ed to the quarter-deck, and drew near the
only form that was erect. The watch was commanded by a youth of sixteen,
whose regular period of probationary service had not passed, but who, in
the absence of his superiors, was intrusted with this delicate and
important duty. He stood leaning against the capstan, one hand supporting
his cheek, while the elbow rested against the drum, and the body was
without motion. Ludlow regarded him a moment, and then lifting a lighted
battle-lantern to his face, he saw that he slept. Without disturbing the
delinquent, the captain replaced the lantern and passed forward. In the
gangway there stood a marine, with his musket shouldered, in an attitude
of attention. As Ludlow brushed within a few inches of his eyes, it was
easy to be seen that they opened and shut involuntarily, and without
consciousness of what lay before them. On the top-gallant-forecastle was a
short, square, and well-balanced figure, that stood without support of any
kind, with both arms thrust into the bosom of a jacket, and a head that
turned slowly to the west and south, as if it were examining the ocean in
those directions.

Stepping lightly up the ladder, Ludlow saw that it was the veteran seaman
who was rated as the captain of the forecastle.

"I am glad, at last, to find one pair of eyes open, in my ship," said the
captain. "Of the whole watch, you alone are alert."

"I have doubled cape fifty, your Honor, and the seaman who has made that
voyage, rarely wants the second call of the boatswain. Young heads have
young eyes, and sleep is next to food, after a heavy drag at gun-tackles
and lanyards."

"And what draws your attention so steadily in that quarter? There is
nothing visible but the haze of the sea."

"'Tis the direction of the Frenchmen, Sir--does your Honor hear nothing?"

"Nothing;" said Ludlow, after intently listening for half a minute.
"Nothing, unless it be the wash of the surf on the beach."

"It may be only fancy, but there came a sound like the fall of an
oar-blade on a thwart, and 'tis but natural, your Honor, to expect the
mounsheer will be out, in this smooth water, to see what has become of
us.--There went the flash of a light, or my name is not Bob Cleet!"

Ludlow was silent. A light was certainly visible in the quarter where the
enemy was known to be anchored, and it came and disappeared like a moving
lantern. At length it was seen to descend slowly, and vanish as if it were
extinguishe