Chapter 33

"--Please you, read."

Cymbeline.

"It is past!" said the 'Skimmer of the Seas,' raising himself from the
attitude of great muscular exertion, which he had assumed in order to
support the mess-chest, and walking out along the single mast, towards the
spot whence the four seamen of Ludlow had just been swept. "It is past!
and those who are called to the last account, have met their fate in such
a scene as none but a seaman may witness; while those who are spared, have
need of all a seaman's skill and resolution for that which remains!
Captain Ludlow, I do not despair; for, see, the lady of the brigantine has
still a smile for her servitors!"

Ludlow, who had followed the steady and daring free-trader to the place
where the spar had fallen, turned and cast a look in the direction that
the other stretched his arm. Within a hundred feet of him, he saw the
image of the sea-green lady, rocking in the agitated water, and turned
towards the raft, with its usual expression of wild and malicious
intelligence. This emblem of their fancied mistress had been borne in
front of the smugglers, when they mounted the poop of the Coquette; and
the steeled staff on which the lantern was perched, had been struck into a
horse-bucket by the standard-bearer of the moment, ere he entered the
mélée of the combat. During the conflagration, this object had more than
once met the eye of Ludlow; and now it appeared floating quietly by him,
in a manner almost to shake even his contempt for the ordinary
superstitions of seamen. While he hesitated in what manner he should reply
to his companion's remark, the latter plunged into the sea, and swam
towards the light. He was soon by the side of the raft again bearing aloft
the symbol of his brigantine. There are none so firm in the dominion of
reason, as to be entirely superior to the secret impulses which teach us
all to believe in the hidden agency of a good or an evil fortune. The
voice of the free-trader was more cheerful, and his step more sure and
elastic, as he crossed the stage and struck the armed end of the staff
into that part of the top-rim of the Coquette, which floated uppermost.

"Courage!" he gaily cried. "While this light burns, my star is not set!
Courage, lady of the land; for here is one of the deep waters, who still
looks kindly on her followers! We are at sea, on a frail craft it is
certain, but a dull sailer may make a sure passage.--Speak, gallant Master
Seadrift: thy gaiety and spirit should revive under so goodly an omen!"

But the agent of so many pleasant masquerades, and the instrument of so
much of his artifice, had not a fortitude equal to the buoyant temper of
the smuggler. The