“Ay, you have probably passed some pleasant nights, with your eyes open, among them, yourself, Master Pilot,” said Manual; “they may thank the Frenchman, Thurot, in the old business of '56, and our own daredevil, the bloody Scotchman, as the causes of their quarters being so often beaten up. After all, Thurot, with his fleet, did no more than bully them a little, and the poor fellow was finally extinguished by a few small cruisers, like a drummer's boy under a grenadier's cap; but honest Paul sang a different tune for his countrymen to dance to, and--” “I believe you will shortly dance yourself, Manual,” interrupted Griffith, quickly, “and in very pleasure that you have escaped an English prison.” “Say, rather, an English gibbet,” continued the elated marine; “for had a court-martial or a court-civil discussed the manner of our entrance into this island, I doubt whether we should have fared better than the daredevil himself, honest----” “Pshaw!” exclaimed the impatient Griffith; “enough of this nonsense, Captain Manual: we have other matters to discuss now. What course have you determined to pursue, Mr. Gray?” The Pilot started, like a man aroused from a deep musing, at this question, and after a pause of a moment he spoke in a low tone of voice, as if still under the influence of deep and melancholy feeling: “The night has already run into the morning watch, but the sun is backward to show himself in this latitude in the heart of winter.--I must depart, my friends, to rejoin you some ten hours hence: it will be necessary to look deeper into our scheme before we hazard anything, and no one can do the service but myself: where shall we meet again?” “I have reason to think that there is an unfrequented ruin at no great distance from us,” said Griffith; “perhaps we might find both shelter and privacy among its deserted walls.” “The thought is good,” returned the Pilot, “and 'twill answer a double purpose. Could you find the place where you put the marines in ambush, Captain Manual?” “Has a dog a nose? and can he follow a clean scent?” exclaimed the marine; “do you think, Signor Pilota, that a general ever puts his forces in an ambuscade where he can't find them himself? 'Fore God! I knew well enough where the rascals lay snoring on their knapsacks, some half an hour ago, and I would have given the oldest majority in Washington's army to have had them where a small intimation from myself could have brought them in line ready dressed for a charge. I know not how you fared, gentlemen, but, with me, the sight of twenty such vagabonds would have been a joyous spectacle; we would have tossed that Captain Borroughcliffe and his recruits on the point of our bayonets, as the devil would pitch----” “Come, come, Manual,” said Griffith, a little angrily, “you constantly forget our situation and our errand; can you lead your men hither without discovery, before the day dawns?”