the captain, who came quickly up, and said in a
voice that shook with suppressed anger:

"There's treachery afoot, gentlemen. The
plugs have been removed from the bottom of
every boat, and not an oar but has been sawn
through just above the blade. Some rascally
traitor must——"

"Sail, ho!" sung out a sailor from the
masthead. "A large ship on the weather bow."

"Sail, ho! a steamer to leeward!" called out
the look-out man in the bows.

The captain started, sprang into the rigging,
and took a hasty survey of the probable enemy.
As he did so, the red flash of a cannon-shot lit
the darkness of the night, and the bellowing
report followed sullenly over the waters.

"Down helm, you! put her about! smartly,
now, my lads!" shouted the captain; but another
flash succeeded, and down came the schooner's
mainboom, mainsail and all, thundering upon
the deck, knocking down and bruising several
of the crew, while a third shot crashed into the
deck, and made the white splinters fly. Escape
was impossible in our crippled condition. We
backed the topsails, and in ten minutes more a
large dark steamer had ranged alongside. We
were immediately boarded by a powerful force
of armed seamen and marines, and declared
a lawful prize to the U.S. steam-sloop Susquehannah.

By the light of the battle lanterns we were
all paraded on deck as prisoners, when what
was our amazement at recognising in the
lieutenant who commanded the boarders no less a
personage than the curé of St. Gaspard, the
Rev. M. Duchochois. Yes, there could be no
mistake about it. The shovel-hat and shabby
soutane and horn spectacles had been replaced
by navy blue cloth, a gold-laced cap, and a belt,
in which a revolver balanced the cutlass that
hung on the left side, but the crafty black eyes
were those of our late protégé, though the
expression was wholly changed.

"Yes, gentlemen; ladies, your humble servant,"
said the spy, with a sneer of triumphant
malice; "old Papa Duchochois, very much
at your service in his new capacity of
lieutenant in Uncle Sam's navy, you rebel
greenhorns."

And, indeed, the villain, for the part he had
played in practising on our compassion was to
enable him the better to betray us, was
Lieutenant Aminadab Hitch, of the Susquehanna,
while grinning at his principal's side, with the
copper-coloured pigment but half washed from
his cunning face, was the ci-devant Indian boy,
Blaise, alias Japhet Bunch, a Yankee corporal
of marines. We heard afterwards that the
lieutenant, who was famous for his power of
personating an assumed character, had visited
Nassau for the express purpose of securing the
prize money of so valuable a capture, as the
Saucy Jane to his own war vessel. It was his
accomplice, the pretended Indian lad, who had
stealthily ascended the rigging and loosened the
sail to give notice to the look-out men of the
sloop of the whereabouts of the blockade runner.
After this, the two worthies had stolen the
dingey, first disabling the other boats from
pursuit, and had pulled out to sea, where, as they
had expected, they had seen a preconcerted
signal from their own ship, and had been picked
up by her before we approached the channel
through which the false curé was aware of the
skipper's intention to pass. Had we even eluded
the Susquehanna, we must have been infallibly
sunk or taken by the Portland, which was awaiting
us on the other tack.

I do not wish to dwell on the scenes of
misery that ensued on board the schooner when
husbands were torn from their wives, and
fathers separated from their children, to be
consigned to the dreary captivity of Forts Warren
and Lafayette. Nor was it pleasant to see the
despair of my charge, poor Mrs. Bolton, whose
hopes of seeing her husband again in life were,
to all appearance, dashed to the ground when
on the eve of being realised; while, to poor
Captain Harrison, the affair was simply ruin. The
sight of his pale angry face haunts me still, as
he was led away to be placed in irons, like the
rest of the crew and officers. However, the
caprice or mercy of the Federal authorities
procured the release of Mrs. Bolton, as well as of
several of the other ladies, after a short detention;
and, though I was not myself permitted to
accompany my charge within the Confederate
lines, I was glad to hear that she and her
children had arrived safely at Charleston, and still
more glad to hear that Captain Bolton's
recovery was considered probable. And thus
ended what was my first, and will most
assuredly be my last, experience of blockade
running.

          NEW WORK BY MR. DICKENS,
In Monthly Parts, uniform with the Original Editions of
             "Pickwick," " Copperfleld," &c.
        Now publishing, PART III., price 1s., of
                  OUR MUTUAL FRIEND
                  BY CHARLES DICKENS
             IN TWENTY MONTHLY PARTS
        With Illustrations by MARCUS STONE.
  London: CHAPMAN and HALL, 183, Piccadilly.