such other punishment as by the general court-
martial shall be awarded." In light nonsense
of this kind the permitted five minutes—and
another five to boot—were consumed; but
when it began to draw near a quarter of an hour,
the impatient colonel would wait no longer.
"Play the Roast Beef again," he said; "if
he hears it, coming up the hill, he must run for
it. Now let us go in." He beckoned to me,
however, as he led the way, and observed:
"Your servant is a smart light-infantry man,
send him down to hurry up this laggard.''
John Hurley, the man the colonel spoke of, was
a quick, intelligent Irishman, and I despatched
him on his errand. "Never fear, sir," said he,
"but I'll bring him along before the drum has
done bating."

We accordingly took our places at table, and
began dinner, a seat being left, like Banquo's,
unfilled. It was my own simile, and little did I
imagine that its application would prove
literally true. But ten minutes had scarcely
elapsed, before John Hurley burst into the mess-
room, pale and breathless.

"Please your honour," he exclaimed, addressing
me, "Mr. F——has been kilt!"

Every one started to his feet at this abrupt
announcement; a hundred questions were asked
in a moment, all resolving themselves into the
inquiry from the colonel: "What on earth do
you mean? Are you drunk, man? Speak
out!"

"It's not drunk I am, colonel! Niver a drop
of liquor has passed my lips since I took my
mornin', and if I were to spake as loud as a
gun I could only say that Mr. F——had been
shot!"

"How? By whom?" asked a dozen voices.

"Some blaggard Moodian, bad luck to him!
I don't know his name," returned Hurley.

"Has the fellow been taken?" demanded the
colonel.

"Not he, sir," replied Hurley. " As soon as
he did it, he was off like the shot he'd just fired,
laving Mr. F——kilt upon the ground where
he fell."

"Mr. Adjutant," said the colonel, addressing
me no longer by name, but by the designation
of my position in the regiment, "get a
sergeant's party under arms, and send out patrols
to scour the island. No ammunition, mind!
The scoundrel must be taken alive!"

I quitted the mess-room hastily, leaving all
in confusion behind. Merely stopping at my
room for an instant to buckle on my sword,
I hurried to the orderly-room, summoned the
sergeant-major, and gave the colonel's order
briefly, stating for what purpose the men
were wanted. There was no need to claim
the first for duty; a dozen volunteered
at once. We took those that came, while a
score or two more, in their fatigue dresses,
set off like wildfire, eager for the chase. Heading
the armed party, I also followed rapidly
to the town. We learnt on the road that the
report of .Mr. F——being killed was not
absolutely true; he was, however, desperately
wounded, having been shot in the groin, and
had been carried to his own house. Thither we
proceeded, and found a large crowd gathered in
front of it—almost the entire population of the
place—restless and clamorous, as coloured
people under excitement always are. I then,
for the first time, heard the name of the
assassin, coupled with the confirmation of
Hurley's news that he had made his escape.
He proved to be one Joel Tucker, the master
of a small schooner, trading habitually
between St. George's and Norfolk, in Virginia.
What was his motive for the crime he had
committed nobody could tell, as nothing was
known of his having ever been on bad terms
with Mr. F——. On the contrary, he had often
been favoured by the latter with freights when
others were desirous of having them on equal
terms; and his last return voyage was a
consignment to Mr. F——, who had been heard to
express himself to Tucker as quite satisfied with
the result of the business transacted between
them. The man, however, did not stand well
in anybody's estimation. Acts of cruelty to his
"hands"—all coloured men and boys—were
related of him, and he was held to be of a surly,
revengeful disposition; but still the question
arose, What cause of quarrel had he with. Mr.
F——?

While this information—such as it was—was
being given, the victim of the assassination was
lying insensible, unable to give any account of
what had occurred. His brother-in-law, Dr.
H——, was by his bedside, where sat his poor
forlorn young wife, now just on the point of
being again a mother. She had scarcely spoken
beyond the first exclamation of horror and dismay;
but no persuasion could induce her to
leave the post she occupied, even while the
surgical examination was made to ascertain the
extent of the sufferer's injury. The wound,
which could not be probed, was evidently a very
dangerous one, and from its outward appearance,
and the state of Mr. F——'s clothes, which
were much burnt, it was plain that the pistol
had been fired close to his body. Internal
hemorrhage was feared, and this apprehension
was shared with Dr. H——by the rest of the
surgeons of the garrison, who all, as the news
of the event reached them, were in attendance.
It would have answered no purpose, under the
circumstances, for me to have intruded into the
sick-room; indeed, all but the medical men
were strictly excluded; having, therefore,
distributed my party with full instructions, I
returned to the barracks to report what I knew
to the colonel. Redgauntlet was a man of a
very impetuous character, and chafed exceedingly
at the imperfect information I was only
able to give. He was not only the commandant
of the garrison, but, in the absence of Sir H——
T——, the governor, not yet arrived from
England, the civil as well as the military authority
over the Bermudas was temporarily delegated to
him; and being his military secretary as well as
his regimental adjutant, I had plenty of work to
do, though much of it was superfluous. On