quarter-gallery window, and rose rapidly to the surface, almost spent for want of air,—holding the compass above my head. It was a minute after I had breathed, before the loud ringing in my ears enabled me to hear the shouts of my comrades. They had seen the glimmer of the metal as I rose, and very naturally took the brass for gold; but they were soon undeceived, and after I had been hauled on board, and had time to examine my prize, I undeceived them still further, for I saw a name and a date upon the implement. ‘So, comrades,’ I exclaimed, ‘the little man is playing us false. The Santa Fè must have been lost before the year 1507, and upon this compass case is written, “Ericson. Amsterdam, 1645.”’ At this, there was a loud shout of wrath, and the seamen turned in fury to the dwarf; but he preserved a wonderful boldness,—all the nervous agitation was gone, and though he was pale, neither hand nor lip quivered. ‘This is not the wreck of the Santa Fè,’ thundered Captain Jem, ‘and we were dolts to take it for such. Timber must have mouldered away in half the time this vile dwarf would have us believe that the ship beneath us had lain under water. But take care,’ and the captain turned to Bedloe and shook him soundly,—‘take care how you trifle with us, or, as you seem so fond of this wreck, by God, you shall lay your stunted bones in it.’ Paul Bedloe seemed prepared for this burst, for he said very calmly—‘I have told you what I know, and if you are deceived, it is because I was beguiled myself. The Indians spoke falsely.’ ‘And the ingot—the silver ingot!’ shouted half a dozen of the men. ‘That I saw with my own eyes brought up from the water,’ replied Bedloe; ‘and he who recovered it said that there was much more where that came from.’ I looked hard into the dwarf’s eyes. He bore my gaze for a minute steadily enough, and then tried to turn away. ‘You have lied in your throat!’ I cried—‘you have lied, and you know you have lied. There are two wrecks on the shoal.’ ‘There may be a dozen for all I know,’ said the little man very stubbornly; ‘you may drown me if you will, but that will not put you nearer the treasures of the Santa Fè.’ Captain Jem paused and looked round upon the men, as though he were collecting their thoughts. Just then, the boatswain hailed from the schooner that the weather was getting very ugly to the southward. We all looked up, and saw an ominous black cloud lying looming upon the sea, its upper edges gilded with a lurid glow, as though edged with red-hot iron. The regular trade wind, too, had ceased to blow, except in faint sickly puffs, and the schooner began to rise and sink upon great swelling undulations from the southward, so that loose ropes and blocks shook and rattled, and the gaffs of the foresail and mainsail swung to and fro with a creaking, wheezing sound. It was clear that something unpleasant was brewing.