proposed for the purpose of sending him and his
Indian, servant-lad home to St. Gaspard. This
lad, Blaise, whom the children had dubbed Man
Friday, was a taciturn boy, like all his race, but
evidently attached to the priest with an almost
canine fidelity. He was seldom far from his
master, but on this occasion he was not, as
usual, ready to hold the large red-cotton
umbrella over the head of M. Duchochois, a
ceremony which he often gravely performed on
deck.

Meanwhile, several of the male passengers,
with Captain Harrison, sat smoking their cigars
in a shady nook of the islet, screened from the
sun's rays by the long drooping leaves of the
feathery palmettoes overhead, and almost walled
in by thickets of the oleander, the nopal, and
the prickly pear, gorgeous with large red
blossoms. Everybody seemed happy and hopeful.
Suddenly the captain sprang to his feet, with
a fierce oath that died away into a shout of
anger:

"Hilloa! on board there. Who did that?"

One of the mates, lounging half asleep over
the taffrail, looked up with surprise at the sound
of his commander's voice.

"Look alive, there! Who loosed that sail?"
cried the captain.

And, as we all glanced upwards, we saw, to
our astonishment, that the maintopsail of the
schooner was loose, and heavily flapping to and
fro in the freshening breeze, like the broad wing
of some wounded sea-bird. It needed but a
glimpse of Harrison's look of wrathful dismay,
as he sprang on board and gave his orders—
orders that instantly sent three or four seamen
scrambling hurriedly up the rigging to reduce
the sail—to assure us that mischief was afoot.
In a very short time the fluttering canvas was
close reefed, but to discover the offender who
had cast the sail loose was less easy. In vain
the captain sternly interrogated such of the
crew as had been on deck. All declared that
they knew nothing of the matter. One sailor,
who had been dozing under the bulwarks aft,
did, indeed, say that he had opened his eyes a
few minutes before, and had, while in a state
between sleeping and waking, seen some one
jump out of the standing rigging, and slip down
the fore-hatchway. And it was his belief that
this person was no other than the padre's boy,
Indian Blaise.

But Blaise was found fast asleep in his lair
below, and he did not seem even to understand
what was said to him when he was asked,
in French, whether he had been aloft lately.
He shook his head in dissent, however, and
indeed no one had ever seen the Indian ascend
the rigging, or believed him capable of getting
high enough to loosen the sail, even if there
had been any comprehensible reason for such
an act on his part. The most natural conjecture
was that the sail had been carelessly
secured, and the captain's only hope was that
the tell-tale canvas had not attracted the eyes
of any sharp-sighted look-out man on board
of a Federal ship. And as hour passed after
hour, and no column of smoke rose black
against the darkening violet sky, giving token
of the unwelcome approach of an enemy, we
breathed more freely again, and all looked
forward to breakfasting in Charleston itself. The
sun went down sinking into a bank of grey
clouds, and there were signs of a probable
change of weather, but still the sea was calm.
We were all aboard again, supper was over,
and the lights were extinguished, and the
passengers in their berths, somewhat earlier
than usual. The deck was left to the watch,
and as the schooner's bell told off the hours
we knew that the time for sailing would soon
arrive. I was lying, half dressed, on the tiny
bed in my little cabin, when I heard a voice
say, in a husky, smothered tone,—"Not
yet! Japh! I see one of the Britishers
leaning over the side, forward. Keep in the
shadow."

And then followed a gentle splashing sound,
and a faint tapping against the planking, as if
some boat or canoe were being guided along
the schooner's side by the joint force of a
paddling oar and a human hand that grasped
the woodwork of the vessel's side and drew the
boat forward. Of this I should have thought
little—nothing was more likely than that a boat
should have been lowered for some purpose
connected with our getting clear of the sand-banks
and sunken rocks that were numerous in our
immediate proximity—but the words were
suspicious, and the voice was wonderfully like that
of the good old priest, M. Duchochois. For a
moment I hesitated as to whether I should seek
the captain or one of the mates to communicate
what I had heard, but the more I thought of
the matter the less certain was I that I had
caught the exact meaning of the speaker. I had
been drowsy and only half awake, and the very
notion that the curé had been the owner of the
voice was a manifest absurdity that made me
consider the whole affair unworthy a second
thought. I listened, but could hear nothing,
and soon sank into a real slumber.

I was awakened by the quick tramp of feet
overhead, the word of command, the rattling
down of coils of rope upon the deck, the quick
wash of the surging water along the schooner's
sides. Evidently sail had been made on the
Saucy Jane, and we were heading for Charleston
harbour. I got up, threw on my upper garments,
and went on deck, where I found two or
three of the male passengers. They were talking
together near the stern with excited gestures,
but in cautious tones. As I drew near, I caught
the words "the boat," and at once asked if
anything had gone wrong.

"Yes, Mr. Phillips, the dingey's missing,"
said one of the Southerners, a tall Georgian,
who bore the title of major; "it was the only
boat towing astern, as you may have noticed,
all the others being on board. Just before sailing
it was found to have disappeared, though in
what manner——"

"Captain Harrison suspects,'' interrupted
another; but he was interrupted in his turn by