ome ship struggled with the raging sea; but to Mark all was mystery. He
knew not what it might portend, and hesitated between hope and despair,
whether these might prove the preparations for disembarking, or the last
signal before sailing.

In the low hut of a fisherman, not far from where he was, a light still
twinkled, and thither he hastened: it belonged to the man who had
rowed him on board of the frigate, and with whom Kate had spoken in the
kitchen. As Mark reached the door, he heard the sound of several voices
talking in a low, half-suppressed tone; pushing open the door, he
entered, and found about a dozen fishermen standing over the lifeless
body of a man in a French uniform.

"Who is this? What has happened?" said Mark, hurriedly. "It's one of
the French officers, sir," said Tom McCarthy; "he came ashore with us
this morning, and to-night, when it came on to blow, and he saw the
signals to sail, he insisted on going on board again, and we did our
best for him; we twice put out, and twice were sent back again; but the
last time we tried, the craft was upset, and the poor fellow could not
swim, and we never saw him more, till we found his body on the strand
about an hour ago."

Mark held the light beside the pale features, and saw that he was a
youth of not more than eighteen years; there was no distortion whatever,
and the features were calm and tranquil, as if in sleep.

"Let us lay him in the earth, boys," said Mark, as his voice trembled
with emotion; "it is the least we can do to let him sleep in the land he
came to save."

The men lifted the body without a word, and, preceded by Mark, who
carried a lantern, issued from the hut. A few paces brought them to
a little grassy mound, where the cliff, descending between the rocks,
preserved its rich verdure untrodden and untouched.

"Here, this will do, boys," said Mark; "this rock will mark the spot."

The work was soon over, and as the last turf was laid over him, a
deafening peal of artillery thundered over the sea, and suddenly, lights
shone here and there, through the dark atmosphere.

"He has had a soldier's burial," said Mark; "may his rest be tranquil.
And now"--and his voice assumed a firm and determined tone at the
moment--"and now, who will put me on board of any ship in that fleet?
I have neither gold to offer, nor silver to bribe you. I am poor and
powerless, but if the broad lands that were once our own, were mine now,
I'd give them all for