“Now, will I not let thee speak more till to-morrow,” he said, when he had thus attended her. “But our good pantler, whom thou mayst trust in all things, will watch thee through the night, and get thee whatsoever thou listest. For me, I must hie to the deck.” Inez was about to reply, but Hildebrand, putting on a serious look, raised his finger to his lips, and she forbore. Leaving the pantler to watch her, Hildebrand turned on one side, and caught up some dry clothes, which, during his absence from the ship, the careful pantler had laid out against his return. As he had been exposed to the storm without a cloak, he was wet to the skin; and even the strong excitement he had been labouring under, and the robustness and vigour of his frame, though equal to a trying ordeal, did not render him insensible to the chilling influence of his saturated garments. The greater need of Inez attended to, he proceeded to throw them off, and to don those which, he now discovered, had been set out for his use by the pantler. He turned away when he had thus changed his attire, and, with a quick step, passed to the contiguous hatchway, and ascended to the deck. The storm had subsided, and the excessive darkness, which had been its leading and most terrible feature, had materially diminished. The gale, it is true, continued high, but, as it swept away the exhausted thunder-clouds, this served rather to clear the atmosphere, than otherwise. One could now distinguish the outlines of the shore, and, here and there, the broken sky, with the clouds flying over it like wind. The water, too, though not a whit calmer, could be viewed to a greater distance, and looked a degree less boisterous under the increased light. While Hildebrand noted these particulars, his eye, in looking down the river, was attracted to two distinct flashes of light, which were quickly followed by the report of cannon. Turning to inquire what this could mean, his glance fell on Master Halyard. “Save thee, Halyard!” he said. “Didst note yonder signals?” “Ay, Sir!” answered Halyard. “Two of the enemy, who broke from their moorings a while ago, have run ashore, and are firing guns of distress.” The firing was here repeated. “It may be our lot soon,” rejoined Hildebrand; “for we must not be found here at daylight. Think’st thou we can reach the bay?” “The wind is right aft,” returned Halyard; “and we may, peradventure, ride down safely. One thing is certain--that we cannot hold our ground; for our cable, though no chamber-cord, is dragging apace, and will speedily snap.” “Slip it, then!” said Hildebrand. “Have up all the hands, and do thou look out for’ard thyself. I will take the helm.” “Ay, ay, Sir!” replied Halyard. And so promptly did he bestir himself, that, in less than ten minutes afterwards, Hildebrand’s injunctions were carried into effect; Hildebrand had posted himself at the helm; and the ship was riding down the river, as near the centre as he could keep her, under bare poles.