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VOLUME I. j
BY C, R. IIANLEITER.
[P©[ET^Y a
“ Much yet remains unsung.”
1 HE I ORCE OF LOVE.
And said I lhat my limbs were old ;
And said I that my blood was cold,
And dial my kindly fire was fled.
And my poor wither’d heart was dead,
And that I might not sing of love?
I tow could 1 to the dearest theme
That ever warm'd a minstrel's dream,
So foul, so false, a recreant prove !
How could I name love's very name.
Nor wake my heart to notes of flame!
In peace, Love tunes the shepherd’s reed ;
In war, he mounts the warrior’s steed;
In halls, in gay attire is seen i
In hamlets, dances on the green.
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,
And men below, and saints above;
For love is heaven, and heaven is love.
ITALIia
THE TWO PIRATES.
BY EMMA V. E MDI'BV.
There is perhaps no crime which owes so
much to the embellishment of‘ imagination
as the atrocious one of‘piracy. The time,
place and circumstance—the awful daring
of men who on the wide waste of waters,
alone, as it were, before the face of heaven,
imbrue their hands in the blood of their fel
low-beings—the utter helplessness of their
imprisoned victims, all combine to give in
terest to the details of this horrible enormi
ty- . ,
Early in the spring of 18— two persons
were committed to prison in Huston charg
ed with this crime, and crowds of people
flocked to see them, as they would have
gone to a menagerie—to gaze in safety on
strange and ferocious animals. Among the
hundreds who visited them from mere curi
osity, was one who was actuated by a high
er motive.
Arthur Wilson had early been a student
of human nature, hut he had lived long
enough to find that man, the creature of
every-day life, was very unlike the being
described in the pages of philosophy; and
closing his ponderous tomes, he now walked
forth with the world to pursue his re
searches. His profession afforded him am
ple scope for seeing
“ Man as he is, the secret spirit free
and lie soon became ns much distinguished
for his skill in scrutinizing the motives and
divining the springs of human action, as for
his eloquence and legal attainments.
The court, willing to wive the prisoners
every chance of proving their innocence,
had appointed Mr. Wilson counsel for the
accused, and he was hastening to the prison
to learn from their own lips some circum
stanceson which to found a defence,when he
was told that one of them had turned state’s
evidence. As lie entered the cell to take
his deposition, he could scarcely conceal his
astonishment. There was nothing of the
free bearing, the proudly courageous de
meanor which Wilson had unconsciously
associated with his idea of a man familiar
with blood and death. A short thick set fi
gure, with hands and feet so enormous as
almost to seem deformed, smali grey eyes,
that glared like those of a tiger, and a coun
tenance of mean ferocity—such was the
persoifai appearance of the notorious An
tonio Salviada.
His deposition stated that, in the April of
18—, (three years previous,) himself and
five others had shipped from Havana in the
brig Maria of NevvYork, on hoard of which
were six passengers, among whom were
two women and a child about two years old.
After they had been out at sea four days,
they rose upon the crew at midnight, mur
dered the captain, mate and passengers, and
compelled the remainder of the crew to
work the ship, while they busied themselves
in ransacking the cargo. When they ap
proached Guadaloupe, their unfortunate
messmates were stabbed and thrown into
the sea, to avoid the danger of discovery;
finally they scuttled the ship one dark night,
and went ashore in the long boat. After
dividing the specie found in the vessel,
amounting to about forty thousand dollars,
they were about separating themselves,
when they accidentally encountered an old
companion in wickedness, with whom they
obtained lodgings until they could arrange
their schemes. The result of their plans
was that a small, swift-sailing brig was pro
cured, with which they had ever since been
scouring tfce seas, until a shipwreck, which
E roved fatal to most of his comrades, had
rought him under the power of the laws
he had offended. Such was the amount of
his testimony. Os his life previously to the
seizure of the brig Maria, he said nothing;
the destruction of that ship was the first
criminal charge brought against him, and
he was too wary to commit himself by any
unnecessary confession. He related his
story with the utmost coolness; not the
least trace of emotion was visible in his
countenance as he minutely described the
circumstances just mentioned, and Wilson
left him, secretly regretting that the law
would now be compelled to pardon one
whom justice would so promptly have con
demned.
But if such were his feelings when quit-
& JFaiuUg JLetosjmuer: ©rtootc* to Hiterature, agriculture, iWecfwtuica, iEtmcatiou, jForelflit auU domestic EwteUlfieuce, fcr.
ting the guilty Salviada, how much was that
regret increased, when he entered the ad
joining cell, and gazed upon its unhappy in
mate. His age could scarcely have exceed
ed twenty years ; his figure was so slender
and boyish, as to give an idea of extreme
delicacy of constitution ; his complexion,
though embrowned by exposure, was evi
dently of almost feminine transparency;
his eyes were of that clear blue so lare’ly
seen except in early childhood, and the short
curls of his bright hair clustered upon his
forehead as gracefully as if a mother’s hand
had just threaded their silken mazes. Mr.
Wilson involuntarily paused as he looked
upon the delicate beauty of the face, which
he had expected to see characterized by the
same dark passions that had so fearfully im
pressed themselves in the countenance of
the elder pirate. He was recalled to him
self by the low, mellow voice of the crimi
nal.
“ You would speak with me, sir,” said he,
somewhat hastily ; “ let me request you to
he brief, my hours are now too precious to
be wasted on idle visiters.”
The kind heart of the lawyer could well
understand the feelings which prompted
such impatience of intrusion, and with the
utmost gentleness lie informed the prisoner
that to him had been intrusted his defence.
He besought the youth to state explicitly
every extenuating circumstance, and to give
him some facts on which to found his argu
ment for an acquittal.
“ You have the testimony of Antonio
Salviada, sir,” was his reply ; “ let that suf
fice—what he tells you is doubtless true.”
“ Ami have you nothing to urge in your
own defence 1”
“ Nothing!”
In vain Mr. Wilson urged him to relate
his own account of their piratical cruise.
“ 1 thank you, sir,” said he, “ for the in
terest you appear to take in such a wretch
as I am, but it is of no avail; life is a bur
den which I would willingly shake off'. I
was on board the ship at the time of the
mutiny ; I saw the captaii: and mate ihtown
overboard, and though my hand aided not
in the deed, yet I stood among the murder
ers'’
1 his was all that could be learned from
the unhappy boy, and the kind hearted law
yer was obliged to leave him without ob
taining the least grounds for his defence.
But the feelings of Mr. Wilson were too
strongly interested, to allow of his resting
satisfied without making another attempt to
influence the wayward spirit of the young
pirate. Every day he visited him, and eve
ry interview tended to increase the interest
he already felt. He found the prisoner re
markably intelligent, and more than usually
well-informed. His education appeared to
have been an irregular one, for he was little
skilled in the learning of the schools, hut
there was an originality in his lemarks, and
a refinement in his sentiments, which struck
Mr. Wilson with astonishment.
The kindness of the good lawyer was not
without its influence upon the criminal, and
when the day of trial drew near, he seem
ed more disposed to confideto him his whole
story, as if unwilling to face a frowning
world without having secured at least one
friend. On the right before the trial he re
lated the following particulars :
“ In order to give you a correct view of
the singular circumstances in which I have
been placed, I must begin with the history
of my mother. When but three years of
age she was placed at one of the first boaid
rng-surwols in Nsw York by a rough-look’
ing sailor, who stated that he had been com
missioned by her father to leave her in the
charge of the precepress, with strict injunc
tions to give her the best education possi
ble. A bag containing five hundred dollars,
in silver, was left as an earnest that all ex
penses would be duly paid, hut the sailor
refused to give any explanation respecting
her family, merely stating her name to he
Mary O’Neill. Every year a sum of rneney
sufficient to defray all expenditures was sent
to the governess, but no message, no letter
from bet father ever accompanied it, and
she remained at school until she had attain
ed her eighteenth year, without having
known any other connections than her teach
ers and schoolmates. At length, the same
sailor who had placed her at school, came
to take her to her father. She could not
disguise the reluctance with which she left
the friends of her youth, to seek a relative
of whom she retained no recollection, and
whose name even she bad never beard.—
Judge then of her horror when, after they
had set out upon their journey, her com
panion informed her that in him she beheld
her father. It was even so : a coarse Irish
sailor, of vulgar speech and worse than vul
gar habits, was the parent of the beautiful,
the refined, the high-educated girl. Who
her mother was she never learned ; a feel
ing of tenderness, such as no other object
had ever awakened, induced her father to
secure to her the benefits of education, and,
once provided for, he allowed her to remain
in the enjoyment of the advantages, until it
suited his conscience to demand her return.
“ Had this been all, she might have learn
ed to bear with patience the brutality of a
parent, but when he took her to his home
—a miserable tavern in Havana, the com
mon resort of smugglers and sailors of the
lowest order—her situation became intoler
able. She learned too soon her father’s
motive in bringing her to such a home.—
Among the ruffians who frequented the
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 28, 1843.
house, was one whose horrible countenance
she well remembered to have seen two
years before, when he came as the messen
ger from her father, to deposite in her hands
the usual bag of silver. Brutal in manners
and disgusting in person, he was now ren
dered doubly hateful to her by the coarse
attentions which he constantly paid her.—
W hat then were her feelings, when she
overheard a conversation between him and
her father, from which she learned that the
admiration with which she had inspired him
when at school had prompted her father to
recall her, and that she was actually about
to be sold to the wretch in payment of a
large debt which her father had not the
means of discharging! In vain she wept,
and implored his compassion; the love of
gold was stronger than parental affection.
A priest in the pay of the gang of villains
performed the ceremony, and the unhappy
girl awoke from a deep swoon to find her
self the wife of a smuggler and pirate.—
Dearly did her father pay for his cruelty.
Avery few months after this ill-omened
marriage, he was stabbed by his son-in-law
in a fit of passion, and his wretched daugh
ter was immediately hurried on board a ves
sel, which seemed only waiting the orders
of her husband. r ilie scenes of horror
which she witnessed there she never could
describe—the very recollection seemed to
agonize her. It was there, sir—amid those
sights of terror—on board a ship whose
bold was stored with the wealth of murder
ed men—whose deck was stained with the
life-blood of innocent victims—it was there
that I was born. You start—is it so very
strange that a pirate ship should be the
birthplace of a pirate ?
“ For two years after my birth my moth
er was kept a close prisoner in this floating
bell. The wretch knew her aversion for
him, and be feared to trust her an instant
from his sight. Theie was one human feel
ing still left within his bosom, and that was
parental affection. His love for me was a
deep, intense passion, and my poor mother
was as much terrified by the almost feroci
ous affection for us, as by his ruthlessness
to oihers. My health at length appeared to
sufferfrom confinement in a close and crowd
ed vessel, and lie was compelled to allow
my mother to take lodgings on shore fora
short period. Not daring to remain with
her, be left us in the charge of one of his
most trusty officers. But my mother had
determined to escape, and to a determined
mind all things are practicable. “When he
next ventured to approach the coast, his wife
and son had fled from him for ever.
“ All these circumstances I have frequent
ly heard my mother relate, but she careful
ly concealed from me the name of my fath
er. Even to this day I nm as ignorant of
his name as of his person.
“ But let me begin my own narration.—
All my early recollections are unhappy ones.
A small and scantily-furnished apartment,
whose single casement offered slight resis
tance to the wind and rain, was the abode
of my poor mother and her worse than fath
erless boy. The sale of the few jewels
which she was able to conceal about her
person when she escaped from her husband,
was all she could rely upon for subsistence,
and this little store she endeavored to aug
ment by disposing of various kinds of orna
mental needle-work, the only resource with
which her elegant and superficial education
had provided her. Secluded from all sight,
trembling if she hut fancied a strangei’s
glance fixed on her for an instant; toiling
day and night at the easel or the embroide
ry-frame, to procure a miserable pittance
for herself and child—thus did she pass four
miserable, tedious years. Ob, sir, you who
are surrounded by friends and relatives of
all degrees of consanguinity, cannot know
how strong are the ties which bind together
the hearts of a lonely mother and her only
son. The love which, under happier cir
cumstances, would spend itself in many
channels, is then condensed in one, and the
course of such affection, however impeded
by :he evils of life, can never cease to flow
till the heurts of both have ceased to bent.”
He paused, overpowered by his feelings.
“ My mother ! my poor mother !” he at
length exclaimed, “ how will she bear these
dreadful tidings !” then, as if ashamed of
his emotion, he continued : “We lived, as
I have said, about four yeats in this state of
indigence and misery, when an unexpected
friend appeared to aid us. A lady, for whom
my mother had made many articles of fan
cy work, attracted by the elegance of her
person and manners, had frequently endea
vored to win her confidence, until at length
the voice of kindness overcome my mother’s
fear of discovery, and she ielated to her
new friend her singular story. Mrs.
was a woman of heart and mind ; she pos
sessed, too, that which in this bank-note
world is much more important—wealth.—
My mother was too r.oble-minded to be de-
Cendent on the charity of any one; but
Irp. ’s exertions procured her a situa
tion in a large boarding-school, with a sala
ry quite sufficient for our moderate wants. ;
1 was placed in a day-school in the neigh
borhood, and an arrangement was made,
which allowed me still to be my mother’s
companion after the hours allotted for our
several duties.
“ Let me now explain to you the peculi
arities of my character. My father was a
man of almost terrific courage ; my mother
hod shown a spirit equal to the most trying
emergencies, and yet I—their only child— I
was born a coward ! a weak, timid, nervous
creature, unfit to face the lightest blast of
fortune. Philosophers may prate as they
will about the impartiality of nature. It is
false—to one she gives the noblest talents,
to another a mind but one degree above the
brute; on one she bestows the moral cour
age, which elevates him to the highest rank
in creation, while she sends another inlo the
world ‘ but half made up ;’ a weak, drivel
ling creature, fit only to drudge his life
away and he forgotten. Such a step-dame
has she been to me. I was born a coward
—I have lived a coward—and cowardice,
not guilt, has brought me to a felon’s death.”
He ground his teeth till the blood foamed
from his lips as he spoke.
“I forget myself,” he at length resumed,
“let me briefly finish my story. When I
was about fourteen years of age, the hus
band of my mother’s friend, Mrs. , of
fered to send me to sea in one of his own
ships. You may easily imagine how un
willing my mother waste devote me to such
a life, hut she had no alternative. There
seemed to be no choice between this and a
fife pf dependent idleness, and she finally
consented to let me go, only stipulating that
I should never sail to the West Indies. Her
fear lest I might accidentally encounter my
father, was the cause of this restriction, and
the knowledge of her motive did not tend
to diminish my reluctance to the perilous
life of a sailor. Never shall I forget the
misery of the night on which I first learned
my future destiny. All the horrors that ev
er appeared before the vision of a ship
wrecked mariner, were conjured up by my
terrified imagination. Shame, and the fear
of distresting my mother, compelled me to
suppress my feelings when in her presence,
but no sooner did I find myself alone, in
the darkness and solitude of night, than my
very soul writhed in an agony of terror.
“At length the appointed day arrived,
and I went upon my first voyage. Even
now, when my nerves have been strengthen
ed or perhaps benumbed by sights of hor
ror such as few have seen, I cannot think
of my mental sufferings at that time with
out a shudder. Everything was fraught
with horror for me. My very flesh would
quiver when I heard the call which sum
moned me to my night-watch on deck. In
calm weather, the monotonous dashing of
the heavy waves, the phosphoric glitter of
the dark waters, the dim and changing sha
dows amid the shrouds, all were to me ob
jects of alarm. But when the spirit of the
tempest was abroad—when the lushing
winds battled with the upheaved waves—
when the lightning and thunder mingled
with the elemental strife, until nature her
self seemed about to perish by the warfare
of her children—then my very soul seemed
crushed by the weight of its fears. Many
a time, when the bold-hearted boy who was
my companion in the ship would shout in
defiance of the storm, and bound up the
rigging with a merryjest and a ringing laugh,
have 1 buried my head between my knees,
while my bands clung to the neatest sup
port with a tenacity which forced the blood
from beneath my nails. Contempt, ridicule,
punishment, all were tried in order to con
quer my timidity, hut all were equally vain.
Alas ! did I not owe my weakness to the
terrors which surrounded my mother, when
in infancy I drew the nutriment of life from
her bosom 1 Was it not the sin of the fath
er thus visited upon his child ?
“'l ime passed on —I was now seventeen
years of age, and two voyages to sea had
somewhat diminished my terrors, when I
encountered new perils which were destin
ed to destroy me. I embarked with the
same captain upon my third voyage. The
venture with which he had been intrusted
not having met with its expected success,
lie determined, upon his own responsibility,
to touch at Havana, in order to repair, if
possible, the losses which he as well as his
employers must otherwise sustain. This
was dreadful tidings to me, and with the
fear of meeting my pirate father, foremost
in my thoughts, I found myself in sight of
Havana. Here we were more successful,
ami after taking in a valuable cargo, and
shipping some few hands to take the place
of those we left sick in Havana, we sailed
out of the port.
“ There was one among our new mess
mates whom, from the first instant I beheld
him, I regarded with peculiar aversion.—
Need I say that man was Antonio Salviada!
The day that we weighed anchor I had ob
served him whispering with our Havana
sailors, and. though utterly ignorant of his
history, I could not help regarding him with
such instinctive dread as a child feels while
looking on a venomous reptile, even when
it knows not the creaturo’s noxious nature.
“Our passengers were an American gen
tleman with his wife and n child about two
years old, two elderly Spaniards and an
Englishman, an invalid, with his only daugh
ter. Never can I forget that noble crea
ture's appearance—her full black eye—her
raven hair, patted upon her proud forehead
—her stately figure. If ever woman was
gifted with queenly, goddess-like beauty, it
was Elinor Nelson ; yet glorious as she was,
she was far less feminine than her compan
ion, the gentle wife and mother. Till then,
I had scarcely looked upon a woman, and
little did the ladies think, when they sal to
gether on deck, enjoying the novelty of a
sea view, with what strange and fervent
feelings the poor sailor boy regarded them.
To watch the mother, as she bent over her
; little boy in all the graceful tenderness of
maternal affection, or to gaze awestruck up
| on the haughty beauty of theyoung Elinor,
1 as she pared the deck with her invalid fath
er, waste me happiness. They noticed me
too—my youthful appearance, and, perhaps,
gentle manner, (for I could not be the rude
sailor when in their presence,) and twice the
soft tones of the mother’s voice sunk into
my heart, as she thanked me for some little
kindness shown to her hoy. Would to heav
en I had died ere I had seen their faces!
“ VVe had been out at sea five days, when
I perceived some stir among our new hands
which seemed to manifest evil intentions.
1 discovered Antonio examining his cutlass,
and in the course of the day 1 found two or
tliiee of the men at the grindstone, secretly
sharpening their long Spanish knives. But
my cursed cowardice forbade me to give
the alarm to our captain, for I knew he
would order them put in irons, and that, as
soon as they were freed, they would sheath
their weapons in my body. I contended
myself,therefore, with thinking that I would
watch their motions, and be on the alert to
prevent their treachery. It was too late ;
that very night the crime was perpetrated.
Antonio had the mid-watch, the captain was
sleeping soundly in his berth, and I had just
sunk into an unquiet slumber, when we
were aroused by an unusual hustle in the
ship. Half-dressed the captain rushed on
deck, and was met by a sabre-cut across the
head, which stretched him senseless at Sal
viada’s feet. The cabin was immediately
closed upon the passengers, while the muti
neers mastered the crew, and so well had
they arranged their plans, that in less than
ten minutes they were in possession of the
ship. Antonio had seized me in his power
ful grasp as I stumbled up the companion
way.
“‘Young man,’ he whispered, ‘ stir not,
and you are safe—you saw enough this
morning to mar our plot, had you been so
minded; you did not betray it, therefore
you are one iif us. Be silent, and* stand
there,’ pointing as lie spoke to the knot of
villains who stood waiting his commands.
“ Will it he believed ? I obeyed him—
mechanically, it is true, for I was stupified
with terror —a cutlass was put into my
hands, and, like a statue, I stood among the
pirates. How did my soul sink as I wit
nessed the horrid butchery lhat ensued.—
One by one the sailors were dragged for
ward, stabbed and flung overboard. The
mate shared Ihe same fate, and, last of all,
the captain. As he was forced ulong, bound
and bleeding, he espied me.
“‘Edward! Edward!’ he cried, ‘save
me for God’s sake !’
“ In vain he called—l was turned to stone
—my cutlass was in my hand, but my fin
gers were palsied—he perished! But the
worst is yet untold.
“At daybreak, the terrified passengers
were released from their imprisonment, but
what a release! With their arms bound
tightly behind their backs, they stood rang
ed on deck, like so mauy victims for sacri
fice. The females were left free, but the
strong bonds of affection fettered them, and
beside the husband and father stood the un
shrinking wife and the heroic daughter.—
Salviada, accompanied by one of bis ruffi
ans, deliberately approached one of the
Spanish gentlemen and demanded his purse,
watch, and the keys of his trunks. Calmly
and silently the old man obeyed. Antonio
handed them to the villain beside him, and
then made a peculiar sign with his finger,
which appeared io he well understood by
his gang, for one of them immediately step
ped forward, anil with one blow of his long
knife, sent the helpless Spaniard to his last
account. A stifled shriek burst from the
lips of the women, as the bleeding corpse
was flung headlong over the gunwale. But
the work of death proceeded, and the se
cond Spaniard shared the sale of his com
panion. As the monster Salviada approach
ed the pinioned American, his wife silently
but eagerly watched Iris every motion. She
saw the sign, and clasped her inlant in one
arm, threw herself upon the bosom of her
husband just as the weapon was descending
with all the force of a villain’s arm. Jlu
ther and child—both perished by the same
blow; but alas! the precious shield bad
been interposed in vain—a second stab pros
trated her husband at her side. Elinor
Nelson bad stood as rigid as marble, gaz
ing with dilated eye upon the horrid spec
tacle. Stirless, almost breathless she stood,
until they drew near her father, then, like
a tigress robbtd .f her young, she sprang
forward.
“‘Dastardly wretch!’ she exclaimed, as
she snatched the useless weapon from my
hand, ‘ will you see ibis and yet give no
aid r
“She aimed a blow at Salviada as she
spoke; he caught the weapon in his nuked
hand, but a gasir on the cheek and three
fingers of his left hand rendered useless for
life, are lasting memorials to him of a wo
man’s heroic spirit. Irritated at seeing the
Llood of their leader flow beneath a wo
man’s hand, one of his desperate conq an
ions rushed forward and buried h s dagger
in her bosom. She fell—that stalely form :
fell like a broken lily at the feel of those
outcasts of humanity. Then first 1 awoke
from my stupor. 1 staggered forward to
ward the lifeless body, but the right hand
of Salviada fell upon me like an iron mace.
He struck me to the deck, and when I re-
| NUMBER 44.
W. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
covered my recollection I was lying in my
berth in the cabin.
“ Despise me—hate me as yoti will—yon
shall yet know the whole troth. I was cow
ard enough to look upon these atrocious
deeds without attempting to avenge them—
I was coward enough to take mj share of
the plunder, because my life was threatened
if I refused. Did I not thus become a par
ticipator in the crime l
“ As if there were some secret tie which
linked us together, from that hour Salvisda
and I were never asunder. Much as I ha
ted him, 1 seemed to be under some spell
which forced me to submit to him. I have
witnessed many Woody scenes since then,
but my hand has never used the dagger, I
dared not murder; and the task of plun
dering the chests of our victims, or examin
ing the cargoes of our prizes, has always
been assigned to me, while bolderihearted
villains shed the blond of our prisoners.—
I could not escape from them—the eye of
Salviada was forever upon me, and he seem
ed to have singled me out for his peculiar
prey. Three years spent in this manner
hod almost made me reckless of life, when
our shipwreck compelled the gang to se
parate. Mechanically obeying the orders
of Antonio, I accompanied him to Boston,
determined, however, to seize the earliest
chance of escape, when his display of wealth
and his drunken boasts first excited suspi
cion.
“ We were imprisoned, and Salviada vol
unteered a confession, which he knew would
screen himself—the most goihy of all—by
the sacrifice of me—the most innocent.—
Nothing but the overpowering instinct
which leads men to save his own life at any
cost, could, I am convinced, have induced
him to take such a course; for, whatever
was his motive, he certainly manifested a
sttange sort of affection foi me. He rescued
me repeatedly from peril, and always tome
was kind, though I never could overcome
my abhorrence for him. I have deserved
death, but there is no blood upon my hands;
the stain is upoti my heart —l stood among
(hv mantcrer:~
He turned away, and, throwing himself
upon liie pallet, gave way to the wildest
emotion.
** But your mother!” said Mr. Wilson,
after a pause.
Raising himself slowly, he looked up
with an almost maniacal expression as bej
exclaimed—
“ She feared I might meet my piratwrijn
father—how will the meet her pirate son tr
then, with a wild laugh he cried—“ \\ hy it
is right—the sins of the father are visited
upon the children—shame was the inherit
ance of my mother—sin was entailed upon
me hy my father—guilt is mj only heritage!”
• ••**•
The court was crowded to suffocation.—
The youth and prepossessing appearance of
the prisoner excited universal interest, while
many a lowering glance was directed to the
witness-box, in which sat the ferocious-look
ing Salviada. The deposition of the State’s
evidence was read—his cross-examination
confirmed the truth of his statements, and,
in spite of their interest in the prisoner, the
opinions of ell were decidedly against him,
when Mr. Wilson arose to address the court.
He stated the facts, as he had learned them
from the confession of the accused ; he dwelt
upon the enormities of which the witness
had been guilty ; he pleaded in extenuation
of the prisoner his extreme youth and con
stitutional timidity, and ended with an ap
peal to the feelings of the jury, which wrung
tears from the sternest eyes in court. The
judge was evidently much affected when he
delivered hischatgetothe jury. In stating
the facts of the case, he inadveitently made
a slight error; it was the mistake of a sin
gle word, and that so trifling a one as not
mainly to affect the merits of the case, but
the prisoner, who had hitherto stood silent
and unmoved, delected it instantly. Turn
ing suddenly tothe judge he exclaimed—
“ Pardon me, sir, but it is a case of life
and death which is now to he decided; you
have committed an error in your charge,
and every word is now of importance.”
The clear ringing tones of his voice
struck upon the hearts of all present. The
judge corrected his mistake, and the jury
retired. They were not long absent, for
whatever might be their prepossessions, the
facts were indisputable, and they returned
a verdict of “ guilty of piracy,” bot recom
mended him to mercy. A low, distinct
murmur ran through the court, as the judge
riiepared to pronounce the fatal sentence,
t was followed by a death like silence, and
each word, as it fell slowly arid solemnly
from the lips of the venerable men, seemed
to awaken a thrill of agony in the whole
frame of the piisoner. It was like that meat
ciuel of all the tortures of the olden time
—the punishment (f the water-drop,
where the criminal was compelled to sk
with shaved head beneath a water-tube
which allowed only one drop to fall up u
his head at regular intervals, until his brain
became maddened and bis frame convulsed.
Fearful was the sound of the prisoner**
1 alf-suppn Sied moans, as the judge prr -
ceeded to bid him prepare for death, ard
warned him not to expect the mercy Wrhich
his jurors would fain have awaided him.—
’fhe chances of pardon were iudeed slight,
for the governor was a man of iuflexib e
purpose, and no feeling of compassion was
ever allowed to plead the cause of guilt in
his bosom. The unhappy boy quivered iu