Afloat and Ashore

brought from France, others purchased at Bourbon, the Isle of France, and the Philippines, and divers bales and boxes found in the holds of her prizes, in that quarter of the world, in ex­change for the precious metals. In effecting all this, Monsieur Le Compte, her commander, relied, firstly, on the uncommon sailing of his ship; secondly, on his own uncommon boldness and dexterity, and thirdly on the well-known disposition of the South Americans to smuggle. Doubloons and dollars tak­ing up but little room, he reserved most of the interior of his vessel, after his traffic on the “Main,” for such property as might be found in the six or eight prizes he calculated, with certainty, on making, after getting to the eastward of the Horn. All these well-grounded anticipations had been signally real­ized down to a period of just three months to a day, prior to our own arrival at this unhappy island.

On the night of the day just mentioned, la Pauline, without the smallest notice of the vicinity of any danger, running in an easy bowline, and without much sea, had brought up on another part of the very reef from which we had made so nar­row an escape. The rocks being coral, there was little hope for her; and, in fact, they appeared through her bottom within two hours after she struck. The sugars taken in at the Isle of France, as a ground tier of ballast, were soon rendered of doubtful val­ue, as a matter of course, but the weather remaining pleasant, Captain Le Compte succeeded, by means of his boats, in getting everything else of value on the island, and forthwith set about breaking up the wreck, in order to construct a craft that might carry himself and his people to some civilized land. Having plenty of tools, and something like sixty men, great progress

had been made in the work, a schooner of about ninety tons being then so far completed, as to be nearly ready to be put in the water. Such was the state of things, when, one fine night, we arrived in the manner already related. The French kept constant look-outs, and it seems we were seen, a distant speck on the ocean, just as the sun set, while the low trees of the island eluded our vigilance. By the aid of a good night-glass, our movements were watched, and a boat was about to be sent out to warn us of our danger, when we passed within the reef. Captain Le Compte knew the chances were twenty to one that we were an enemy, and he chose to lie concealed to watch the result. As soon as we had anchored within the basin, and si­lence prevailed in the ship, he manned his own gig, and pulled with muffled oars up under our bows, to reconnoitre. Finding everything quiet, he ventured into the fore-chains, and thence on deck, accompanied by three of his men. He found Harris, snoring with his back supported against a gun-carriage, and immediately secured him. Then, it only remained to close the forescuttle and the cabin-doors, and to fasten them, to have us all prisoners below. The boat was sent for more men, and hours before any of us in the berths were awake, the ship had effectually changed masters. Harris told our story, and the cap­tors knew our whole history, from the day of sailing down to the present time.

seemed to me by the aid of the moon, though its general char­acter was the same. The basin in which the ship lay might have covered a hundred and fifty acres in extent, the belt of land which encircled it, varying in breadth from a quarter of a mile to three miles. Most of the island was an open grove, lying at an elevation of from ten to thirty feet above the ocean; and we ascertained there were several springs of the sweetest water on it. Nature, by one of its secret processes, had covered the earth with a beautiful short grass; and the French, with their usual attention to the table, and their commendable activity, had already several materials for salads, &c., in full growth. String-beans might be had for asking, and petits pois were lit­erally a drug. I saw the tents of the French, extending in a line beneath the shades of the trees; and there was la Petite Pauline (the schooner) on her ways, actually undergoing the process of receiving her first coat of paint. As for la Pauline, herself, I could just discover her lower mast-heads, inclining at an angle of forty-five degrees from the perpendicular, through a vista in the trees.

“He’s d – – d generous, Miles,” growled Marble, in my ear. “He’ll leave us the island, and the reef, and the cocoa-nuts, when he has gone off with our ship, and her cargo. I’ll bet all I’m worth, he tows off his bloody schooner, in the bargain.”

their own tents to the immediate occupation of us prisoners. As Monsieur Le Compte’s plan was to proceed to the Span­ish Main, in order to complete his contemplated traffic in that quarter, no sooner were the tents prepared, than the French began also to ship such articles of their own, as it had origi­nally been proposed to exchange for Spanish dollars. In the mean time, we sat down to breakfast.

‘preference to remaining in the “blind Crisis,” as our men had got to call her, after her blundering through the Straits of Ma­gellan. “Allons!” exclaimed the French captain, suddenly. “We are near ze tent of Mademoiselle – we shall go and demand how she carry herself ce beau matin!” On looking up, I saw two small tents within fifty yards of us. They were beautifully placed, in the midst of a thicker portion of the grove than usu­al, and near a spring of the most exquisitely limpid water I ever beheld. These tents were made of new canvass, and had been fashioned with care and skill. I could see that the one we first approached was carpeted over, and that it had many of the ap­pliances of a comfortable abode. Mons. Le Compte, who was re­ally a good-looking fellow under forty, put on his most amiable appearance as he got near the canvass-door; and he hemmed once or twice, as respectfully as he could, by way of letting his presence be known. In an instant, a maid-servant came out to receive him. The moment I laid eyes on this woman, it struck me her face was familiar, though I could not recall the place, or time, where, or when, we had before met. The occurrence was so singular, that I was still ruminating on it, when I unexpect­edly found myself standing in the tent, face to face with Emily Merton and her father! We recognised each other at a glance, and, to Mons. Le Compte’s amazement, hearty greetings passed between us, as old acquaintances. Old acquaintances, however, we could scarce be called; but, on an uninhabited island in the South Seas, one is glad to meet any face that he has ever met before. Emily looked less blooming than when we had parted, near a twelvemonth before, in London; but she was still pret­ty and pleasing. Both she and her father were in mourning,