Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-09-03
PART H.-CHAPTEE IL

1 dawn. The moon was dull in the West, and the stars were paling. There was light enough to see the length of the deck, where the view was not obstruct- ed, and as yet there was no sign of outbreak. The Captain walked for ward with Crawford, saw that the out was at his post, and stopped a mo- ment to observe the men. A silence | fell upon them as they saw him.
 "Whcre's that big mulatto?" he abruptly asked. Gan any of you tell me?''
 There were several head-shakcs, and | two or three negatives ln Spanish.
 "May he jump overboard," one of | the negroes growled.
 Hiding, likely" one of the vagrants ventured.
 "Now mark me, menr' the Captain said. "You know what manner of | man am: I'm not to be fooled with. Some of you know where that fellow is, We shall be at Nassau before dark, and then that man will go ashore in irons. He'll go if it takes the whole British garrison to bring him out. You hear mo? Just tell him that, and that he'd better deliver himself up peaca- | bly," .-.. The two walked aft again II don't think I'd have told them Utat, sir,' said Crawford. "Why not?"
 "It may make them moro dcspcr- atc.''
 '@Nshaw! Such fellows as those nc- groes arc always desperate. What they need is to feel the strong hand on them. They hadn't heard from me for several hours, and l thought it time to show myself to them again." He stopped and leaned against the long-aoat. His companion was silent.
 Another day of this suspense and vigilance, and we'll make port again and rid ourselves of these pests" "l hope so, sir
 The Captain said nothing for mo- ment, and then suddenly asked:
 "Mr. Crawford, are you supcrsti- tious?''
 II don't know that I am." He ad- ded, with laugh: Il suppose I'm not enough of sailor for that"
 You say that in jest; but there's truth in it. Now look at me. You see what l am; you know mo pretty well. You wouldn't take me for a man likely to give way to presentiments? ''Certainly not
 "And yet, tell you that in the hours 0f oh thaf hoe @l>o belief has been forced upon me that I shall not see another sunset.'
 "You'll see many hundreds of them, sir. 1 don't wonder you are disturbed in mind by what has happened on this | vessel in less than twenty-four hours; but I'm confident the worst is over."
 "You think I'm nervous and flighty, as most men would be in my place. You are wrong. If you should feel my pulse you: would find it as steady and strong as the beat of the pendu- lum. l am not governed by any weak fear; it is simply a powerful presenti- | ment of speedy death that has come | to me.' His words were so solemn that Craw- ford could at first make no reply. "Still," he at last vcntured, .you must admit that there is no peril that threatens you that does not equally | threaten me-"
 Mot at all. My belief is just as firm that you will escape these dangers and live long to tell about them. Just look back at what has happened to you in the past month! Fate has been won derfully kind to you, and will continue to be, l verify believe. You arc marked for life, not death. No man can do the things that you have done, without having what should call q firm, grtp on euistence. Don't ask me how all this seems so clear to me; feel it-but can no more. explain it than I can tell what made this wind rise. and what keeps it blowing" 1 There was absolutely nothing that Henry Crawford could say. The Cap tain's manner warned him that what had been said was but the prelude to something of great importance that was to follow. <4. l "lt is not 9 mere idle whim that leads mo to tell you this," Captain Willis vent on. "f I supposed that we were all to be Involved in a common disaster, and that none of us should ever sail into Boston harbor, you would have heard nothing of this from