to
resistance.

One breezy afternoon, a stanch brig, under full sail, came up the bay,
and entered the harbor of Newport. Her sides were weather-beaten, and
her dingy sails and patched cordage showed that she had just completed
her long voyage. Her crew, a fine set of bronzed and hardy sailors,
were gathered on her forecastle, eagerly regarding the cluster of
cottages that made up the little town of Newport. In those cottages
were many loved ones, wives, mothers, and sweethearts, whom the brave
fellows had not seen for long and weary months; for the brig was just
returning from a voyage to the western coast of Africa.

It is hard to describe the feelings aroused by the arrival of a ship
in port after a long voyage. From the outmost end of the longest
wharf the relatives and friends of the sailors eagerly watch the
approaching vessel, striving to find in her appearance some token of
the safety of the loved ones on board. If a flag hangs at half-mast in
the rigging, bitter is the suspense, and fearful the dread, of each
anxious waiter, lest her husband or lover or son be the unfortunate
one whose death is mourned. And on the deck of the ship the excitement
is no less great. Even the hardened breast of the sailor swells with
emotion when he first catches sight of his native town, after long
months of absence. With eyes sharpened by constant searching for
objects upon the broad bosom of the ocean, he scans the waiting crowd,
striving to distinguish in the distance some well-beloved face. His
spirits are light with the happy anticipation of a season in port with
his loved ones, and he discharges his last duties before leaving the
ship with a blithe heart.

So it was with the crew of the home-coming brig. Right merrily they
sung out their choruses as they pulled at the ropes, and brought the
vessel to anchor. The rumble of the hawser through the hawseholes was
sweet music to their ears; and so intent were they upon the crowd on
the dock, that they did not notice two long-boats which had put off
from the man-of-war, and were pulling for the brig. The captain of the
merchantman, however, noticed the approach of the boats, and wondered
what it meant. "Those fellows think I've smuggled goods aboard," said
he. "However, they can spend their time searching if they want. I'v