than a living creature. The padre, on the other
hand, was full of simple elation and spirits.
He chuckled and talked in his queer jargon,
making every one smile, and was evidently
overjoyed at his good fortune. Mrs. Bolton—poor
little woman—was in a more cheerful frame of
mind than I had yet seen her in. Hitherto we
had been met by baffling delays on all hands,
but now we were fairly off—really "going to
Henry at last," as she said; and I heard her
murmuring to her little ones that they should
"soon see papa, now."

The instant we were all aboard, and had
answered to our names as the steward read them
off from his list by the shaded light of a ship
lantern, anchor was weighed, quickly but
cautiously. There was no shrilly piercing fife to
encourage the men—no hearty chant of Yo,
heave, yo! as the crew went stamping round
after the spinning capstan bars. But if the
work was done silently, it was expeditiously
performed, and as if by magic the broad sails
dropped from their festoons, and the gallant
schooner, spreading her white wings like an
albatross, glided off to seaward. A sigh of
satisfaction burst from many hearts as the vessel
began to move from her anchorage. Mr. Trent's
niece was not the only one on board whose
hopes and affections centred in the land towards
which our prow now pointed. The breeze was
steady, and the Saucy Jane, slightly heeling
over in response to its welcome breath, flew
through the water at a rate that proved how
well she deserved her reputation as a fast sailing
craft. Still the utmost caution was preserved.
No lights were shown. Captain Harrison
conned the schooner himself, nor did his
vigilance appear to relax, until, more than an hour
after we had left our moorings, he laid his hand
familiarly on my shoulder, saying, "All right,
now, Mr. Phillips. Do you see that faint
blotch of crimson red and yellow, the smoky
light three miles off; no, more to leeward? That
is the San Jacinto. The Yankees won't make
much of us this time, or my name's not Jack
Harrison."

And, indeed, a more fortunate voyage, to all
appearance, no vessel had ever made. Day after
day the weather was beautiful, the sea smooth,
and the winds, though light, still favourable.
We saw no Federal cruisers. Twice, indeed,
we fell in with armed vessels, but these our
skipper's experienced eye recognised as British
ships of war, even before they drew near enough
for the red, white, and blue of the Union Jack
to be visible by means of our best glasses. And
on one sultry afternoon the cry of "Land, ho!"
was raised, and the Southern exiles on board set
up a cry of joy, and clapped their hands
exultingly, for they knew that the low blue line, like
a cloud bank, could be no other than the coast
of South Carolina.

Somewhat to the disappointment of his lady-
passengers, however, the captain declined to
sail into Charleston harbour, as he might easily
have done, before sunset on that evening. He
knew too well that to make such an attempt
would simply be to run into the lion's mouth.
We could see no Federal cruiser at that
moment, but there could be no doubt that many
war vessels of every calibre and class, from the
ferry-boat hastily armed with a brace of nine-
inch Parrott guns, to the swift steam frigate,
lay lurking among the numerous islands that
skirt the coast so thickly. It would have been
folly to have run the gauntlet through the
Yankee squadron in broad daylight, whereas by
night the chance of eluding hostile eyes was an
excellent one. Harrison knew the entrance to
the harbour well; his memory for shoals and
sand-banks, for channels and shallows, was
remarkable, and one of his crew was a Charleston
man born, and well qualified to act as a pilot in
his native waters.

The schooner was, therefore, moored, stem
and stern, close under the shelter of a
convenient islet, a long low strip of sand, crested by
palmettoes and overgrown with brushwood, and
which intervened between us and the blockading
squadron. The sails were furled, the colours
hauled down, and the Saucy Jane lay concealed,
only her bare masts rising gaunt and indistinct
over the tufted trees of the islet. It was
confidently believed that the best telescopes on
board the Federal men of war would fail to
distinguish any trace of our whereabouts, while,
towards midnight, we could resume our voyage
with a fair prospect of success. The vessel lay
in deep water, so close to the shore that a couple
of planks were thrust out as a bridge to connect
the gangway with the sand-bank, and most of us
gladly availed ourselves of the opportunity for a
ramble on dry land. Mrs. Bolton, whose spirits
had improved as we approached the country she
so longed to reach, was one of the group of
ladies who visited the islet, where the children
were delighted to run and play on the firm white
beach, covered with bright shells, and whence
terapins and other small turtles floundered
hastily at the approach of a human foot, and
splashed into the limpid blue water beneath.
With this party was the padre, M. Duchochois.
This worthy ecclesiastic had become a general
favourite on board, thanks to his quaint good
nature and amusing eccentricities. People
could not help laughing at him, but they liked
him, and the children, who teased him a good
deal at first, had ended by voting him grand
master of their revels.

A curious sight it was, that of a cluster of
little boys and girls, unconscious of the peril
that might accrue from the neighbourhood of
the Federal foes, gathered around the tall old
curé, and with eager gestures appealing to him
to devise some new game for them to play at.
And it was none the less curious to watch the
curé himself, as intent on the amusement of the
moment, apparently, as his little friends, taking
snuff noisily, and volubly chatting in his strange
dialect of three languages woven into one. The
ladies on board the Saucy Jane, who had at first
been somewhat shocked at the uncouthness of
this poor priest, now voted him a dear good
creature, and a subscription had been already