Under this arrangement, one of the
cabin-doors was opened, and I sallied forth.
Astonishment almost deprived me of the power of vision, when I looked
around me. Quite fifty armed white men, sailors and natives of France,
by their air and language, crowded round me, as curious to see me, as
I could possibly be to see them. In their midst was Harris, who
approached me with an embarrassed and sorrowful air--
"I know I deserve death, Mr. Wallingford," this man commenced; "but I
fell asleep after so much work, and everything looking so safe and
out-of-harm's-way like; and when I woke up, I found these people on
hoard, and in possession of the ship."
"In the name of wonder, whence come they, Harris? is there a French
ship at the island?"
"By all I can learn and see, sir, they are the crew of a wrecked
letter-of-marque--an Indiaman of some sort or other; and finding a
good occasion to get off the island, and make a rich prize, they have
helped themselves to the poor Crisis--God bless her! say I, though she
is now under the French flag, I suppose."
I looked up at the gaff, and, sure enough, there was flying the
_tri-color!_
CHAPTER XVI.
"The morning air blows fresh on him:"
"The waves dance gladly in his sight;"
"The sea-birds call, and wheel, and skim--"
"O, blessed morning light!"
"He doth not hear their joyous call; he sees
No beauty in the wave, nor feels the breeze.
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