Mr Hardsett was not long in replying to her interrogations, and in giving her an outline of the tragical events which had occurred, while the ladies, trembling with pity and emotion, listened to the painful narrative.
“Are you the only officer then of the frigate that is left?”
“No, madam,” replied the boatswain, “the third-lieutenant is here; but there he lies, poor fellow, desperately wounded by these men, from whom we expected to have had relief.”
“What was the name of your frigate?”
“The Aspasia, Captain M—.”
“O heaven!” cried the girl, catching at the collar of the boatswain’s coat in her trepidation.
“And the wounded officer’s name?”
“Seymour.”
A cry of anguish and horror escaped from all the party as the beautiful interrogatress tottered in her seat, and then fell off into the arms of the boatswain.
In a few seconds, recovering herself, she regained her feet. “Quick, quick—lead me to him.”