The supplications from the land were now sharpened into cries of agony, and the young man, catching the pilot by the arm, said eagerly, ''Tis the voice of a woman! where can be the danger? Take her in, pilot, at my demand, and my charge!' 'Take her in at your peril, pilot!' rejoined the elderly man. Rage had elevated his voice; the petitioner heard it, and called--screamed, rather, for mercy. 'Nay, since she is but a woman, and in distress, save her, pilot, in God's name!' said an old sea officer. 'A woman, a child, and a fallen enemy, are three persons that every true Briton should scorn to misuse.' The sea officer was looked upon as first in command; the young man, therefore, no longer opposed, separated himself from a young lady with whom he had been conversing, and, descending from the boat, gave his hand to the suppliant. There was just light enough to shew him a female in the most ordinary attire, who was taking a whispering leave of a male companion, yet more meanly equipped. With trembling eagerness, she sprang into the vessel, and sunk rather than sat upon a place that was next to the pilot, ejaculating fervent thanks, first to Heaven, and then to her assistant. The pilot now, in deep hoarse accents, strictly enjoined that no one should speak or move till they were safely out at sea. All obeyed; and, with mingled hope and dread, insensible to the weather, and dauntless to the hazards of the sea, watchful though mute, and joyful though filled with anxiety, they set sail. In about half an hour, the grumbling of the pilot, who was despotic master of the boat, was changed into loud and vociferous oaths. Alarmed, the passengers concluded that they were chaced. They looked around,--but to no purpose; the darkness impeded examination. They were happily, however, mistaken; the lungs of the pilot had merely recovered their usual play, and his humour its customary vent, from a belief that all pursuit would now be vain. This proved the signal to general liberty of speech; and the young lady already mentioned, addressing herself, in a low voice, to the gentleman who had aided the Incognita, said, 'I wonder what sort of a dulcinea you have brought amongst us! though, I really believe, you are such a complete knight-errant, that you would just as willingly find her a tawny Hottentot as a fair Circassian. She affords us, however, the vivifying food of conjecture,--the only nourishment of which I never sicken!--I am glad, therefore, that 'tis dark, for discovery is almost always disappointment.' 'She seems to be at prayers.' 'At prayers? She's a nun, then, depend upon it. Make her tell us the history of her convent.' 'Why what's all this, woman?' said the pilot, in French, 'are you afraid of being drowned?' 'No!' answered she, in the same language, 'I fear nothing now--it is therefore I am thankful!'