As we were on our way from the Spanish hotel to the boat, on this joyous morning, a young Moor, of very exquisite and dandified appearance, addressed us; he was clothed in fine, white flannel, and wore a very tasty scarlet turban, trimmed out with silver, and tasselled with gold; he walked first on one side of us and then on the other, with a mincing gait, and at length addressed my husband in Italian. He said he understood him to be the captain of the great English ship in the bay, that was laden with dollars, and as he wanted money very much, he would be greatly obliged to him for some of them. This request sounded so comically innocent, that I could not restrain my inclination to laugh. My husband was in a more serious mood, but even he could not altogether resist the winning smile with which the petition was proferred. He therefore answered, that he should have been very happy to be able to accommodate him, but that his own considerate countrymen had already taken away from the ship everything but the masts and anchors, and he must, therefore, postpone the consideration of his request until he was himself richer. The young dandy appeared to be thoroughly satisfied with this explanation, and bowed, and smiled graciously to us, as he moved away.

On the same day with our return to the ship, a French brig-of-war came into the bay, to complain of several acts of molestation that vessels of their nation had suffered from Salee rovers. At the very time the French officers were going on shore, my husband and his mate were landing, with the purpose of lodging an information at the French consul's against his highness the Algerine admiral, for having stopped the Perseverance under French colours. Immediately on our arrival at Tangier, he had forwarded letters to Grazia Dio Minerbe, of Trieste, the owner of the Austrian vessel; and he had also written to the government authorities of that port, as well as to the Austrian captain's family.

Those of our men who had been detained on board the Moorish schooner were restored to their own ship as soon as they arrived in the bay of Tangier. They were not a little rejoiced at the change, for they found their fare, in the close, dirty hold of the schooner, a very different thing to their shore living at Salee. They had there neither fresh fish, dates, grapes, nor peaches, their ordinary diet upon land; but they were now, however, persons of great importance in the eyes of their messmates, and had very astonishing and amusing yarns to spin. They fully accounted for the slow pas

sage the schooner had made from Salce; for they stated, that as soon as a breeze of wind touched her sails, her anchor went down, that she might wait for better weather; she had crept along close in shore all the way, and once had positively returned to Salee. During the voyage, she fell in with a British sloop-of-war, on surveying service; the officers had immediately boarded her, to ask what the Moors were up to with the little Irish craft. The answer was, that they were taking her to the British consul at Tangier, because she was without a Mediterranean pass. This account did not satisfy the officers, and they insisted upon seeing the Irish captain, that they might hear his account. The poor fellow was brought to them, but his energies had been so crushed by suffering and fear, that when they inquired whether he stood in need of any of their assistance, he answered unhesitatingly, "he did not." When again interrogated as to whether he was suf fering any restraint, he again said, "he was not." Nothing further could, therefore, be done for him, and the British cruizer had reluctantly allowed the Moors to continue their course. While this conversation was passing on deck, our four men and the three Irishmen were in confinement below, Moors standing over them with drawn sabres, to compel their silence. There is no doubt that the captive on deck had by some means been impressed with the part they expected him to take, and had had his fears so played upon, that he dared not depart from his instructions. The result showed that the Moors had not been mistaken in the character of the poor fellow they were dealing with; their craft had for this time at least been equal to the occasion.

It had often been matter of considerable surprise to us that Allan Ruberice had kept the secret of our having money and watches in our possession; this matter was no longer to to remain an unsolved enigma. Before we left Tangier, he came on board, under the pretence of wishing to take leave of us, but really to claim the bribe we had offered him in the first week of our captivity. He said the reward was promised him on condition that he should bring the brig to Tangier, and as he had now fulfilled his part of the bargain, we must also fulfil ours. The prompt refusal he met enraged him excessively, and he took his departure, vowing vengeance in every possible Moorish form.

Our Irish companion in misfortune now came to tender us his thanks, and to take his farewell of us. His expressions of gratitude were as boundless as they were extravagant;

the tears once again coursed down his cheeks. My husband went on board his sloop with him, to see what the Moors had done with it; he found it a complete wreck-leaking, and plundered of everything moveable. He therefore counselled that she should be taken across to Gibraltar, and that a survey should there be called, to determine whether it would be best to condemn her as unworthy, or to refit her for the voyage homewards. The Hibernian gladly followed this judicious advice, and soon after hove up his anchor. We had the satisfaction of seeing him glide out of the bay towards the shore of liberty. The wind soon failed him, but we knew that the current would, nevertheless, carry him into Gibraltar, even before we had time to get under weigh. I shrewdly suspected that if the simple-hearted Paddy once more found himself safe at Cove, he would never again venture out of sight of Irish shores.

We found that the worshipful company of rovers had plundered us of every moveable object they could by any means appropriate; they had also either used or destroyed every vestige of the ship's stores. We were going to Seville light, being chartered for a cargo there; so that fortunately there was no merchandize on board for them. It was the general opinion in Tangier, that if the British government made a claim for compensation for the ship's unlawful detention, and for the loss of property entailed by her plunder, even though the claim were not acceded to, the commander of the gun-brig who had taken us would be punished with the loss of his head. Success or failure, in Barbary, makes any action right or wrong; and deeds that are rewarded with honours when they issue well, are attended by disgrace and death, when they lead to unpleasant consequences. In Moorish despotism, heads are generally considered as the most convenient kind of palliation that can be offered to conciliate offended potentates. If one does not seem to be sufficient to prove that the emperor has no wish to assume the responsibilities of his subordinates, a dozen are sacrificed, as a matter of course; there is no measure to the amount of compensation that is readily given, when the account is allowed to be settled by human life.

As soon as we had laid in sufficient stores to last us to Seville, we went to Mr. Douglas, to thank him for his kind and prompt attentions. We were keenly sensible, that but for his bold and resolute conduct, even our hoard of gold might have failed at last in restoring us to freedom. We chanced to name, during the interview, that my husband had again suffered a paroxysm of ague on the first night we slept

on board the brig, the consequence was, that when we returned to our boat, we found a present awaiting us of a packet of bark, and halfa-dozen of old Port wine. Words would ill express the gratitude I felt for this last touching proof of our good friend's consideration; I am sure that he found in his sense of well-performed duty a rich and ample reward for all that he had done.

In the evening, our anchor was hove a-peak, in expectation of the land-breeze; but we were becalmed throughout the night. We were lying within a quarter of a mile of the French brig-of-war; but the expression of Allan Ruberice's face, as he passed over the ship's side, had been so full of sinister meaning, that it was deemed prudent to keep the entire ship's company alert and on deck until daybreak. Our men accordingly paced backwards and forwards in the calm summer's moonlight, re-spinning old yarns, the captain every now and then visiting them, to make sure of their watchfulness. Just before sunrise, the breeze of our desire came, the ship gathered way before it, and when the orb of day rose into sight, we were making good speed for the Guadalquiver.

In a few hours we were at St. Lucar, but we found that our troubles were by no means ended by our return to a civilized land. It would be foreign to the direct object of my narrative to record all we had yet to suffer. We were detained for a quarantine of twenty days at Bouanza, on account of coming from an African port; in the Guadalquiver, four other days were added to the detention, because an epidemic had broken out at Gibraltar; at the end of these, we were ordered to return immediately to sea, without holding any communication with the land. To have done this in the state in which we were would have been to have rushed upon starvation, for we were literally without the necessities of life; my husband, therefore, simply answered that he could not, and would not go. During the four succeeding days, soldiers were sent to enforce the order of departure; my husband's reply was to point his loaded cannons at the boat that contained the armed men, and to advise them not to undertake a task that would prove to be beyond their strength. On the fifth day, his obstinacy seemed to have gained the victory, for the boat then came to us from the quarantine guard-ship, with a flag of truce and a pass, authorising us to go where we pleased. My husband immediately proceeded to Seville, some miles higher up the river, to claim his cargo from the merchant; but, alas! the cargo had been already shipped some weeks in another

vessel, on account of the Perseverance not presenting itself at the expected time. After some delay, the captain accepted another freight, consisting of wool, for London, and began to load at the Garden of Olives. During the lading, the rain came down, and the wool was damaged, and the owner forthwith instituted an action for the recovery of the amount of damage, in one of the courts of Seville. After nine days spent in law proceedings, the cause was turned over to arbitration, and it was decided that the amount demanded should be deducted from the freight payable in London. We then dropped down to St. Lucar, took in our sea-pilot, and in a few hours were once more on the open ocean, homeward-bound.

Our passage to England was a tedious and a stormy one; for three weary weeks we were beaten about in heavy seas and adverse winds, at the entrance of the channel, and during this time we were short of water, short of provisions, short of fuel, short of patience, short of everything, in fact, excepting salt water, of which we had more than enough. At last we made Dartmouth, recruited there for four days, while waiting for a change of wind, and then finally ran for the Thames.

During our short stay at Dartmouth, the dreadful intermitting fever again attacked my husband; it came with a severe paroxysm of spasm, apparently the immediate result of sleeping in the damp bed of an inn. In consequence of this fresh accession of illness, the captain remained on ship-board until the vessel was cleared at the Wool Quay in London; then a broom was hoisted at the mast-head, and a negotiation was opened for the sale of the ship. In a few days the bargain was concluded, and the money paid; the Perseverance passed into other hands, and I saw her debilitated and invalided master carried on shore from the berth that was no longer his own. At the time, it seemed to me that we were taking leave of a vessel that had been cursed to us by some disastrous spell. Afterwards, when my dear husband was once more restored to health and strength, I was able to look back upon the past with different feelings; I then saw that, however great our trials and sufferings might have been, the mercies bestowed with them had vastly exceeded them in amount. We had been surrounded by the dangers of the mighty deep, but had been carried in safety through them; enemies had hemmed us in, yet no hair of our heads had been hurt; famine and sickness had grievously assailed us, yet, when the jaws of the grave

seemed to be opening before us, we had been snatched from the brink of the yawning cavern, and healed in the hour of our greatest need. And, more than this, we had been led into temptation, but not left there; impulse and casuisty had urged us to take upon ourselves the sin of bloodshed, but even at the last moment our hands had been stayed from the dreadful deed, and our memories saved from the heart-rending remorse that must have followed. In a worldly sense, our Algerine captivity and voyage to Seville had been fraught with loss and disappointment; but, in a spiritual sense, they were profitable and blest to us-they had taught us experimentally that "affliction cometh not forth of the dust," and that "trouble springeth not out of the ground." We had gone forth in the pride of our strength, and with stubborn hearts, but had fallen among barbarians and heathens, and had returned from their companionship humbled and chastened. We had been shown, by adversity, that there is a happiness apart from worldly prosperity, which grows stronger and deeper, in proportion as the more evanescent joys of life reveal their shadowy and uncertain character. We had proved, in our own experience, that good comes out of evil, and that, therefore, patience and long suffering are never without their ultimate reward.

In concluding the above narrative of an incident of real life, it may be as well to state, in explanation of the proceedings of the Algerine pirates, that, previously to the beginning of the sixteenth century, the lawless horde of Arabs, inhabiting the northern Atlantic coast of Africa, had been in the habit of plundering indiscriminately the trading ships of all mercantile nations. About this time, however, their depredations became so troublesome, that the mistress of the seas was induced to expostulate in rather high and earnest tones. A formal demand was made of the Emperor of Morocco, that the merchant ships of England should be allowed free and uninterrupted ingress to the Mediterranean, then one of the great emporia of its commerce. His swarthy highness did not deem it prudent to demur to this demand, and, accordingly, a treaty was entered into, by virtue of which it was arranged that British ships bound to the Mediterranean should take a safe-conduct with them, which should suffice to secure civil treatment at the hands of the subjects of Morocco. For this safe-conduct it was agreed that the owners of the vessel should pay a small tribute, amounting to a few shillings. The document was

made out on parchment, and embellished with an ornamental figure of Britannia, and in this guise was distinguished by the appellation of "The Mediterrancan Pass."

As years rolled on, the Moorish treaty continued in force, and by degrees its provisions became matters of custom; so that the "Mediterranean pass" remained one of the ordinary papers all ships provided themselves with when about to enter the great inland sea. The Moorish cruizers were allowed from time to time to board such vessels, and ask for a sight of their pass; but they had no right to institute any other kind of examination into their papers; neither was it in any way lawful for them to demand a pass of vessels bound only to the outer Atlantic ports.

Upon the shadowy pretext of this almost obsolete treaty, three centuries and a half old, Algerine piracy has managed to drag on a precarious existence even to the present day. From time to time, ships have been fitted out, in the remote port of Salee, by lawless adventurers, whose policy it has been to interest the Moorish authorities in their occupation, by yielding to them the lion's share of the booty, after each successful expedition, taking in return only the name of servants of the emperor. Whenever cruizers of this nature fell in with the armed vessels of civilized nations, they were invariably found under Moorish colours, engaged in the harmless and peaceful work of asking for a sight of the Mediterranean pass; but when, on the other hand, they chanced to pounce upon prey of inferior strength, false colours appeared, as in the rencontre with the Perseverance, and, under the pretext of some informality in the papers submitted to their inspection, they carried off their victims to Salee, and retained them there in secrecy, until they had ascertained whether any inconvenient inquiries after them were likely to be made. If all seemed to promise well, after a sufficient time the vessels and cargoes were appropriated, and the crew carried up into the country, and there detained, upon the chance of extracting ransom for them at some future time. Every now and then it has chanced that the buccaneers have caught Tartars, and have paid heavily for their temerity. They have, upon such occasions, been quiet for a time; but after an interval of repose, they have again appeared in the open seas, when least expected, and recommenced their predacious work. In the affair with the Perseverance, they were very near meeting the chastisement they merited. In consequence of the representations of Mr. Douglas to the Foreign

office, four ships of war were sent out to Tangier, to demand compensation for the plunder and detention of the British ship; the Algerine port was blockaded; but, soon after the commencement of the blockade, a severe epidemic broke out at Gibraltar, and the ships were withdrawn, to procure supplies for the rock fortress, and there the matter ended. Some time afterwards, the owner and captain of the Perseverance had an interview with Sir G. Murray, then secretary for foreign affairs; but the interview only led to an expression of regret that nothing further could be done.

Something, however, was done, in one sense, the sympathising reader will be glad to know. In consequence of the generous Englishman's letter to Trieste, the poor Austrian captive was demanded and restored to his friends, and soon after an Austrian squadron presented itself at Rabat, and bombarded the nest of the piratical horde. The three principal Moorish ships that were in the anchoring-ground at the time of the bombardment were entirely destroyed.

In the Morning Advertiser of February 2, 1830, the following paragraph appeared:"On the 27th of October last, a bottle was picked up at Bottle Creek, Grand Caicos, latititude 21° 20', N., longitude 71° 20′, W., which was found to contain the following note: "

August 1, 1828.-Should this be picked up by any one, I beg they will make known, as soon as possible, that the English brig, Perseverance, is taken by a brig of 10 guns and 150 men, apparently Turks, and carried into Salee. Taken off Cape Finisterre on the 26th of July, 1828. I have my wife on board.-Brig Perseverance, W. S, Master.

It will be at once perceived that this was the document spoken of in the first part of the narrative, as being thrown overboard from the bows in a cask, the night after the purpose of the Moors to take their captives to Salee was discovered. The cask was launched into the Atlantic, near the latitude of Cape St. Vincent. It must have thence been carried southwards, to the neighbourhood of the Canary Islands (for such is the well-known direction of the ocean's drift); there it must have become involved in the northern edge of the great equatorial current of the Atlantic, which the earth's rotation causes to set into the Gulf of Mexico, between San Domingo and the main land of South America. The Grand Caicos bank, where the bottle was stranded, after a voyage of nearly fifteen months, is just north of San Domingo. It is worthy of remark, that Humboldt has given an estimate that the equatorial current of the Atlantic would drift a floating body from the Canary Isles to the Caracas in thirteen months. R. J. M.