The proposition for sleeping prevailed, and the groups on the forecastle began to disappear, when the voice of the second mate was heard: "For'ard there!" "Sir, sir," answered half a dozen eager voices at once. "Who has the anchor watch?" "Bill Thompson and Sam Hughes, sir." "Go in the boats alongside, and see that they have their full complement of oars; and see, too, that the masts and sails are on board all of them." "Ay, ay, sir." "Do you hear that, my sons of brass?" said old Jones, the boatswain, "that looks as if there was going to be wigs on the green before morning." We must now leave the marine department for awhile, in order to attend to exclusively terrene concerns. As night closed, Morton could not avoid feeling extreme anxiety; Isabella had not visited the prison since the day previous, nor had she sent any message. Doubts the most annoying possessed his mind--at one time he thought she had been detected in her schemes for his rescue; then that her courage had failed, and she had abandoned him to his fate; or that her affection for her relatives had overcome her love for him. He had partially made known to his four fellow-prisoners his hopes of relief, cautioning them against sleeping, but enjoining upon them to keep perfectly quiet. It was now past nine o'clock; and, with mingled feelings of disappointment, grief, and anger, he was just resigning all hopes, when the sentry at the door challenged. The next moment a person dressed in a long, loose cloak stood before him, whom he immediately recognized as his loved Isabella. "I have brought you some supper and some wine," said the young lady, addressing him, as usual upon similar occasions, in Spanish; "I ought to have come before, but it was impossible." So saying, she set her basket upon the stone bench, and, in so doing, whispered Morton: "Every thing is ready; be patient, and be guided by me." "But how are you about to manage these fellows? it will take all night to get them drunk, if that is your plan; for your soldiers, it cannot be denied, are extremely temperate, and will seldom do me the honor to empty more than a single bottle among the whole five." "Hush, hush; I have a surer way than mere wine." As she spoke she drew from her bosom a phial, containing a dark liquid. Morton started back in horror--(he thought he saw, in the composed and lovely countenance of the beautiful being before him, the cold-blooded, deliberate, practised assassin--) "Good God! Isabella, is it possible? never, never will I owe my life and liberty to such abominable, such cowardly means!"