Lady Oswald had been long wishing to visit Scotland for the purpose of making enquiries respecting the property which she thought ought to be her son’s. Dread of the expenses of the journey, and the want of any friend to assist her in an undertaking almost hopeless, had hitherto delayed her project. This was, therefore, just the thing for her; she could now go to Edinburgh free of expense, and in the society of her best friend; that nephew, whose liberality was the sole support both of herself and her son. Her son too would thus be with her. Such an opportunity was not to be lost! Her wishes were of course acceded to by Fitz-Ullin, and a ship’s boat sent ashore for her maid, and such apparel as might be necessary for the voyage. In a few hours the Euphrasia sailed. That night, a little before twelve, she fell in with a kind of armed smuggler, evidently bound for the coast of France. The smuggler refused to come to, or answer signals, and even attempted to make sail; a temerity which obliged the frigate to fire on a little vessel, that should have suffered herself to have been captured without making any resistance. A few carronades, of course, overwhelmed the smuggler. Her crew immediately took to their boats, which they had lowered down on the first alarm. As the thunder of the frigate’s guns had subsided, all sound concluded in the last faint reverberation of a cry of distress, from apparently a single female voice, on board the else forsaken vessel. The smuggler was already, to all appearance, on fire at one end. Fitz-Ullin perceiving this, and hearing or fancying the cry, obeyed an involuntary impulse, and leaped into one of the boats manning to pursue the fugitives, and ordered it alongside the burning vessel. “They have not boats enough for all,” he said, “and have left some wretches behind to perish.” The next moment he was on board, followed but by a couple of sailors, who were bold enough not to be deterred by the volumes of portentous smoke. Assisted by these two men, he searched the upper deck, calling out frequently that there was a boat alongside. No one answered, the smuggler seemed wholly deserted, and the sailors urged the necessity of returning to the boat. Fitz-Ullin bid them do so, but not feeling quite satisfied while they were getting over the side he ran below. To his infinite surprise the door of the cabin was fast. He forced it. All was darkness, though the fire was increasing rapidly at the other end of the ship.