im by the thighs, and
cast him clean over the side of the boat into the sea. And that done I
sank down again in a bloody swoon, and perceived nothing more.

* * * * *

It was, as I learned, above a week afterwards when I fully came to
myself, and discovered that I was lying in my former garret at the
"Three-decker." There was an old woman coming into the room to wait
upon me, who told me that I had been brought ashore on the night of
the duel by men wearing masks; and one of them, whom she knew by his
voice and carriage to be the boatswain of the _Fair Maid_, had given
money out of his pocket for me to be taken care of till such time as I
should recover.

In the state of weakness to which I was reduced I shed tears at
hearing of this kindness on the part of that rough man, who was, I
sadly feared, a great scoundrel, of most villainous evil life. My next
business was to ask what had become of him and the rest of the _Fair
Maid's_ crew.

"The _Fair Maid_ sailed yesterday," the crone answered. "They warped
her out on the afternoon ebb. 'Tis said she sails under a privateer's
commission against the French."

I scarce knew whether to be glad of this news, or sorry. I told
myself that I could hardly have looked for a welcome among those men
after being the means of their lieutenant's death; and, moreover, I
had learnt enough of their character to feel strongly averse to a
cruise in such company. Yet they were the only friends I had, and I
was grown used to them; and the thought that I was left there, as it
were, alone, with nothing to turn to, made me very dismal after all.

It seemed somewhat strange to me, during the rest of that day, that
Marian had never once come to inquire for me; but I put off speaking
about it to the morrow. In the morning I awoke greatly refreshed, and
feeling well enough to leave my bed, which I did, and came down into
the bar of the house to look for her.

I found only her uncle, a weazened, peevish man, who had showed
himself very little while the privateersmen were about his house. I
bade him a courteous good morrow.

"Good morrow t'ye," he snapped out churlishly. "I'm glad to see you're
about again, as I daresay you know your reckoning has run out."

This I did not believe, but thought it beneath me to pick a quarrel
with such a man. Besides, he was Marian's uncle.

"Any charges you may have against me shall be fairly met," I answered
proudly. "But whe