The Fate of the Falcon.
Sir, I thank you—
My heart is full of thanks to you.
The Dream.
John. Surrender, sirs.
Isaac. Never; we die first.
Old Play.
Full many a fathom deep they rushed
Down - down the dark abyss.
Ballad.
Mr Durocher, with the vivacity and warm-heartedness of a Frenchman, embraced young Coe, calling him his preserver, and overwhelming him with thanks.
“Thank only God, my dear sir,” replied the deliverer. “I am not doing even all my duty. How many lives may be lost on deck while I am delaying here! Mr Bowsprit,” he continued, addressing that individual, “bind the hands of your prisoners at once, and then come, with your men, upon deck with me.”
Through the open door of the state-room he could see Ada, still pointing her pistol at Joe, whose right arm hung loosely at his side.
“Madam,” asked John, “is that man’s arm broken?”
“Yes,” she answered; “I broke it with a pistol-shot; but I understand a little of surgery, and can easily set it if I can get a few splinters of wood.”
Mr Durocher had hastened to his daughter and was holding her in his embrace, when hearing the word madam addressed to a person in male attire, he said—
“From this gentleman calling you madam, I suppose that you are a woman, and understand those sudden sicknesses caused by excited feelings, and peculiar to women?”
“I am a woman,” answered Ada, blushing; “and I understand you. I see that your daughter has fainted. I will attend to her. Have you any salts?” she continued, addressing Celeste.