On the deck of the poop, overlooking the rest and retired from the crowd beneath them, stood Mrs Wyllys and her charge, neither of whom announced in the slightest degree, by eye or air, that anxiety which might readily be supposed natural to females who found themselves in a condition so critical as in the company of lawless freebooters. On the contrary, while the former pointed out to the latter the hillock of pale blue which rose from the water, like a dark and strongly defined cloud in the distance, hope was strongly blended with the ordinarily placid expression of her features. She also called to Wilder, in a cheerful voice; and the youth, who had long been standing, with a sort of jealous watchfulness, at the foot of the ladder which led from the quarter-deck, was at her side in an instant. “I am telling Gertrude,” said the governess, with those tones of confidence which had been created by the dangers they had incurred together, “that yonder is her home, and that, when the breeze shall be felt, we may speedily hope to reach it; but the wilfully timid girl insists that she cannot believe her senses, after the frightful risks we have run, until, at least, she shall see the dwelling of her childhood, and the face of her father. You have often been on this coast before, Mr Wilder?” “Often, Madam.” “Then, you can tell us what is the distant land we see.” “Land!” repeated our adventurer, affecting a look of surprise; “is there then land in view?” “Is there land in view! Have not hours gone by since the same was proclaimed from the masts?” “It may be so: We seamen are dull after a night of watching, and often hear but little of that which passes.” There was a quick, suspicious glance from the eye of the governess, as if she apprehended, she knew not what, ere she continued,— “Has the sight of the cheerful, blessed soil of America so soon lost its charm in your eye, that you approach it with an air so heedless? The infatuation of men of your profession, in favour of so dangerous and so treacherous an element, is an enigma I never could explain.” “Do seamen, then, love their calling with so devoted an affection?” demanded Gertrude, in a haste that she might have found embarrassing to explain. “It is a folly of which we are often accused,” rejoined Wilder, turning his eye on the speaker, and smiling in a manner that had lost every shade of reserve. “And justly?” “I fear, justly.” “Ay!” exclaimed Mrs Wyllys, with an emphasis that was remarkable for the tone of soft and yet bitter regret with which it was uttered; “often better than their quiet and peaceful homes!” Gertrude pursued the idea no further; but her line full eye fell upon the deck, as though she reflected deeply on a perversity of taste which could render man so insensible to domestic pleasures, and incline him to court the wild dangers of the ocean. “I, at least, am free from the latter charge,” exclaimed Wilder: “To me a ship has always been a home.”