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{Entered according to Act of Congress in the Clerk’s Office of the
District Court of Massachusetts. ]
PH DANCING SPAR:
—oR,—
The Smnggler of the Chesapeake,
A STORY OF THE COAST AND SEA.
BY J. H. INGRAHAM.
[conciupEp.]
CHAPTER XI.
TIIE SCHOONER AND THE CIIASE.
THE storm which had proved so fatal off the Capes
of the Chesapeake, and in which the schooner and cut-
ter were well nigh lost, with the brig that had gone
ashore, had also swept over the land, and been felt at
York with no little severity. Trees were torn up by
their roots, chimneys blown down, haystacks dispersed,
and no little damage done to the small craft at the
wharves.
The mind of Blouster was far from being at ease as
he heard the roar of the winds about the Binnacle, and
the loud dashing of the waves as they broke over his
wharf, and even swelled up to the foundation of his
dwelling.. He was absent-minded, and so engrossed
with his thoughts that when brandy was asked for he
would pour out water, and when a cigar was desired
would hand the whiskey bottle. This unusual conduct
drew many eyes upon him, and more than one of his
old customers sympathizingly asked if he were sick.
«QO, wax!” ejaculated Jonny, the little cobbler, to
his friend Sammy, the little tailor, “the cap’n looks as
if he was in likkor, don’t he, Sammy ?”
“O, scissors | don’t he, tho’ +. Let’s go and talk to
hun on the eyils of intemperance.”
DEATH-BED OF BEACHAMPE,
worthies, rising to their feet as well as they could—for
they were tolerably blue, it being after nine o’clock—
reeled towards the tap. Here one laid a hand on one
shoulder of Blouster, and the other a hand on the other
shoulder, and both looking him in the face, hiccuped
together as follows :
“<Q, Blou-Blouster, you shouldn't get drunk!
O, Blou-Blouster, you shouldn’t get drunk!”
At this moment the sweeping rush of the blast made
the four corners of the Binnacle shake; and Captain
Ned ripped out an oath that made them both start back
with. consternation and hold their tongues; in which
state of silence they resumed their seats and their drink-
ing mugs, both of which had the handles broken off,
for when by accident Johnny broke his, Sammy smashed
his ; and they carried their love of being like each other
so far as to drink sip for sip, and finish their ale with
the same last swallow.
The decayed gentleman, also, could not but regard
his host with some surprise, as he saw how differently
he acted from his wont; but he was too polite to do
more than say in a quiet way, as he asked for his glass:
“T trust, sir, you are not seriously indisposed ?””
“ Quite well, sir, but something on my mind, sir,”
answered Ned; “thinking of the poor sailors makes a
man sad.”
“So it ought, Captain Blouster. It is a terrible
night to be at sea.”
“T say, cap’n,” said Tim Wivil, shuffling up, “you
don’t look ’mazin’ well, if I may speak my mind ;
sposen you goes to bed, and let me keep tap. I'll do it
capital, and honor bright! I wont likker till I’ve got
through and doused the glim.”
“Well, Tim, if you are sober.”
“Sober, cap’n,” repeated our friend, straightening
up and looking Blouster in the eye as straight as he
could; “look at me! Look at me good! Look mein
the eye and see if ’m drunk. Do you sce any likkor
in my eye, boy ?”
“No, but plenty o’ water, Tim.”
“Water? If there’s enny water in ’em, I’m blamed
if I know how it got there; 1 aint tasted no water, ’xcept
when it rained in my mouth one night L slept with my
“ Don’t we, tho’ ?” responded his friend ; and the two | mouth open ahind the boord pile. Since then I haint
(See page 374.]
tasted a drop o’ water; and that was three years; ago
last fourth o’ July night; I'l never forget. it. If you
see water in my eyes and didn’t put it there, that’s proof
a man’s sober, when his likkor turns to water and runs
out 0’ his eyes.”
“ Well, Tim, take the tap, and see that you keep so-
ber, if you are now,” answered Blouster. He then left
the tap-room and hastened up stairs to a corner room
that by day commanded a view of the bay. ‘He was in
no little alarm. He feared that the schooner would be
lost, and he had no insurance on her, and he had not
the utmost confidence in Nevil’s seamanship. He threw
up a window. All was pitch dark without, and as he
listened, the roar of the wind and the waves was terrible
to the ear. He could hardly stand by the window.
“This is a Cape Worn gale. The schooner will go
ashore whether inside or, outside of the Capes, if Bea-
champe has not had the sense to make a harbor before
the blow came on.”
After he had closed the tap he did not go to bed, but
was watching and listening to the storm till after mid-
night—its long continuance only increasing. his appre-
hensions. At length, when the morning came, and
showed him half a score of small river craft, sloops and
bum-boats stranded upon the shore, he made up his
mind that he should hear no more, or very bad news, of
the Dancing Star. ‘During the day, after the blue sky
again appeared, he was to be seen upon the top of the
ouse, where was a little cupola, or lookout, with his
ship’s spy-glass to his eye, closely examining the bay
towards the southeast. :
The York policeman was the only one of those who
beheld Blouster thus engaged who divined his object ;
and this worthy shook his head wisely and mysterious-
ly, if any one by chance happened to remark that one
would think that old Ned Blouster was expecting a
ship from India, the way he kept on the lookont. About
ten o’clock in the forenoon the citizens were not a little
moved by a report brought by a tishing boat, that about
daylight that morning a large ship had gone ashore
about seven miles up the bay on that part of the coast
nearly opposite the old mill-fort.. Blouster was now
contident that if a ship could not stand out the gale, the
Dancing Star must have been lost.
“ Did you find out the name of the ship?” he anx-
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