“Thou art very, very young,” continued Hildebrand, as he observed his bosom swell with his emotion. “But fear not! The world is not so perilous as we are apt to suppose.” “No more,” returned Don Rafaele, in a firmer tone. “I doubt thee not, and have no fear. But I am sad--very sad.” “That gives me more grief that I must leave thee,” said Hildebrand. “We may have some fighting above, and I, of course, as captain, must brave it awhile. Do thou promise me thou wilt stay here.” “I will,” answered Don Rafaele. “Then, I will leave thee awhile,” rejoined Hildebrand. So speaking, he dropped the cavalier’s hand, and turned away. The next moment he had mounted to the deck. As he set his foot on the deck, the ship, which hitherto had been pretty steady, began to move, and he saw that his injunction to cut the cable had been fulfilled. Casting a glance around, he perceived that the sails, according to his instructions, had been all unbent and squared, and the men assembled at their several quarters. He was still looking round, when he was joined by Halyard. “All’s ready, Sir!” said that person. “Who is at the helm?” asked Hildebrand. “Tom Tarpaulin.” “Then, I will post myself beside him,” resumed Hildebrand. “Do thou look out for’ard.” Without further discourse, he ascended to the poop, or stern of the vessel, and stationed himself beside the helmsman. Tarpaulin--for the helmsman was no other--was steering straight before the wind’s eye, in a slanting direction, under the stern of the gun-boat, which was about two ships’ lengths ahead. From their superior elevation, they were able to view the deck of the gun-boat; but whether from the darkness, or that the deck was really unoccupied, they could not distinguish any of the crew. Gradually they drew closer and closer to the gun-boat’s stern. They scarcely ventured to breathe at this critical juncture; and the silence of so many men, all prompt for action, and within view of each other, augmented its terrible interest. The creaking of the tall masts, bowing before the breeze, and the hoarse murmur of the waves, as they turned aside before the ship’s bows, only made the silence more apparent, and the ear returned no echo to their inanimate noise. A brief interval brought them right athwart the gun-boat’s stern. There was no alarm. They still passed on, as at first, without interruption, though now in a more direct course. The turn of the helm, by which their course had been changed, brought them abreast of their enemy, at about twenty feet distance. The death-like silence still prevailed: every ear still thrilled with excitement; when the full, deep voice of Hildebrand, raised to its highest pitch, rang through the vessel. “Master Halyard!” he cried, “put out all our canvas, man the after guns, and prepare for boarders!”