If there be men who can smile at the grief of a family for the loss of an animal who has been long endeared to them by service and association, be assured that their hearts are not in the right place; and that they are individuals who would exhibit a like callousness to the loss of human friends.
THE CONTRABANDISTA.
A TALE OF THE PACIFIC COAST.
Night was setting in—a clear, starlight night—as a small armed brig was working her way into a little bay upon the western coast of Mexico. She was a trim-built craft, and not too deeply laden to conceal the symmetry of her dark and exquisitely-modelled hull. The cleanness of her run, the elegance of her lines, the rake of her slender masts, and the cut of her sails, showed her, at a glance, to be a Baltimore-built clipper—at the time of which we speak—some years ago—the fastest thing upon the ocean. She was working to windward against a light breeze, and hence was unable to exhibit any thing of her qualities, though a seaman's eye would have decided at a glance that she could sail like a witch. The Zanthe, for that was the name inscribed in gilt letters on her stern and sideboards, might have been a dangerous customer in a brush, for her armament consisted of ten brass eighteens, and her crew of sixty picked seamen—an abundance of men to work the brig, and serve her batteries with satisfaction and credit.
Not to keep the reader any longer in suspense with regard to her character and purpose, we will inform him that the Zanthe was a smuggler, and for some years had been engaged in the illegal game of defrauding the revenue of the Mexican republic. She was commanded by a Scotchman named Morris, and her first mate was a Yankee, answering to the hail of Pardon G. Simpkins, as gallant a fellow and as good a seaman as ever trod a plank. It was her custom to land contraband goods at different points upon the coast where lighters were kept concealed, and where the merchandise was taken charge of by the shore-gang, a numerous and well-appointed body of picked men, mounted and armed to the teeth, and provided with a large number of mules for transporting the goods into the interior. The merchandise, lightered off from the brig, was hidden in the chaparral, if it came on shore before the mule trains were ready, and it was piled up with combustibles, in such a manner that, should the vigilantes surprise them in sufficient numbers to effect a seizure, and overcome resistance, a match thrown among the booty secured its destruction in a few moments. A smoke by day and a fire by night, upon the shore, was the signal for the brig to approach and come to anchor.
The Zanthe, as we before said, slowly worked her way to her anchorage. One by one, her white sails, on which the last flush of the sunset fires had just faded, were all furled, and, her anchors dropped, she swung round with the tide, and rode in safety. A Bengola light was displayed for a moment from the foretop, and answered by another from the shore.
"All right, cap'n," said the mate, walking aft to where Morris was standing, near the wheel. "The critters have seen us, and that are firework means that there aint no vigilantes round abeout. I spose we shall hev the lighters along side airly in the mornin'."
"Yes," said the captain. "I wonder whether Don Martinez is with the shore gang."