finding that his servant was superior to the general run of sailor lads, allowed her many privileges which she would not have otherwise enjoyed. It was in the delicious month of May, 1794, that they quitted port alone, as an English West India convoy was then expected in the British Channel, and Admiral Villaret Joyeuse had sailed from Brest in the Montagne, of 120 guns, with a large fleet, to intercept them. The captain of La Republicain anticipated a glorious harvest; and there was not a man of the crew who did not consider himself already possessed of a handsome fortune in prize-money. The morning of the 24th broke upon them, but a dense haze hung upon the ocean, so as to prevent the possibility of seeing for a cable's length round the ship; and, the wind being light, they could distinctly hear sounds conveyed by the fog, which indicated the near approximation of several vessels; but whether proceeding from the French fleet, or the expected convoy, was a matter wholly unknown, though eager expectation excited sanguine hopes that it was the latter, and with the true gaiety of Frenchmen, they were calculating the worth of the vessels they intended to capture. The breeze freshened; the sun arose higher in the heavens in gorgeous majesty; the thick vapours were rolled away as a scroll, and a beautiful spectacle was presented to the eye, which, however, was anything but desirable to the heart of the French captain, for the Republicain was in the midst of a noble fleet, composed of twenty-five sail of the line (seven of which were three-deckers), and four or five frigates. At first, on the clearing away of the haze, the commander of the corvette declared the fleet to be that of Monsieur Villaret, and he rejoiced in being able to join him; but a very short time served to rectify the mistake. Up went the English colours on board the strangers, showing no less than seven admirals' flags;-it was the English fleet under Earl Howe. All chance of escape for the Republicain was cut off; her ensign floated for a few minutes in the air, but she was within gun-shot of two seventy-fours, and it was hauled down, never to be re-hoisted. Boats came alongside; the prisoners were divided amongst the fleet; the captain and lieutenants were sent on board the Queen Charlotte; and Jeanette accompanied her master. On the quarter-deck of that noble first-rate* stood the venerable commander-in-chief (then verging upon his seventieth year), with his first captain, Sir Roger Curtis, on his right hand, and his second captain, Sir The Queen Charlotte was launched at Chatham, on the 15th April, 1790; his late Majesty, William IV., then recently created Duke of Clarence, christened her after the name of his royal mother. This fine ship, carrying the flag of Vice-Admiral Lord Keith (red at the fore), caught fire by accident, off Leghorn, March 17th, 1800, and was utterly destroyed, Captain Todd, thirty-six officers, and between 500 and 600 men perishing in the flames. Andrew Snape Douglas, on his left hand, whilst groups of officers were assembled near, to witness the reception which the Republicains, in every sense of the term, would have from His Lordship. Jeanette had beheld many imposing scenes in the men-of-war of her nation; she had been on board Le Terrible and Le Revolutionaire, each of 120 guns, and remarkably handsome ships, but there was an utter want of discipline, both amongst the officers and men; the former were extremely negligent of their persons and dress, and it was at all times difficult to discover the distinctions in rank; the latter were admitted to familiarity with their superiors, and but little care was taken to keep the ships or the people, in that state of cleanliness and subordination which is so conducive to health and proper regulation. But here, in the Queen Charlotte, she beheld at once the most perfect order and etiquette prevailing; and instead of the noise and tumult which, on all occasions, might be heard in French ships, there was a quiet and a tranquillity amongst nearly 1,000 persons that could not fail to strike the mind as something wonderful; whilst the bright and clean appearance of all that was visible, bore a marked contrast to what she had been accustomed to in the French service. The captain of Le Republicain and his lieutenants uncovered their heads as they advanced towards the veteran chief, who received them with much courtesy, removing his hat to their salute, so as to display the grey crown of glory that surmounted his brows; but the French commander, stepping forward before his officers, tucked his three-cornered scraper under his arm, and taking a massive gold snuff box from his waistcoat pocket, tapped upon the lid, which he ostentatiously threw open, and held out to his lordship to take a pinch; and this was done with so much of the grace, or rather grimace, of a petit maitre, as to raise the risibility of the lookers on, but more especially of the honest Jack Tars. But the Frenchman did not stop here; for, in the coolest manner imaginable, he preferred a request to the commander-in-chief to restore him his corvette, remarking that it was "beneath the dignity of so large and gallant a fleet, to capture a little craft which was entirely beneath their notice, whilst so large an armament as the grand fleet was at sea." A smile mantled on the cheeks of the venerable Earl and his supporters, as he declined the proffered snuff and rejected the modest solicitation, but they retired together to the admiral's cabin, and the squadrons having formed into three divisions and under a press of canvas, stood to the westward, but finding, on the following day, that the prizes (for there were several) were an incumbrance to the manœuvres, they were ordered to be burnt, and Le Republicain, notwithstanding the entreaties of her commander, shared the same fate. Poor Jeanette, from the descriptions that had been given to her, expected rough treatment, but she was agreeably surprised to find that every kindness and consideration was shown to her, and the only restriction imposed, was confinement at night with the other prisoners in the hold, till they fell in with the French fleet on the 29th of May. The previous skirmishes to the 1st of June, and the glorious battle on that day, were fought, and terminated successfully for the supremacy of the English flag; seven sail of the French line were taken or destroyed, and more might have been effected had every ship acted with the daring gallantry of the Queen Charlotte, or had a proper judgment and promptitude been manifested to pick up the disabled French ships when flying for shelter to their own ports. During the action, the French prisoners were shut down below, and the pealing of the cannon fearfully shook their nerves. The rattling of broadsides is a terrible thing to listen to whilst the body is inactive and takes no share in the engagement. Nor were they sorry when the firing ceased, though sadly chagrined as to the result. On the 13th of June, Lord Howe, with his prizes, anchored at Spithead, and the captives were sent on shore to prison. Jeanette was separated from her kind master, and finding that she was to be classed with some of the vilest characters that had been collected, to man the French fleet, she disclosed her sex to an Englishwoman, and the authorities being made acquainted with the fact, she was immediately removed from such unpleasant companionship, and, in her proper attire, received into the house of an officer's lady, to whom she related her eventful history, which, on becoming more generally known, excited universal sympathy. A handsome subscription was raised for her, and by the first cartel she quitted England for Bordeaux, where, on her landing, her earliest inquiries were made for the family of Durand. Several of the name were pointed out to her, and it was three days before she gained a right clue to the parents of poor Pierre, who received her joyfully, heard her tale of sorrow, wept over her misfortunes, and would have readily adopted her as their own child. But she had yet another joy in store for her: though of Pierre they could tell her nothing, and mourned for him as one already numbered with the dead, still, in the course of a short time, she had the unutterable delight of being clasped in the embraces of her own father, Monsieur Berghaume, who had, after many hardships and much persecution, recently reached that city, and through the aid of the Durands commenced a mercantile speculation that promised to be successful. It would be utterly impossible to describe the feelings of the father and daughter at being thus reunited; but neither of them forgot the N amiable wife nor the tender mother, till at length Jeanette determined to return to Bruges in the disguise she had worn at sea, to ascertain her parent's fate, at the same time assuming to be deaf and dumb, under the expectation of being better able to escape conversations that might lead to detection. Need it be explained who was the guide of Madame Berghaume to the banks of the Garonne, where, a few hours after their arrival, they were joined by a husband and a father. The toils, the pains, the anguish of the past were forgotten, or only remembered to heighten present enjoyment. [It was expected that this tale would close with the present number, but it has been found impossible to do so without destroying many of the incidents; the conclusion, however, will positively be given in our next. -The O. S.] TO MARY. "I have a passion for the name of Mary."-BYRON. The day is waning fast, The sun, in splendour drest, A glory round has cast His temple in the west; But though the sun decline, My Mary. Now comes the twilight hour, Soft stealing o'er the east, And in our leafy bower The darkness has increas'd; Yet still bright rays I see, The radiance of thine eyes. The daylight faster fades, The sky is all serene, And deeper, heavier shades Are dark'ning o'er the scene; But though no light illume The shadows of the whole, There's brightness midst the gloom, The brightness of thy soul. My Mary. A CHAPTER ON BUCCANEERING. "You are a vagabond, and no true traveller; you are more saucy with lords and honourable personages than the heraldry of your birth and virtues gives you com mission."-SHAKSPERE. origin of Buccaneering, and Certain it is, that the attain VARIOUS accounts have been given of the from whence the practice derived its name. ment of Spanish gold was the object; and even the crowned heads of England thought it no degradation to be a sort of sleeping partners in the concern. The history of the Buccaneers presents one of the most astonishing instances of daring, intrepid, and reckless men, forming themselves into a community of plunderers, and, though outraging all laws, as it respected others, yet themselves submitting to strict regulations, and binding themselves to be obedient to command. The discovery of a new world of wealth by Columbus and his successors, quickly seated the Spanish colonies on both sides of the vast continent of America, whose principal object was to grasp the precious metals which were found in abundance within the bowels of the earth. Here, then, was opened a lucrative market for the sale of negroes from Africa, who were condemned for the remainder of their existence to toil in the mines, which they were never allowed to quit, and for whom the sun shone uselessly in the heavens, for they never, after descending to their dreary tombs, saw his cheering smile diffusing joy and comfort over the face of creation, or felt the warmth of his soul-delighting beams. Avarice and cruelty went hand in hand; the living were cut off from the rest of the world; and, whilst human sympathies and human feelings still glowed in their breasts, they were dead and buried to all beyond their sphere of unmitigated misery. Nor were negroes alone consigned to these sepulchres of hope, for they became a means of punishment for political offencesa Siberia of endless, chilling desolation. Talk of the severe code of British Laws!—what can exceed the horrible endurance of a lingering life, cut off from all social intercourse, and even from the light of day— the frame wasting away with pain, disease, and the sickness arising from hope deferred-the mind still strong to suffering, though gradually sinking into the last depth of despair-the emaciated breast heaving to the convulsive throes of a breaking heart. This is no imaginary picture-I have seen it at the gold mines of San Paulo, in Brazil—and it is not many years since, that the boundaries of that mining district might be traced by the perishing remains of human skeletons bleaching in the sun, and wind, and rain. There is but little |