As the evening was fine, and the moon full, Commodore Rodney and Pipe the Boatswain arranged to give the party a reception on the Emma and a moonlight sail upon the lake. The sailors had beautifully decorated the ship; fox-fire lanterns gleamed from every part of the forts, and shone all along the shore. Our old friends Captain Ask, Help, Clearview, Mate Angel, Howard, Hope, Rise, Shine, the Twadeils and many others were aboard. The wind was fresh and the lake was a little rough, but that only made matters all the merrier. How the ship did scud along!
It was passing the Point of Ellen's Isle, when suddenly a small vessel pushed out from the brown grasses at the water's edge, crossed the wake of the Emma within a stone's throw, and stood away toward the shore.
"Sophie, Sophie!" cried Faith, "look yonder! Do you know that yacht?"
Sophia glanced a moment at the beautiful vessel as it rose and fell on the waves and sped swiftly through the moonlight.
"It is the Fringe!" she cried. "And there—see! There is Raft the Smuggler. He has raised his hat! He is waving it. Hurrah! hurrah!" Perhaps had she stopped a moment to ask whether or not such conduct were orthodox in a Brownie bride, she would not have done it, but she simply gave way to the impulse of her heart; she plucked her bridal veil from her head and, quite unconscious of what she did, waved it again and again at the fast flying yacht.
The Natties had sprung to their guns at the Fringe's appearance, prepared to pour a broadside into her; but when they saw Sophia's greeting and heard her shout, they took their cue from her, and instead of shot sent cheers after the smuggler and his pretty craft.
The Natties had sprung to their guns at the Fringe's appearance, prepared to pour a broadside into her; but when they saw Sophia's greeting and heard her shout,
they took their cue from her, and instead of shot sent cheers after the smuggler and his pretty craft.
"Poor fellow!" sighed Faith, as she leaned over the rail, and watched Raft's vessel disappear under the shadow of the shore; "poor fellow; what a pity that he should be a Pixie!"