He took the night train to Bristol, where he was more fortunate in finding a vessel—the “Queen Charlotte”—that would sail for Baltimore on or after the tenth of June. Upon further inquiry at other ports, he found no more satisfactory prospect, and therefore he bespoke a passage on the Queen Charlotte. He then went down to his seat in Dorsetshire, and employed the intervening time in making judicious arrangements for that voyage, which, could he have found a vessel about immediately to sail for the United States, he would certainly without any preparation have undertaken. Withal, however, it was a weary, weary decade of days that passed before the tenth of June arrived, and Lord Montressor found himself on board the good ship Queen Charlotte. CHAPTER IX. SHIPWRECK. “Ah! many a dream was in that ship An hour before her death; And thoughts of home with sigh’s disturbed The sleeper’s long-drawn breath. · · · · · A hundred souls in one instant of dread Are hurried over the deck; And fast the miserable ship Becomes a lifeless wreck. Her keel hath struck a hidden rock, Her planks are torn asunder, And down comes her mast with a reeling shock, And a hideous crash like thunder Her sails are draggled in the brine, That gladdened late the skies, And her pennant that kissed the fair moonshine, Down many a fathom lies.”—_Wilson._ It was a glorious summer morning, when the splendor of the sky, the sparkling brightness of the water, the animating bustle on the docks, and in the boats—all conspired to raise and cheer the spirits of the spectator. At ten o’clock Lord Montressor entered the long-boat that was to convey him to the Queen Charlotte, where he found the captain, mate and men all engaged in the hearty work of preparation for getting under way. A fair wind had sprung up, and they were but waiting for the ebb tide. They had not to wait long. At twelve precisely the tide began to ebb. The captain came upon deck, seized his speaking-trumpet, and called out, “All hands! Up anchor!” In an instant every man was upon deck. “Each officer to post! Man the capstan! Stand by to let fall the tops’ils. Heave round the capstan! Heave roundly!” “Ay, ay, sir! Anchor’s apeak!” “Heave! Heave my hearties! Heave and trip the anchor!” The men laid themselves to the bars, turned vigorously, and then stopped to breathe. “A-trip it is, sir!” cried the mate. The moment the anchor was a-weigh the ship began to cast to larboard. The captain shouted through his speaking-trumpet— “Hoist the jib and the fore-to’mas’ stays’ils! Helm-a-starboard! So—steady—steady.” “Ay, ay, sir! Steady it is!” responded the helmsman.