powerful sensation of
loneliness, and a peculiar disinclination, by word or act, to disturb
the prevailing quiescence of nature--such a night as suggests the idea
of a coming storm to those who are at sea, or of impending evil to those
on land.

"Is the mate aboard?" inquired Gascoyne.

"He is, sir."

"Are any of the hands on shore?"

"More than half of 'em, sir."

Nothing more was said; and in a few minutes Gascoyne was slowly pacing
the quarter-deck of his little vessel in earnest consultation with his
first mate. There seemed to be some difference of opinion between the
captain and his officer, for their words, which at first were low, at
length became audible.

"I tell you, Manton, it won't do," said Gascoyne, sternly.

"I can only suggest what I believe to be for the good of the ship,"
replied the other, coldly. "Even if you succeed in your attempt, you
will be certain to lose some of our hands; for although the best of them
are on shore, the commander of the _Talisman_ will think those that
remain too numerous for a sandal-wood trader, and you are aware that we
are sufficiently short-handed in such dangerous seas."

The latter part of this speech was uttered in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"What would you have me do, then?" demanded Gascoyne, whose usual
decision of character seemed to have deserted him under the influence of
conflicting feelings, which, the first mate could plainly perceive,
agitated the breast of his commander, but which he could by no means
account for. Certainly he had no sympathy with them, for Manton's was a
hard, stern nature--not given to the melting mood.

"Do?" exclaimed the mate vehemently, "I would mount the red, and get out
the sweeps. An hour's pull will place the schooner on the other side of
the reef. A shot from Long Tom will sink the best boat in the service
of his Britannic Majesty, and we could be off and away with the land
breeze before morning."

"What! sink a man-of-war's boat!" exclaimed Gascoyne; "why, that would
make them set us down as pirates at once, and we should have to run the
gauntlet of half the British navy before this time next year."

Manton received this remark with a loud laugh, which harshly disturbed
the silence of the night.

"That is true," said he, "yet I scarcely expected to see Captain
Gascoyne shew the white feather."

"Possibly not," retorted the other, grimly; "yet methinks that he who
counsels flight shews more of the white f