"That's just the way I'm al'ays sarved," said Savage petulantly, and applying his rattan to the shoulders of a poor unfortunate lad who passed him without touching the locks that hung clustering on his forehead,--for hat or cap he had none. "Here's a pretty know-nothing! Do you forget, sir, that an officer's an officer, sir? and it's customary, sir, to pay proper respect, sir, to your superiors, sir, your betters, sir, you scape-grace, lubberly blackguard, sir;" and down came the stick at every "sir." The boy made the best of his way across the forecastle; but was again stopped by the boatswain. "Come back here, you wagabone. Don't you know, sir, that it's a great mark of disrespect, sir, to run away when an officer's starting you, sir? There, go along, you useless lumber! pretty regylations we shall have by and by, when such hard bargains as you fall aboard the King's biscuit! We're all going to the devil together, Jack!" and he turned to look over the bows. "If we are going to the devil," muttered Jack to the captain of the forecastle, "I hopes he'll sarve out his infarnal favours as the Lords of the Admiralty shares the prize-money,--three parts among the officers." Lovely is a Mediterranean twilight in those balmy months that breathe the odorous incense of exulting Nature in all its richest perfumes! then is the hour for contemplation! it is then the mind ranges over its best affections; and hearts, though oceans divide them, hold a mysterious communing with each other. "Deeper, oh twilight, let thy shades increase Till every feeling, every pulse, is peace." It is the poet alone that can describe its influences, for the art of the painter is baffled; he cannot produce the deepening tints as the web of darkness appears to be progressively weaving over the face of the heavens. "I love this season," said Lord Eustace to his captive, as they still stood side by side abaft; "there is a holy tranquillity about it that calms every turbulent passion, and soothes the heart in its sorrow." "_C'est vrai, milord_," returned the Frenchman, mournfully enough for one of his country; "and yon star there," pointing to Algol in Medusa's head, "has ever been to me the star of my destiny. Three days since I quitted Toulon; that orb at night was dim, and a heavy foreboding rested on my spirit; on the following night its brightness, even its dimensions, had decreased, and then I knew the doom of my honour was at hand." "Whatever presentiment you might have had," said Lord Eustace, "rest satisfied your honour remains untarnished. You fought your ship well, and be assured my account of the action shall do you ample justice. But I should like to know why you consider that particular star as connected with your fortunes." "You shall be gratified then," responded the Frenchman, "if you have no objections to a tale of horror."