Emily had behaved uncommonly well in
the brush with the pirates, and everybody was glad to keep her in the
ship. The men swore she brought good luck, forgetting that the poor
girl must have met with much ill-luck, in order to be in the situation
in which she was actually placed.
Nothing occurred on the passage from St. Helena to New York, worthy of
being specially recorded. It was rather long, but I cannot say it was
unpleasant. At length our reckoning told us to look out for land. The
Major and Emily were on deck, all expectation, and ere long we heard
the welcome cry. A hazy cloud was just visible on our lee-bow. It grew
more and more dense and distinct, until it showed the hues and furrows
of a mountain-side. The low point of the Hook, and the higher land
beyond, then came in view. We glided past the light, doubled the Spit,
and got into the upper bay, just an hour before the sun of a beautiful
day in June was setting. This was in the year of our Lord 1802.
CHAPTER XXI.
"Drink! drink! to whom shall we drink?
To a friend or a mistress?--Come, let me think!
To those who are absent or those who are here?
To the dead that we loved, or the living still dear?
Alas! when I look I find none of the last!
The present is barren--let's drink to the past.
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