h floated at the bottom of a stern-ladder, and
continued--"One who so often pays secret visits to the land, can never be
in want of the means. This nut-shell was easily transported across the
narrow slip of land that separates the bay from the ocean, and though the
surf moans so hoarsely, it is easily passed by a steady and dexterous
oarsman. I have been under the martingale of the Frenchman, and you see
that I am here. If your look-outs are less alert than usual, you will
remember that a low gunwale, a dusky side, and a muffled oar, are not
readily detected, when the eye is heavy and the body wearied. I must now
quit you--unless you think it more prudent to send those who can be of no
service, out of the ship, before the trial shall come?"

Ludlow hesitated. A strong desire to put Alida in a place of safety, was
met by his distrust of the smuggler's faith. He reflected a moment, ere he
answered.

"Your cockle-shell is not sufficiently secure for more than its
owner.--Go, and as you prove loyal, may you prosper!"

"Abide the blow!" said the Skimmer, grasping his hand. He then stepped
carelessly on the dangling ropes, and descended into the boat beneath.
Ludlow watched his movements, with an intense and possibly with a
distrustful curiosity. When seated at the sculls, the person of the
free-trader was nearly indistinct; and as the boat glided noiselessly
away, the young commander no longer felt disposed to censure those who had
permitted its approach without a warning. In less than a minute, the dusky
object was confounded with the surface of the sea.

Left to himself, the young commander of the Coquette seriously reflected
on what had passed. The manner of the Skimmer, the voluntary character of
his communication, its probability, and the means by which his knowledge
had been obtained, united to confirm his truth. Instances of similar
attachment to their flag, in seamen whose ordinary pursuits were opposed
to its interests, were not uncommon. Their misdeeds resemble the errors of
passion, and temptation, while the momentary return to better things is
like the inextinguishable impulses of nature.

The admonition of the free-trader, who had enjoined the captain to allow
his people to sleep, was remembered. Twenty times, within as many minutes,
did our young sailor examine his watch, to note the tardy passage of the
time; and as often did he return it to his pocket, with a determination to
forbear. At length he descend