And with a touch of his hat, and a wave of his hand to the fair Julia, on whom his eye lingered as if she had reminded him of another as bright and fair as she, whom he had left behind him, the gallant boy sprung into the boat, and was soon upon his own deck, which he left only for the deep bosom of the ocean, when, not long afterward, the Hornet went down with all sail standing, and the stars and stripes at her mast-head, in the midst of a terrible storm, against which she could not stand. There were eyes that long looked anxiously for the return of the loved and lost--hearts that sighed, and spirits that sunk with the sickness of hope deferred; but there was no return for those who slept "Full many a fathom deep, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried!" CHAPTER VIII. FLORETTE. In consequence of the information obtained from the Hornet, the head of the Raker was turned more to windward, in order to intercept the convoy of merchantmen; but, owing to miscalculations of their bearings, she lost them entirely, and after keeping her course several days, hauled up again, and bore off on her former track. Florette had wasted away like a flower in midsummer. Each succeeding hour seemed to bear off upon its wings some portion of her beauty and bloom, as the winds steal away the fragrance from the rose, and leave it at length withered and dying. Her mind seemed also to waste with her body--her brain was fevered, and the form of the pirate seemed to be always before her gaze. The night had set in calm and beautiful, though the wind blew strong, and the waves were high, yet the heavens were cloudless, and the bright stars glided along the upper deep, like bubbles bathed in silver light. Julia sat by the side of Florette, in the cabin, gazing with anxious melancholy upon her wan yet beautiful countenance, and striving to direct her wandering thoughts by her own counsel. "Florette, you seem happier to-night?" "O, yes! I am happier--do you not see how he smiles upon me; his face is not dark to me. See! he beckons me to follow him!" And rising, she began to ascend the steps that led from the cabin. "Florette, where are you going?" "With William." Julia seized her hand and led her gently back to her seat. "Come, you are not well enough to go upon deck--let us talk of something else. Do you not long to see France again?" "France, la belle France?" murmured the poor girl. "Yes, your own France." "I see the home of my childhood; O, is it not beautiful! How full the vine-tree hangs with the clustering grape, and the village girls are dancing on the green. I see myself among them--and I look smiling and happy; but, O! there is William! how dark he looks as he gazes through the vines upon me; he beckons me away. I will come! I will come!" Julia wept as she looked sorrowfully upon this wreck of happiness and beauty. "My dear Florette, I hope you will yet again dance with your village girls beneath the bower of vines you seem to see."