the one object--gain. For
this, there was nothing he wouldn't attempt, nothing he wouldn't
risk. Now, our present voyage was one in which he had embarked all his
capital; the outbreak of a war warned him that his trade must speedily
be abandoned--he could no longer hope to escape the cruisers of every
country, that already filled the channel. This one voyage, however,
if successful, would give him an ample competence for life, and he
determined to hazard everything upon it.

"It was a dark and stormy night in November, when we made the first
light on the west coast of Ireland. Part of our cargo was destined for
Ballybunnion; the remainder, and most valuable portion, was to be
landed in the Bay of Galway. It blew a whole gale from the southward
and westward, and the sea ran mountains high, not the short jobble of a
land-locked channel, but the heavy roll of the great Atlantic,--dark
and frowning, swelling to an enormous height, and thundering away on the
iron-bound coast to leeward, with a crash, that made our hearts quiver.
The 'Dart' was a good sea-boat, but the waves swept her from stem to
stern, and though nothing but a close-reefed topsail was bent, we went,
spinning through the water, at twelve knots. The hatchways were battened
down, and every preparation made for a rough night, for as the darkness
increased, so did the gale.

"The smuggler's fate is a dark and gloomy one. Let the breeze fall,
let the blue sky and fleecy clouds lie mirrored on the glassy deep, and
straight a boat is seen, sweeping along with sixteen oars, springing
with every jerk of the strong arms, to his capture. And when the white
waves rise like mountains, and the lowering storm descends, sending
tons of water across his decks, and wetting his highest rigging with the
fleecy drift he dares not cry for help; the signal that would speak of
his distress, would be the knell, to toll his ruin. We knew this well.
We felt that come what would, from others, there was nothing to be
hoped. It was then, with agonizing suspense we watched the little craft,
as she worked in the stormy sea; we saw that with every tack, we were
losing. The strong land current that set in shore, told upon us, at
every reach; and when we went about, the dark and beetling cliffs seemed
actually toppling over us, and the wild cries of the sea-fowl, rang,
like a dirge in our ears. The small storm-jib we were obliged to
set, sunk us by the head, and at every pitch the little ve