Chapter 21

----"When these prodigies
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say.
These are their reasons,--They are natural,
For, I believe they are portentous things
Unto the climate that they point upon."
_Casca._

The reader will discover, by referring to the time consumed in the
foregoing events, that the Ariel, with her prize, did not anchor in the
bay already mentioned, until Griffith and his party had been for several
hours in the custody of their enemies. The supposed capture of the rebel
schooner was an incident that excited but little interest, and no
surprise, among a people who were accustomed to consider their seamen as
invincible; and Barnstable had not found it a difficult task to practise
his deception on the few rustics whom curiosity induced to venture
alongside the vessels during the short continuance of daylight. When,
however, the fogs of evening began to rise along the narrow basin, and
the curvatures of its margin were lost in the single outline of its dark
and gloomy border, the young seaman thought it time to apply himself in
earnest to his duty. The Alacrity, containing all his own crew, together
with the Ariel's wounded, was gotten silently under way; and driving
easily before the heavy air that swept from the land, she drifted from
the harbor, until the open sea lay before her, when her sails were
spread, and she continued to make the best of her way in quest of the
frigate. Barnstable had watched this movement with breathless anxiety;
for on an eminence that completely commanded the waters to some
distance, a small but rude battery had been erected for the purpose of
protecting the harbor against the depredations and insults of the
smaller vessels of the enemy; and a guard of sufficient force to manage
the two heavy guns it contained was maintained in the work at all times.
He was ignorant how far his stratagem had been successful, and it was
only when he heard the fluttering of the Alacrity's canvas, as she
opened it to the breeze, he felt that he was yet secure.

"'Twill reach the Englishmen's ears," said the boy Merry, who stood on
the forecastle of the schooner, by the side of his commander, listening
with breathless interest to the sounds; "they set a sentinel on the
point, as the sun went down, and if he is a trifle better than a dead
man, or a marine asleep, he will suspect something is wrong."

"Never!" returned Barnstable, with a long breath, that announced all his
apprehensions were removed; "he will be more likely to believe it a
mermaid fanning herself this cool evening, than to suspect the real
fact. What say you, Master Coffin? will the soldier smell the truth?"

"They're a dumb race," said the