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“THAT miniature seems to fix your attention, Mr. Faulcon!
Have you seen any one that it resembles?” asked Lightfoot,
after surveying him for a few moments in silence.

“I was about to ask you for whom it was taken?” asked Faulcon,
earnestly looking up.

“A fair girl whom I once loved, but who has cast me off when the
rest of the world did!”

“It cannot be that you have ever known and loved Alice Ashley?”
said Field, with a slight tremor of the lip, and a darkening expression
in his eyes.

Lightfoot made no reply. He did not change a muscle of his
well-schooled features. He saw at a glance that Faulcon had known
and he suspected had loved the original. His policy dictated to him
secrecy; for if his suspicions were true, his new officer and himself
would on the instant be foes instead of friends. He wished also to
draw his secret from him. At length he said in a light way:

“Who is Alice Ashley? Do you know a person of that name that
this resembles?”

“She is a fair maiden whom I have long felt a strong attachment
to. This miniature is a wondrous likeness of her. Yet it may be
mere accident—nay, it must be!”

“The faces of the beautiful have more or less similitude to one
another. The picture is a little pastime of my leisure hours, and
taken from memory. You will excuse me if I withhold the name!”

“I have no curiosity,” answered Field, not a little relieved at the
removal of his suspicions.

“Who is Miss Ashley? It seems to me I have heard the name!”

“She is the daughter of an eminent lawyer and judge, who now
resides not far from New Haven in a very elegant villa which he

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has recently erected there. He formerly resided in Boston, where
he acquired his fortune and honors. It was here I met with her,
and formed for her a very strong attachment. But some freak of
the heart, I know not from what cause, if any, she all at once grew
cold towards me. In vain I asked her the reason of her altered
manner—in vain I solicited her forgiveness if I had given her offence.
Her only reply was that I had not offended her. Her manner chilled
me, and I at length ceased to seek her presence, in which I only
found myself wretched from her cold indifference. Thus we gradually
grew estranged, and then she removed to her father's new abode
on the Sound, and I have not since beheld her. This miniature is a
striking resemblance to her; and when I first took it up, I was not a
little moved, for I suspected I had discovered the secret of her
estrangement to me!”

“I should like very much to see one who is so like this picture,”
answered Lightfoot, carelessly. “But you will now excuse me. I
have to see about getting my men aboard. Why do you regard me
so closely? Do you see any likeness in me to any of your friends?”
inquired the captain, with a smile.

“I at first thought, when you entered, that it was to the miniature
of yourself I had been looking at I discovered the familiar look which
puzzled me; but now I am satisfied that it is to the young seaman,
he who styled himself so facetiously `The Mild Segar!' Your air,
voice and manner are his!”

“They ought to be, for I and `The Mild Segar' are one and the
same person!”

“Then the riddle is solved. I recognise it to be so now very
clearly; but your different costume deceived me, as well as your
superior tone of address. This is an odd conceit!”

“I have assumed the character in which you first beheld me to be
enabled to choose and pick my own crew. I wished to ship them
myself, and I could not effect my object in my known rank as captain;
and besides I did not care to be known openly, for I have too
much pride to meet men who have known me as an officer, and see
and feel their looks of contempt!”

“Then none of your crew are aware that `Mild Segar' is their
captain?”

“Not one of them. They only look upon me as a merry, reckless
rogue, hail-fellow with them, and in full confidence with `the captain.'
When I get on board and off soundings, they will then know who I
am!”

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

“Won't the discovery weaken your authority?”

“On the contrary it will strengthen it. To a sailor no officer is
more feared and respected than the one with whom they may have
been placed, by accident, for a time on a free and familiar footing.
Besides I know all their characters and peccadilloes, which they
have freely shown me, and they will feel that I know them—that I
possess a knowledge which is power! I must now go and see the
lads I left at their revels, and have them packed away to-night ready
for being sent on board in the morning. Blinker will see that they
are safely cared for. He is my confidant, and an invaluable aid he
is to me in getting my crew. He was once a man-o'-war's man,
and I did him a service, in saving his back from the cat, that he has
never forgotten. He is a great villain, but is to me as faithful as a
hound. Now, good night, for a time. Here is a sofa, if you care to
seek forgetfulness of the exciting events of the day in sleep!”

With these words he left the room, and shortly reappearing in his
costume of a sailor, returned to the subterranean hall he had left an
hour before. Faulcon cast himself upon the sofa, but not to sleep.
His mind was active. His thoughts were painful and deeply agitated.
His memory run over rapidly the events of the day. He beheld
again the murdered merchant lying at his feet, whom he tried
to convince himself he had slain in self-defence; and again the horrible
form of his ghostly father stood before his appalled gaze. He
found himself all at once—by a sudden stroke—the son of a forger—
and a murderer! All his prospects in life were blasted as if by
lightning. In one day he had become an outlaw—a felon hunted by
the officers of justice! He groaned in despair. Death seemed to
him a relief from his condition of anguish. He sprung to his feet
with a cry of despair and wild grief. He paced the room in distress
of mind inconceivable by any one less wretched than he was. At
length, wearied with this intense mental excitement, he once more
threw his feverish frame upon the sofa, and by-and-bye slept.

He was awaked in the morning by the hand of the captain laid
with a light touch upon his arm.

“Come, my friend, it is time we were abroad ship. I have ordered
a coach, in which you will reach the pier in security. I have had
news this morning, which determines me to get under-weigh with
the first tide, which will be by twelve o'clock. My men are all on
board, and, as you see, all my furniture, save the sofa you lie on, which
I shall leave behind!”

Faulcon rose to his feet. The day was far advanced. He stood

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a few seconds inert and lost. But a moment's reflection brought
back to his wretched mind all the scenes of the day before, and reminded
him that he was an outlaw. He shuddered at the recollection,
and became pale.

“You are too sensitive, man. Take this tumbler of brandy. You
need it to quiet your nerves! What! you never drink strong waters!
Then so much the better. I wish I had never learned; but now I
can't do without them!”

“I shall be calmer soon. Is the coach ready?”

“Yes!”

“Then I am!” He passed his hand two or three times across his
brow, as if under strong mental suffering, and then staggered towards
the door. He felt his weakness, and making an effort to control his
feelings, succeeded in doing so. He walked to the coach with a firm
step.

“Keep your face hid, Faulcon!” said the captain, warningly.

“Yes, I quite forgot the necessity of disguising myself,” answered
the wretched young man; wretched not only because he had, as believed,
slain a fellow being, but from having lost name and character,
both of which had been so dear to him.

They entered the carriage together, and drove to the dock. Here
they alighted. Lightfoot was dressed as a citizen, in a blue coat and
white west; while Faulcon was wrapped in his cloak with his cloth
cap drawn down over his eyes. The cutter from the schooner was
in waiting, with a coxswain and four men at their oars. As Faulcon
stepped into the boat, and Lightfoot prepared to follow, with the
words “shove off,” upon his lips, a man touched his arm. He turned
to see who it was, and beheld a stout person in a thick box coat, and
carrying a large heavy cane.

“Who is the gentleman in the boat?” asked the man with a certain
bold, inquisitive air.

“He is my friend—an invalid!”

“I should like to see his face!”

“You would, hey?” answered Lightfoot, giving the boat a strong
push with his foot, and leaping into it. “Let fall, and give way,
men! Lively, lively?” he called.

The oarsmen bent to their oars with a good will, and impelled the
cutter many fathoms from the stairs. The man whom he had eluded,
and who was an officer of the police, immediately shouted for a boat
to pursue, at the same time calling on the persons around to embark

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with him, and aid in the capture of a murderer; for he said that the
man in the cloak must be Faulcon, and no one else.

The officer was delayed full five minutes before he could obtain
and man a boat, when he put off with three other police officers, who
had come to his aid. Lightfoot, when within hailing distance of the
schooner, stood up in the stern of the boat, and gave orders to his
lieutenant on board, to loose the topsails and jib, and slip the cable
without delay. When he reached the gangway, part of the men
were already aloft, casting the sails loose from the yards, and others
had manned the jib-halyards. Lightfoot sprung upon deck, and with
his voice, cheered the men to active exertions. The police-boat in
the meanwhile, pulled steadily for the schooner, and coming near,
hailed.

“What do you desire?” answered Lightfoot, looking over the
quarter railing.

“The surrender of the man in the cloak, who is a murderer!”

“Come and take him; but I caution you beforehand, for my men
are about to throw cold shot over the side, and if any of them should
stave the bottom of your boat through, you must not blame me!”

“You are no better than a pirate,” answered the police officer with
terrible anger. “If I can't get my man, I know who can! In less
than half an hour you shall have a brig-of-war after you!”

“Give my compliments to her commander,” responded Lightfoot,
gaily, “and tell him I should like to have him come and dine with me—
if he can catch me!”

The police officer, after replying by a round volley of oaths, gave
orders to his men to pull in the direction of the Charlestown Navy
Yard, where rode at anchor the gun-brig Boxer, all ready for sea.

“This fellow will give us trouble, after all. You see now, Mr.
Faulcon, I am your friend. I could have given you up. I must lose
my cable and anchor to save you now. I may have to risk a battle
also, for the Boxer is a fast sailer as the wind now is, NN. W. But
you need not apprehend being taken. My beautiful Wing of the
Wind will out-sail any thing that floats. There, we are in motion.
See the top-sails begin to feel the wind, and swell like balloons! Hear
the singing about her bows, and the gurgle under her counter. We
have steerage way on her now, and can laugh at the Boxer!”

The police-boat pulled swiftly towards the gun-brig. Her course
was watched with interest by the Colombian captain and Faulcon.
They saw her reach the vessel and board her. In a few seconds afterwards,
the shrill piping of the boatswain's whistle broke upon their

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ears across the water. The top-sails in a few moments opened to
the breeze, and in ten minutes the brig-of-war was standing on after
the schooner with top-gallantsails set.

The Wing of the Wind had, however, got down as far as the Castle,
when the Boxer got under-weigh, and had full two miles the advantage
of her. The schooner passed the Castle under full sail, with
the Colombian flag flying, and in half an hour after slipping her cable,
was below the islands, and lightly dancing to the undulations of the
ocean billows. The brig cracked on after her with royals aloft, and
and studden-sails abeam, before a seven-knot nor-wester, and when
last visible, outside “the Lower Light,” seemed to be fast gaining on
the chase.

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