might, on any other occasion, shrink. Deliver the vessel, and I pledge you
the honor of an officer that the crew shall land without question.--Leave
her to us, with empty decks and a swept hold, if you will,--but, leave the
swift boat in our hands."

"The lady of the brigantine thinks otherwise. She wears her mantle of the
deep waters, and, trust me, spite of all your nets, she will lead her
followers beyond the offices of the lead, and far from soundings;--ay!
spite of all the navy of Queen Anne!"

"I hope that others may not repent this obstinacy! But this is no time to
bandy words; the duty of the ship requires my presence."

Seadrift took the hint, and reluctantly retired to the cabin. As he left
the poop, the moon rose above the line of water in the eastern board, and
shed its light along the whole horizon. The crew of the Coquette were now
enabled to see, with sufficient distinctness, from the sands of the Hook
to the distance of many leagues to seaward. There no longer remained a
doubt that the brigantine was still within the bay. Encouraged by this
certainty, Ludlow endeavored to forget all motives of personal feeling, in
the discharge of a duty that was getting to be more and more interesting,
as the prospect of its successful accomplishment grew brighter.

It was not long before the Coquette reached the channel which forms the
available mouth of the estuary. Here the ship was again brought to the
wind, and men were sent upon the yards and all her more lofty spars, in
order to overlook, by the dim and deceitful light, as much of the inner
water as the eye could reach; while Ludlow, assisted by the master, was
engaged in the same employment on the deck. Two or three midshipmen were
included, among the common herd, aloft.

"There is nothing visible within," said the captain after a long and
anxious search, with a glass. "The shadow of the Jersey mountains prevents
the sight in that direction, while the spars of a frigate might be
confounded with the trees of Staten Island, here, in the northern
board.--Cross-jack-yard, there!"

The shrill voice of a midshipman answered to the hail.

"What do you make within the Hook, Sir?"

"Nothing visible. Our barge is pulling along the land, and the launch
appears to be lying off the inlet; ay--here is the yawl, resting on its
oars without the Romar; but we can find nothing which looks like the
cutter, in the range of Coney."

"Take another sweep of the glass more we