Five and seventy years ago, when our story commences, this bay was even more shut out from the Atlantic than it is at present; for while now there is an inlet directly in its front, at that period the entrance was further to the south. Where, at present, vessels of considerable draught pass under full sail, was then a beach, elevated some distance above the water. On an arm of this bay, or to speak more accurately, on an inconsiderable stream jutting into an arm of the bay, there stood, at the time of which we write, a small settlement, which, though its first beginnings dated back scarcely more than ten or fifteen years, already gave promise of becoming a thriving place. In the rude tavern of this incipient village, on the evening preceding the events detailed in the last chapter, quite a number of persons were gathered. Most of the company appeared to belong to the various privateers then lying in the bay, and were merely boisterous tars; but there was one individual, whose bearing, not less than his dress, bespoke him of a higher rank. He was a man apparently about eight-and-twenty years of age, handsome in person, and with a face which, though by no means homely, was principally remarkable for the indications it gave of frankness, decision, a good heart, and a superior intellect. It was impossible, indeed, to look on that countenance, without feeling that, while its possessor was born to rule in public affairs, his destiny was to be equally fortunate in winning esteem and affection in private life. He wore the buff and blue of the American army. Sitting in one corner, where he was busily engaged in writing, he seemed to be entirely unconscious of what was going on around him, except when he occasionally intermitted the busy motion of his pen, and leaning his head on one hand, gazed with an abstracted smile on the sports of the crowd. For, night having closed in, and the seamen being ashore on leave till morning, a black fiddler had been procured, and a dance begun. It is true there were none of the fairer sex present to participate in the amusement, but this, so far from checking the merriment, only gave it more freedom and boisterousness. Several countrymen, from small farms in the interior, who had come down with produce in the afternoon, and whom the exhilarating sounds of the violin had tempted to linger behind, when their sturdy dames were expecting them at home, joined heartily in the fun. Utterly heedless of the black looks awaiting them, when, repentant on the morrow, they should slink into the chimney corner, they laughed, and joked, and danced, and drank whiskey with Jack Tar, as if there had been, and never would be, a “gudewife” angry at neglect, and “nursing her wrath to keep it warm.”