and dined.

After dinner I saun

tered along the pier-always a pleasant and romantic entertainment for one given to ruminating -and then hailed the yacht. In a few moments I heard the faint plash of the oars, and presently could make out the dark outline of the boat as it drew near. It was pulled by the smart boy, as the men were ashore, and it was not yet time for them to return.

I sat upon deck, smoking and looking round at the lights twinkling at the bows of many vessels around me, at the glare of the lighthouse-always a picturesque object-at the amphitheatre of lines of yellow light, that rose in semicircles on shore, giving the idea of cardboard pricked with a pin. I was sitting on a little camp-stool close to the skylight, when I absently looked through the glass into the cabin, which was lit up, and, to my amazement, saw-yes, saw a woman lying asleep, as it seemed to me, on one of the sofas.

I was almost speechless with indignation. These were the new, steady men, who had brought such characters from their last employer. Here was the wife or sweetheart of one of these fellows; and I remembered now how anxious they had been that I should stop at this place, which they knew well. Much put out-for at this time I had grown nervous and irritable-I called the boy.

'Where is Pile and the others?' (Jim Pile' was the name of the skipper.)

At the "Blue Jacket," sir, on the pier.'

'Get the boat.'

I was pulled ashore again, fuming. The 'Blue Jacket' was exactly opposite the landing-stairs. I sent in for the men.

'I want you on board at once,' I said. 'I am greatly displeased.' 'Sorry, sir,' said Jim Pile, who

had an off-hand way with him. 'What have we done agin rule, sir?'

'I'll tell you when we are on deck.'

They rowed away silently. When we were on deck I said to them, in rather a fretful way,

'I tell you this will not do. I have been ordered quiet. If I have only got a yacht to be exposed to this sort of worry, I had better go back at once. It is intolerable.'

'What have we done agin the rules, sir?' again asked Jim Pile. 'Look down there. Who has Idared to do this?'

I looked down myself, as they did. The woman had gone. She had got away in some boat of the harbour.

'Very clever.' I went on. 'But I shall be a match for these tricks another time. And now take this warning from me. If it happens again, or anything like it, you will leave me on the instant.'

'God bless us, sir!' said Jim Pile, with some impatience, 'what have the men done? If it were only having a glass at the Blue Jacket

'Leave it so,' I said. 'I am content to pass it over for this time. That will do. Go forward now.'

They went away, with a bewildered air. It was very cunning of the woman to have got away so quickly. However, we were to sail in the morning, and the wife, or sweetheart, or whatever she was, would find herself, in vulgar parlance, 'sold.'

III.

THE STORM.

We sailed along all the next day; and a pretty stiff breeze getting up, the 'Banshee' began to show that she was an excellent sea-boat. We

were all satisfied with her, and she was pronounced 'to get along like a spanker-high nautical praise. During the day I was sitting below in the saloon-an apartment which I could not relish, it was so depressing from its gloom and melancholy. To amuse myself I called in the boy, and we both began to set things in order, clearing out old lockers, which we found filled with empty bottles and the usual odds and ends which accumulate in a yacht. There were empty match-boxes, old pipes, account-books, and a number of torn-up papers, and an old letter or two, also torn up.

Some words on a fragment of these caught my eye. They were: 'I will not trust myself to you alone. You know I am in terror of my life of you. I believe if you got me on board with you, I should not get ashore alive.'

These were strange words, and I pored over them long. To them was assuredly attached some history, but too intelligible, associated with the owner or with one of his guests. The owner, to a certainty; it could be all read in his rough bearing, and, what I was certain of, his almost infernal temper, which, with me, could scarcely be kept within bounds. But then the lady who was with him had scarcely the air of being in 'terror of her life.' She was, indeed, rather confident; and it might be suspected that within her eyes was lurking a devil as violent as his. I speculated long over this.

We were now coasting, and the enchantment of this mode of life began to grow more and more on me. It seemed the highest form of lotos-eating. There was an entertainment in seeing the shore unwind slowly, as though it were a diorama, new and newer objects coming on in front, as others disappeared behind. That headland

had such a name- that village was so called-and there was the light. The entering a little port, with its small harbour, lighthouse, and. tiny amphitheatre of houses, is like the discovery of a new country.

That day wore on, and evening began to close. We saw the light of the port we intended to stop at twinkling afar off. By ten o'clock

we had dropped anchor. Jim Pile and his men came for leave to go ashore, which was granted, with a wholesome caution. I could not help asking the question, had they any friends or relations at⚫ this place. They declared that not one of them had been there before. Good. Then they must be sober, steady, and be back before twelve o'clock.

I was not going ashore myself, but remained on deck, looking on at that pretty night scene. It was a fishing port. The lights were twinkling on shore, and twinkling the more as seen through the dark rigging of the fishing-boats, huddled together as fishing-boats always

are.

The hours passed away—it came to eleven-to half-past-and then I heard the slow plash of oars. The men were returning punctually. As I stood up to take a few paces up and down-for it had grown chilly-I glanced carelessly down through the skylight, and thought I saw somethingsome one below. I looked again. Yes there was a woman lying on the sofa. I looked at her steadily, so that I should know her again. She was asleep, and was in a white dress, with a heavy Indian shawl wrapped up about her.

The men were now alongside. For the moment I did not think of the improbability of their having brought a person thus dressed on board; but as soon as they were on deck I said to Jim Pile:

'You seemed to think I was unjust in reprimanding you all

yesterday. Come down with me to the cabin. Look there,' I added as I entered.

The woman was gone! I passed hurriedly through the forecastle; tried the ladies' cabin-the pantry -the skipper's. She was not there -not in the vessel at all.

Then it all flashed upon me. I felt a cold, creeping chill coming over me, and caught at the table for support.

Jim Pile and the men were at the door waiting, and wondering. I had presence of mind to falter out a clumsy excuse: 'I had thought that they had not " settled up" the place. I wasn't very well that night. Let all go on deck at once.' They went away. Jim Pile with curious, wondering looks.

When they were gone, the cabin had quite another aspect. Each little door seemed as though it was about to open as though there was something behind it which would issue forth.

I shrank in terror from the place and hurried on deck. It was a fresh and clear night, with a strong breeze blowing. I called Jim Pile aft.

A sigh of relief as I saw that the lonely room was vacant; yet I fancied that the cushions of the sofa showed a dent, as though some one had just been leaning on them.

An overpowering desire had taken possession of me. I must search-search carefully and earnestly-for I had conviction that something connected with it would be found.

I turned up the leather cushions hastily, and dragged up the lid of the locker underneath. There was nothing but old boxes, and such debris as I had found there before. I made this search fearfully, looking round as though I expected that each quivering shadow behind me would presently take shape as that ghostly figure.

As I replaced the board, and the cushion on the board, I saw something, buried, as it were, in the corner of the sofa. I drew it out: it was black, and squeezed up like a pocket-handkerchief. It was stiff and dried, and in spreading it I saw that it was a little black lace and straw lady's hat, which had evidently been saturated with sea-water, and had grown dry in that corner. I was not usually an observer of trifles,

we are snug

enough where we are.'

'I must go on to-night,' I said. 'I suppose you don't want me to sit up here on deck all night.'

This strange speech was more directed to my own thoughts, for I knew that I dared not go down to the cabin, and I was ashamed to go ashore again.

The men were a little sulky at this sudden change. The mainsail was hauled up, the anchor raised, and we stood out for sea. I stood there long, and then taking a sudden resolution, went downstairs again into the cabin.

like, but it seemed familiar, and to be exactly the same as I had seen with the reclining figure.

IV.

HOW I DISPOSED OF THE 'BANSHEE.' Meanwhile the Banshee' had begun to creak and strain, and even plunge. I could hear the wind whistling, the noise of the waves, and the cries of the sailors calling to one another. I came upon deck. The great mainsail was being got down, and was flapping and tumbling on the

That night was to be well known in the dismal annals of coast casualties. The winds whistled; the waves rose to the height of great hills; the Banshee' was flung and tossed about like a cork. Great seas came and broke over us, sweeping our little deck, that seemed no bigger than a small tray, from end to end. What with the joint roaring of the winds and sea, I had never known such a terrible scene of chaos before; yet, still it had not such terrors for me as what I had seen below.

It was very dark. There was no moon or stars, and yet the white and grey of the waves furnished a sort of dull, leaden light, that came and went. Just as we rose on one tremendous wave, I chanced to glance down through the skylight, and then, once more I caught a glimpse of the ghostly figure reclining on the sofa. I had not time to look, for the sea came, and struck us violently, submerging us all, ship and men.

I caught at the shrouds, and thought at the moment that it was all over; but as the boat righted, I distinctly saw, in that confusion, a white figure emerge from the deck, stand beside me a moment, and then be swept from the deck into the boiling waters with a loud cry!

*

The following day the 'Banshee,' all torn and bruised, was lying in a small harbour, which she had reached providentially. I went

VOL. XXIII.-NO. CXXXIII.

ashore, and took the railway to Southampton, which I reached that very night. I there made certain inquiries about Mr. Stephen Blackwood, and after a day or two, learned that he had married a young wife, with whom he had expected to receive a great deal of money, but had been disappointed owing to the failure of her father, who had been a merchant. They had not lived very happily together, especially since he had made the acquaintance of the French lady, to whom he was now married.

He had been passionately fond of yachting, and used to force his wife to go with him on his first Voyages. But he was once caught in a storm off the coast of France, and a sea had swept her overboard. At least, she had been seen standing beside him during the gale, though the men had warned him that she ought to go below; and in a moment or two she was gone.

With some scruples I offered theBanshee' for sale, meaning,. however, to act the part of an honest vendor, and trusting to find some careless purchaser who would laugh at such scruples. But, strange to say, I cannot find a buyer of any sort. The Banshee' was for sale, and is still for sale. So that if any of our nautical readers should

I ought to mention, at the close of this narrative, that no one 'pooh-poohed' the whole so much as my friendly physician, Sir Duncan. He said, and says still, it was all morbid; that I had been overworked at the time-the nerves unstrung-and that, probably, the late owner was a decent, respectable man, as innocent as any of those children unborn, whose future interests Sir Duncan often took care of.