At this time the first history, that is considered as really authentic, is commenced. A vessel, afterward known as the phantom ship, was seen in the waters off Nahant, at or near sunrise. It presented to the eye a strange optical delusion of a ship resting motionless upon the water, and another, the exact counterpart of the first, suspended keel upwards in the air; the masts and rigging of the two apparently touching each other. It was the pirate ship Arabel, that had come too far in at high tide, and was therefore obliged to wait until the water rose again in order to get out to sea. Don Jose returned to Spain, but his honor was gone, his queen dethroned, and he himself treated like a traitor on all sides. “I’ll not have the name without the game, I reckon,” he said, with true Spanish bitterness; and taking his only living relative, a boy about twelve years of age, left him by his sister, he joined the banditti as a wanderer, and not as a resident, determined to wreak his vengeance on the Spanish government. The next time the pirates came to America, Don Jose and the boy both accompanied them. They landed early in the morning, and the boy Carl took his place in the village as spy. All the long day he wandered up and down, his quick ear catching every suspicious word, and at night, while returning to the place fixed upon as the lookout, he arranged the whole matter in his mind, making an accurate calculation of how many reliable men the settlement numbered when they would make their exploration, etc. By the time he had settled it all in his own thoughts he arrived at “Lookout Hill,” or “High Rock,” as it is now called. With a light, eager step, he clambered up the rocks, and reached the firm platform upon the top. Soon he espied a moving speck far out upon the blue waves, and immediately hoisting the signal agreed upon, he raised a small glass to his eye, and commenced scanning the distant object. He was dressed in the Spanish costume of that day; but there was an oriental richness about it which is now lost to the world. It looked more like the Turkish apparel of the present time; the flowing trousers and tunic giving a graceful air to his slender form, and quick, agile motions; and the whole occurrence gave rise to the interesting novelette entitled, “The Child of the Sea.” “What success, Carl?” asked Don Jose, as he came up the long path from the boat-landing, and clasped the boy in his arms. “The best, father,” was the reply, “but they are to have a meeting tonight, which it will be best for some one of us to attend.” He then told what he had heard through the day, and with his help the father rehearsed it again to the band. “I must go,” said Harris, springing up and preparing to leave. “Why you, Sir Harris?” asked several voices.