CAPTAIN KYD;

OR,

THE WIZARD OF THE SEA.

A ROMANCE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF

"THE SOUTHWEST," "LAFITTE," "BURTON," &c.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

NEW-YORK:

HARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET.

1839.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1838,
By Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk's Office of the Southern District of New-York.

CAPTAIN KYD;
OR,
THE WIZARD OF THE SEA.

BOOK I.
CONTINUED

CHAPTER VIII.

Towards noon of the day on which the events related in the last chapter transpired, a signal was displayed on one of the towers of Castle Cor, and shortly afterward the yacht, which hitherto had appeared so lifeless, got under weigh. Like a snowy seabird seeking her nest, she spread her broad white sails and stood in towards the land, fired a gun, and hove to within cable's length of the beach. A well-manned boat, with a crimson awning stretched above the stern-sheets, and gay with the flags of England and of Bellamont, presently put off from her, and pulled to the foot of the path that led up to the castle. In a few minutes afterward a party was seen descending the cliff, consisting of Lady Bellamont, Grace Fitzgerald, Kate Bellamont and the earl, on the arm of whom the latter leaned pale and sad, followed by a large number of attendants, and others who had come to witness the embarcation. On arriving at the boat, which lay against the rock so that they could easily step into it, they were received by the commander of the yacht in person—a bluff, middle-aged seaman, his manners characterized by a sailor's frankness, united with the ease and courtesy of a well-bred gentleman.

"How is the wind, Kenard?" asked the earl of the officer, as he came to the place of embarking; "'tis somewhat light and contrary, methinks, for our voyage."

"It comes from the south by west, my lord, but we can lay our course till we clear the cape, when it will be full fair. I trust our cabin will be honoured with a larger share of loveliness than I had anticipated," he said, smiling with gallantry as he saw Kate Bellamont and the countess were of the party.

"So you did not give me the credit for being so very lovely until you had seen me, Master Kenard," said Grace, wilfully misapplying his words.

"When I look on your face, I assuredly can have no wish that my cabins should be graced with more beauty than I behold there, fair lady," answered the seaman, lifting his cap gallantly.

"A pretty speech to come from the sea," said Grace, laughing.

"Come, fair niece, the winds wait for no one," said the earl, stepping from the rock upon the cushioned seats of the gig, after having taken a tender leave of his countess and daughter.

"Adieu, then, sweet cousin!"

"Adieu, dear Grace!"

And, for a moment, the lovely girls lingered in a parting embrace, kissing again and again each other's cheeks, while their full eyes ran over. It seemed as if they never would separate!

"Nay, my sweet Grace, will you give all your adieus and affectionate partings to your cousin?" said the countess, interrupting their lingering parting.

With another warm embrace, another kiss, and a fresh shower of tears, Grace released herself from Kate's entwining arms and threw herself into those of Lady Bellamont. The earl then gently took her hand and led her into the boat.

The baggage, in the mean while, had been placed in it by the servants and seamen, and the earl and his niece having taken their seats beneath the silken canopy and once more interchanged adieus with those on the rock, the captain bade the men give way in the direction of the yacht, the yards of which, at the same moment, were manned to receive the noble party. The boat, urged on its way by eight oars, cut swiftly through the crested waves, and in a short time after leaving the land was alongside. The deck of the vessel was within a few feet of the water; and half a dozen steps, let down by a hinge into the boat, formed a safe and easy means of getting on board. As Grace, who had not ceased to wave her handkerchief to the party on shore, placed her foot upon the deck, her eyes rested, with surprise that nearly broke forth into an exclamation, on Mark Meredith, who stood close beside her, manning, with other young sailors, the rope that lifted the stairs. Forgetful of his duty, he looked with all his soul after her retiring form, as, leaning on her uncle's arm, she walked aft amid the loud cheers from the crew on the yards.

"Run away with it!" cried the officer of the gangway to the young seamen at the fall.

But Mark was deaf to the order, and was nearly thrown down by the rapid movement of his companions ere he could recover himself.

"So, so, my green un! you must have quicker ears than this if you would serve King Billy. And what are your eyes doing aft? Tom," he added, to a seaman who was fitting a tompion to the starboard gun amidships, as Mark, blushing and confused, retreated from this reproof among the crew, "is this lad in your mess?"

"Ay, sir," said the man, ceasing his occupation and respectfully lifting his cap.

"Then teach him that a seaman must look ahead and not astern," said the officer, dryly.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the equally dry response.

"Lay in, lay in, off the yards!" now shouted the lieutenant; "all hands make sail!"

The boatswain's whistle rung sharp and clear as it repeated the call to the deck; and in an instant the yards, save two or three men left on each to assist in loosening the canvass, were deserted, and the sailors descended with activity to the deck.

The yards were now swung round to the wind, and every light sail was spread to woo the gentle breeze that came off shore. Yielding to its influence, with a ripple about her prow as she began to cleave the water and a slight inclination towards the direction opposite from the wind, the graceful yacht slid smoothly over the sea, with a rapid yet scarcely perceptible motion.

Grace stood beneath the awning that covered the quarter-deck, and, as they glided down the bay, watched