Acquainted with the admiral's situation, the vicar had anxiously waited the summons which he was but too well aware would come, for he knew the human heart, and the cry for aid which the sinner in his fear sends forth. He was soon in the presence of the admiral, for the first time since the day that he quitted the house with the letter of the unfortunate Peters in his possession. The conversation which ensued between the agitated man, who had existed only for this world, and the placid teacher, who had considered it (as he inculcated) as only, a preparation for a better, was too long to be here inserted. It will be sufficient to say, that the humbled and terrified wretch, the sufferer from disease, and greater sufferer from remorse, never could have been identified with the once proud and over-bearing mortal who had so long spurned at the precepts of religion, and turned a deaf ear to the mild persuasions of its apostle. "But that letter!" continued the admiral, in a faltering voice--"what was it? I have yet one child alive--Oh, send immediately for him, and let me implore his forgiveness for my cruelty." "That letter, sir, was written but one hour previously to his death." "His death!" cried the admiral, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. "God have mercy on me! then I have murdered him also. And how did he die? Did he starve, as I expressed in my horrid--horrid wish?" "No, sir; his life was forfeited to the offended laws of his country." "Good God, sir!" hastily replied the admiral, whose ruling passion-- pride--returned for the moment, "you do not mean to say that he was hanged?" "Even so; but here is the letter which he wrote--read it." The admiral seized the letter in his tremulous hand, and devoured every word as he perused it. He let it fall on his knees, and said, in a subdued voice, "My God!--my God!--and he asked forgiveness, and forgives me!" Then, with frantic exclamation, he continued: "Wretch that I am,-- would that I had died for thee, my son--my son!" and clasping his hands over his head, he fell back in a state of insensibility. The vicar, much affected with the scene, rang the bell for assistance, which was obtained; but the wretched man had received a shock which hastened his dissolution. He was too much exhausted to sit upright, and they were obliged to carry him to the bed, from which he never rose again. As soon as he was sufficiently recovered to be able to converse, he waved the servants from the room, and resumed in a faltering voice-- "But, sir, he mentions his child--my grandchild. Where is he? Can I see him?" "I am afraid not, sir," replied the vicar, who then entered into a recital of the arrangements which had taken place, and the name of the ship on board of which our hero had been permitted to remain, under the charge of Adams, the quartermaster.