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The waters of Boston Bay slept without a
ripple. The round green isles that swell here
and there from its bosom were reflected in
dark blue masses and bold outlines beneath
the surface. It was near sunset. The skies
were suffused and glowing with molten gold,
and the waters were no less gorgeous than the
sky. `As face answers to face in a glass,' so
the mirror-like bay gave back the green islands,
the golden firmament and the empurpled
clouds that magnificently curtained the
West. By inclining the head a little one
could see another world beneath the wave.
A soft haze, such as is peculiar to a September
sunset blended sky and sea, and communicated
a dreamy, pleasing indistinctness to
the horizon. The domes and towers of the
distant city enthroned upon her Three Hills;
the stately edifices on the wide sweeping
shores of the Bay; the fortresses upon its islands,
all, were tinted with the richest light,
reflected from the sunset sky and clouds; and
the hundred vessels of every size and class
that lay beclamed amid the scene, seemed to
have exchanged their snow-white canvass for
sails of purple and of gold.

The breeze by which they had been impelled
on their various courses, had died away in
mid-afternoon, and left them there motionless.
Each vessel was reflected in the watery
world below, with the distinctness of outline
of the reality; every spar and rope being
answered from beneath; and the mock vessel
was so like the true that it could not have been
told from it, save that it, like the islands, was
up side down. The men were reflected, moving
about uposide down, walking, as it seemed,
on their heads. It was all a beautiful scene.
It seemed to be suspended in a liquid element,
neither air nor water, between two
worlds. Some of the vessels, especially the
larger ones, had their sails brailed up, hanging
in festoons from the yards; others let them
remain to catch the first zephyr that should
come in from seaward.

The calm extended far out to sea, and the
glassy ocean rocked upon its shining bosom
many a vessel, diminished by the distance to
a mere speak flashing back the sunbeams from
the West, and sparking like a star. Near the
land idly hung upon the arch of the smooth
turquoise billow the graceful fisher's skiff
swinging lightly to its undulations. Occasionally
an unwieldly porpoise would roll his
huge curving back out of the water, and blowing
a cloud of silvery spray into the air, disappear;
or a scool of ellwives dart upwards
with one impulse and descend in a silvery
shower with a rushing noise rippling the sea in
a wide circle around.

The sun had but a few minutes longer to
remain above the horizon. Surrounded with
the glories he had created he was slowly retiring
behind the gorgeous curtains of rose
and purple clouds he had gathered about his
couch. But with his departure the splendor
of the sunset scene did not cease. The

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crimson, violet, orange, rose and azure mingled
and suffused the heavens from West to East,
`till the Orient rivalled the West in magnificence.
Slowly and gradually the celestial
splendor diminished. The rose and purple
changed into russet, and the golden lining of
the Tyrian clouds became silver, and the
Tyrian changed to black. The silvery lining
then grew gray and gray mixed every where
with the fading dyes, `till sky and earth and
sea assumed the sober livery of evening. A
glow, a blush yet lingered in the West and
North, while the East became more and more
a sober gray.

Still the calm continued. Not a breath of
air had stirred the polished waters of the bay.
The evening breeze was withheld, and, save as
they were slowly borne harborward by the
scarcely perceptible tides the numerous vessels
that dotted the bay, remained motionless.

The last tinge of rose had not given place
to gray in the North West, and the stars had
but just began to stud the blue arch, when
the Eastern horizon commenced to lighten up,
at first with a soft silvery radiance, just tinged
with the palest gold. It spread skyward
growing brighter each moment, suffusing the
East with the lovliest light—a fleecy, silvery
light reflecting the most delicate tints of violet
and orange. Suddenly, amid this exquisite
and lovely rivalry of the gorgous scene of
sunset—as gentle woman rivals man! the
upper end of the round moon appeared above
the sea. She rose like the sun with a veil of
silver over his disc. As she ascended from
the waters she flung a scarf of light across
them to every mariner's eye that watched her
rising, impatient for the ocean breeze that he
knew would follow her appearance.

Among the numerous vessels that reflected,
as if from banks of snow, her pure beams, there
was one which had before sunset drawn many a
curious eye from the decks of the trading vessels
that lay becalmed near her. She was a
three masted caravel of about one hundred and
eighty tons burthen, that lay abreast of the
pyramid known as `Nix Mate.' It was a craft
of a description entirely unfamiliar to the
honest skippers who were watching her from
the decks of their lumber vessels, and discussing
her with that freedom of speech which
republicans are apt to extend to every subject
at all novel or that looks like mystery.

There were, however, some of the rough
coasters, who had sailed in the molasses trade
to the West Indies, and who were, therefore,
more informed as to the probable character of
the stranger, which, like a hawk got among a
flight of doves, was making her way with the
Yankee craft into the harbor. They recollected
having seen such in Matanzas and on the
`main,' and knew they were used as trading
luggers in those distant seas.

`But what can the tarnal kritter be a-doin'
away here to Bosting, sticking her nose in
here among christian craft as if she had as
good right here as we natives?' said the skipper
of a lumber schooner from Penobscot in answer
to the skipper of a Kennebec sloop, who
lay becalmed just under his stern window
and who had given him the information just
detailed.

Wall, Capting Pettingell,' answered the
skipper, from the top of his lumber, which
was piled half way up to the cross-trees, dodging,
as he replied, to avoid a cloud of smoke,
seasoned with onions, that floated towards
him from the funnel of his caboose; `Wall,
that's wot I cant guess. Taint of en Spanish
vessels come to Boston Port, and sich a craft
as this I never know'd ventur' out o' the West
Indies!'

`It's a mity odd looking fish, any how,' responded
Captain Pettingel, looking through
his hollow hand at the stranger, which lay
about a third of a mile to the south and west
of him; `three masts and not a darned bit of
cross tree nor yard. Her sticks be as strait
and smooth as a liberty pole. I dont like her
looks, Capting Pinkham, do yew?' And this
courteous gentleman took three strides forward
and three strides aft on the plank that
served him for a quarter-deck.

`Wall, I can't zactly say as I do, Capting
Pettingell,' responded the Penobscot
skipper, shutting one eye and letting fall
his under jaw as he surveyed more closely
the suspicious vessel. `She don't to me look
exactly like them Spanish traders I've seen
to the West Indies. She looks too cranky
and trim for that. Just see how clean she
looks from stem to starn. She is as sharp in
the bows as a pilot boat, and as strait as an
arrow. That thing in my 'pinion is made
more for sailin' than freightin!'

`That's just my pinion, Capting, `said the
Kennebec skipper with an air of consequence
stickin' his hard brown hands into the pockets

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of an old blue broadcloth coat, which he wore
instead of a pea-jacket, and throwing back from
his forehead an antiquated bell-top hat to get a
better look at her. To tell you the truth,
Capting Pinkham, I have my `spisions `bout
that ar' three masted chap! I'm thinkin' he
in these waters for no good. But thar's a mano'-war
below `ll have an eye on him; so he
better look out how he behaves if he aint any
better than he should be, which it's my solemn
'pinion he aint. He musn't think he can
take the same liberties in these here parts as
he could in the West Indies. It's comin on
night and I tell ye, capting, it becomes us to
keep our eye on him. Josh!'

`Feyther!' answered a white headed smoky
faced urchin thrusting his head out of the caboose,
which was perched upon a pyramid of
shingles nearly on a level with the fore-cross
trees.

`Go down into the cabin and bring up my
double-barrel `Bunker Hill' and my powder
horn and bag 'o buck shot! I mean to show
fight till I die, Capting?'

`Don't be alarmed Capting Pettingel,' said
the Penobscot skipper laughing at the seriousness
of his friend; `I dare say he won't
do any mischief if he should prove to be
even a pirate. We are almost in harbor, and
with that frigate becalmed below us, there is
nothing to fear. Pirates look after higher
game than you or I!'

`Wall, it aint no harm bein' prepared, Capting.
If they send their boat aboard me, I'll
give 'em both barrels of Bunker Hill, if I can't
do no more! I am a Captain in the militia
when I'm to hum, and it wouldn't answer
for Capting Eben Pettingell to give up his
ship without firin' a shot. I'll be darned if I
don't kind o' feel riled when I look at the
kritter, and sort o' wish he was a Spanish pirate
and would take a notion to board the
`Polly Ann,' while I am her Captain; I guess
they wouldn't want to come agen!'

`You've pluck, I see Capting. But I don't
think you will have a chance to show your
military spirit. They seem to be lying becalmed
there very quiet!'

`I only wish they'd come aboard!' cried the
valorous man shouldering his double barrelled
gun and marching up and down the planks,
which were laid above his cargo of shingles
and clapboards! `I only wish they'd come!'

This spirited and courageous individual
then stopped and resting his gun upon a ratlin
of the starboard main shrouds aimed at
the vessel with the three masts: and made
several appalling demonstrations of his intention
to fire! There is no saying what might
have been the consequences of his over-broiling
militia valor to the object which had
aroused it, when all at once he dropped his
gun and, with a pale countenance, looked
over to the deck of his friend the skipper.

`Do you see that, Captaing Pinkham!—
They are letting down a boat and men are
gettin' in it! I do really believe they are
comin' right aboard o' me coz I aimed my gun
at 'em! 'Tisn't possible they overheard me,
think 'tis captaing?'

`I shouldn't wonder,' answered the other
dryly.

`What in natur shall we do, capting? I'm
darned if they aint fillin' thar boat with men
in red caps—pirates they tell al'ays wears red
caps! I say, what shall we do?'

`Give 'em both barrels of Bunker hill,'
answered Captain Pinkham with a smile; yet
closely watching the boat.

Although the vessel had to him a suspicious
appearance, he did not apprehend any danger
from her in the harbor, just at sunset, with a
frigate within gun shot and hundreds of coasting
vessels in sight. Yet he did not observe
this movement without interest. The boat
filled with men and impelled by light oars,
put off and pulled out towards them.

`They are coming,' cried the valorous captain
as pale as a sheet! `Shall I give it to em?'

`And before his friend could reply, bang!
bang! went both barrels of Bunker Hill, the
buck shot ploughing up the glassy surface a
hundred fathoms off, and falling a quarter of
a mile short of the boat. At the same moment
the boat changed its course and pulled out
ahead of the Spanish Baxel, when it was seen
that she was attached to her by a tow-line fastened
to the end of her flying jib-boom.

`There I told you I'd keep em off!' cried
the courageous gentleman on seeing the boat
haul ahead. `If it hadn't been for my bravery
we'd had our throats cut and our head strung
on a signal hilyard to make a necklace for her
captain! Thank me Capting Pinkham'

`You are an ass, Captain Pettingell. Dont
you see the boat was not coming here at all;
but only put off to tow! The vessel was drifting
towards the Nix Mate rock and they have

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got their boat out to pull her off into the channel.
'

`Wall, so they be!' answered the discomfited
warrior `But if they'd ha been coming
that would a skeered em I know! It ant done
no harm. They heered it and seed the shot
in the water and know we are ready for em
if they get up to any o' their piratish capers!'

`If they'd come nigher, captain, I should
have expected to see you jump into your boat
and pull for the next island! I dont think
your gun frightened them much! I dare say
they thought you were shooting at the seagulls
that are flying about us!'

`Captain Pinkham, you may jest; but I
tell ye, that chap is a dangerous neighbor.
If I was the captain up to the castle I wouldnt
let him pass, and if he tried to I'd skin him,
I'm plagued if I wouldnt! You see! That
boat ant out there for nothin! Its only playin'
bunkum.

And this bold man after calling for his
supper, set down and ate his biscuit and fried
onions with his eye on the enemy, and Bunker-Hill
placed loaded and ready cocked
across his knee.

A like curiosity and interest was felt on
board the other craft that were in sight of the
stranger, and to all she presented a suspicion
aspect. Those who, when the calm fell, found
themselves near her, towed themselves with
alacrity out of her way, for those who came
nighest to her least liked her looks.

In the meanwhile the object of the general
feeling of fear and dislike that pervaded the
fleet among which she had crept, lay upon
the waveless surface of the water as if sleeping
between two skies. Below her was painted
in bold outlines, hull, spar and canvass inverted.
She was very long and narrow and
lay crouching as it were, like a sleeping grey
hound, close to the water. Her hull was of a
dark bronze hue, relieved by a narrow bead
painted steel color, and intended to represent
a band of shining steel. Her decks were
closely shut in from stem to stern by her bulwarks,
above which could only be seen the
caps of her crew as they moved about. There
was visible no port, no gangway for admittance
on board. All was close aud mysterious.
What transpired on her decks was concealed
from all eyes. This feature presented
a striking contrast to the high open decks of
the Yankee craft around her, where skipper
and crew lived as exposed as if on the roof
of a meeting-house. This mystery the skippers
did not by any means like. They could
not think any thing honest could be going on
when they built up the sides of their vessel so
high `to keep folks from seeing.' Many a
skipper shook his head and prophecied about
her, as well as that respectable gentleman
who was the valorous possessor of `Bunker
Hill.'

The strange vessel as she lay suspended as
it were between two worlds, presented to the
eye of the true seamen a fine spectacle.
Her model was beautiful. Its symmetry as
faultless as that of a regatta club-boat! She
sat upon the flood with two of her graceful
lateen sails extended upon her slender masts
like a swan with its wings outspread to catch
the first air that stirred. Her three masts
were slender single sticks, the main being full
seventy feet long, and raking with a hold but
graceful inclination aft. They were stained
a bright vermillion, and the slender round
like yards that obliquely crossed them supporting
the triangular sail were black and
polished like ebony. There were but few
ropes visible, and the standing rigging was
very slight and without rattlings; as the sails
were hoisted from the deck, yard and all, by
halyards rooved through a truck at the masthead.
There were also halyards for pencil
flying topsails which were not now aloft, her
fore and main sails only being hoisted. She
carried also a jib and flying jib, both of which
were set. A more graceful, novel and picturesque
looking object altogether, as she lay
idly upon the water, has seldom met the eye
of either landsman or seamen than this foreign
looking craft. There was no sign of
armament, nothing to indicate whether she
was an armed vessel or only a simply merchantman.
That she was Spanish was evident
from her rig, and the dark red capped
crew that showed themselves in the boat.
Her ensign hang drooping over the stern, and
could not be made out; though from the different
colors it displayed in its closed folds, it
promised the first breath of wind that should
lift it to display the broad insignia of Spain.

The sun set; and the boat which had been
sent out ahead was ordered aboard, and the
vessel lay as before dark, silent and mysterious.
She had towed half a mile farther into
the harbor, and while, as the current began to

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set seaward, the vessels around dropped their
anchors to hold their ground, she threw out
from her bows two pairs of huge sweeps and
began heavily and slowly to work them unseen
within deck.

Gradually the sunset glories of the closing
day blended with the sober gray of night, and
still the three masted schooner or ship worked
her oars, and by this process held her own.
The evident dislike on board of her to dropping
anchor did not escape the vigilant
observation of the Yankee skippers, and especially
of the bold captain of the shingle
sloop, who with `Bunker Hil' charged within
three inches of the muzzle, had not left his
deck or taken his eye off the suspicious fellow
since the sun went down.

The moon at length rose upon the scene and
with her came the first `paw' of the night
breeze that had been so long delayed. Her
bright wake was rippled and the young waves
began to dance in her path and sparkle with
merry light. The vessels most seaward first
felt the wind as it set towards land, and were
first in motion; some standing out of the harbor
close hauled to make an offing, but the
greater part of them seeking the port directly
before them. It blew gently and steadily, scarce
ruffling the crest of a single wave and sending
the vessels in at about three knots speed.
Those that lay in the more open channel and
passes between the islands next took the wind
and were set in motion, while others sheltered
by islands were slower in spreading to it their
idle canvass. At length the caravel took it
on her quarter and gracefully yielding to the
invisible impulse shot onward, her sweeps at
the same time being drawn aboard by unseen
hands, and her three light flying topsails a
moment after were seen ascending from the
deck like snow-white birds of gigantic size,
and spreading their wings to the silvery radiance
of the moon. Then next the breeze
reached the Penobscot schooner and sloop,
and they also were in motion. Soon the
whole fleet, a few moments before so still and
inactive, was alive and the cheering song of
the heave-o-yo! as anchor after anchor was
hove up, gave place to the rippling music of a
hundred prows cutting the limpid surface of
the joyous sparkling bay.

Among those vessels that got the first fanning
of the breeze and stood harborward, was
the double decked frigate or razee, already al
luded to as having been becalmed a mile below
the Spanish caravel. Her lofty royals
first felt the upper current of moving air before
the surface of the water was disturbed
by a flaw, and slowly and majestically she
began to advance: she had, therefore, made
considerable progress, when the three masted
schooner which lay so much farther in,caught
the breeze. This vessel had not been noticed
from the frigate, as several coasters and the
low shoulder of an island lay in the range, and
it seemed from her manœuvering to be the
object of the schooner to keep in this range
even after the moon had risen, and she was in
motion again. If the honest coast skippers
had been surprised at her outlandish rig, they
were not less astonished and confounded at
her rate of sailing after the wind rose. She
seemed to walk the water! The breeze that
moved them along heavily at two knots, sent
her three or three and a half. She seemed to
want but a cap full of wind to make her dance
over the water like a whaleman's skiff. She
soon came up with the Polly Ann, and as the
vessels were crowded thickly together and the
passage was narrow, she went so near that
Captain Eben Pinkham trembled so that he
let fall Bunker Hill upon the plank and came
very near shooting his son and heir `Josh'
through the head; as it was he made a seive
of his fore-sail and was knocked over on his
back by the concussion. When he got to his
feet the `pirate,' as he swore she was, was
fifty fathom ahead of him leaving a white track
of foam behind.

`You'd better scamper and git out o' my
way,' said the militia hero on seeing this favorable
state of things; and taking up Bunker
Hill he put it to his shoulder and aimed at the
vessel in bravado; fully satisfied that the report
of his double-barrel had saved his load of
lumber, and perhaps his own and his son
Josh's neck from the hands of the `darn'd
pirate;' such being the complimentary and
graceful appeleation which Captain Pinkham
bestowed upon the enemy.

`I guess he wont want to come no nigher
the Polly Ann arter this,' said this worthy
and brave man as he looked after his retreating
fear-inspirer.

He then turned to seek the ocngratulations
of his son Josh and those of a bottled nose
Kennebec fisherman who composed his whole
crew, and who felt safe and happy under the

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protection of so brave a man, when he was
struck with astonishment on beholding his
vessel almost under the shadow of the triple
tower of canvass that rose high above the
lofty decks of the frigate. The next moment
the stately structure surged past her decks
looking down upon the sloop's topsail yard,
leaving the sloop as she passed rocking in her
wake as a child's chip boat would have done
in her own.