The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1906-10-11
CHArTER XVIII.

The sun sank amidst a cloud confa
grafton of sullen and thunderous magnif
cence. The coastline behind us darkenet
and faded until the crests of the breakins
waves rose CHASTITY white against tn,
gloom of the shrouded land But for
tunately the sky above us was still clear
and silver crescent of the moon, swing
ing at an angle as if the wind had tilted
her, showed Us the chase heading south
ward. 1t was evidently some port in
France for which she pointed. My cousin
had joined Isaac, who was at the tiller
and the pair conversed in low tones
glancing frequently to the northwest
from which the wind blew strong and
cold.
1t was, according to my remembrance
past nine O'Clock that the steady pres
sure of the wind failed In its place
came gusts, fierce and uncertain, spaced
with lulls of restless calm. Ignorant az
l was of sea weather, / began to grow
uneasy. There seemed a menace in the
dark, mysterious wall of cloud to wind
ward, rampant edged with silver from
the moon. Motionless it hung like q
heavy curtain that at its rising would re-
veal some monstrous spectacle. For the
first time / realized the insignificance
of our boat, its loneliness amidst the hur.
rying wastes of the sea, and my anxiety
passed into alarm. 1t was about this
time that my nausea suddenly left me-
This was a great relief to me, for was
well aware that an excess of sea-sickness
may result in a serious prostration.
1t was in one of the lulls l have men.
toned that Isaac gave my cousin the
helm and with his mans assistance low.
cred the sail on the smaller mast at the
stern which, l believe, is known nautical
" as the jigger. They also reefed the
larger canvas on the foremost The
Agnes Jane, which was now not more
than four hundred yards away, showed
no sign of following our example.
MARK Pennyfold must be mazed,'
said Isaac on his return aft. "E must
have zeen US were chasin' e, yet e gives
we no chance o. speaking i'm; and now
e be CHANGING his boat by carrying on
with that press O. zail. Place to keep thy
hand on the tiller, EUR"
The little Cornishman rolled forward
to where / sat, and stood, making a hol-
low Of his hands. A great stiffness held
the sea and air, save for the whisper
of the gliding waves.
sThe Agnes Jane. ahoyw
He drove the words over the black
waters like the blast of trumpet.
The Agnes Jane, ahoy!'
Again he called, and this time there
came an answering voice.
Help" it cried-the one woodland
was silent. We waited, but that was all.
1T is no good. Treherne," said my
cousin. 'They have an ugly customer on
board who does not mean to be taken.
He has his pistol at their heads as like
as not. They must take their chance
Of"
His words were lost in stirring note
like the throbbing of a giant harp-string,
a note that rose to a shrek and then
melted into a rafting, drumming roar,
the uttermost diapason of the storm
wind. For some seconds we heeled over,
so that / could have dipped my face in
the bubbling waters; and then, slowly
gathering way, we shot forward through
the flying spray, with Treherne yelling
to his man in tones that even outsounded
the squall itself.
We were upon her almost before re-