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TERMS, *2,00 PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE,
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For tlie Southern Literary Gazette.
THE TEMPLE OF MINERVA
\T sun in M.
Wiiat - pel!.- ari-f j *o t’<>-hen the rapt t rial, —
What vision.:, conjured up by antique toug,
Inspire tlic muse to holiest offices,
Aionc “t on. 1 ’ and worship; homage most
fond.
To the •a', gua.diiiusot ilii.s holiest realm,
‘l'll i h.ek-i all mortal guardian,—for the joys,
Won from it wealth when Genin- fiivi, with
-pell',
|\>~ id the eai> < it time. Lofty; have we
draiik
Ot the. sweet wan as from the -■ ancient rocks.
Nor seen their r oarces — drank of memories,
Taugiil by the iudv. i long vo ce, ot iheec heights,
I'hai now find echoes for the past no more,
Yel live for all the future. What a -pell—
If thei* be aught in pTr.ee to m ih<* ir s.ae.eti, —
Should warm u - now to voicing- like the past,
And make a soul of lire inform the clay,
I'm whom no longer titc Prometheus tons,
In holy theft from heaven. We may not brood
In the old temple of the mighty past,
Nor catch the sacred spirit of the seer,
That watched it.-- tires, and from its mystic caves,
Caught the wild music in its oracles,
And shaped it to the lyre. There should be still
A lingering spirit in these crumbling towers,
To till and prompt our own—to yield us powers
Like those that once they knew. Yet, how we
doubt!
Can this be real, this vision 1 Are we now,
In Greece, —bui lately stray’d from western
realms,
In temples of the forest, —natural shafts,
That never yet knew offices of art,
Nor fear’d her axe or rivalry :—and now !
Behold where silent oil the Sunium steep,
Minerva’s shrine, abandoned to the storm,
.Makes holy still the mountains and the sea,
It looks on, with that eye all vacancy,
Without a voice to answer to their song,—
Their song of winds and waters,mightiest notes,
Poured through gigantic trebles in great rocks,
Arid caverns of vexed oceans, that she hears,
Unconscious ; —she that once so joy’d to hear !
Wisdom’s dumb oracle ! that, with no speech,
Still warns the precipitate nations of a fate
That mocks the Empire’s greatness —mocks
the art,
That mock’d at Empire! How supreme the
spell,
Eloquent thus in silence, to the ears
That lean on Thought, and in the solitude,
Seek counsels for the populous realms that still
Struggle on, through strifes to darkness and
grim ruin
That seizes realms for apathy. How lone,
Yet with compelling majesty, how soars
That hallow’d wreck! The pale moon ho
nours it,
Nightly, with fond and tributary glance;
And, with the day, Apollo, rising proud,
Pours on it floods of gold, that make it smile
Through all its rents of ruin. Straight, we
deem,
Even as we gaze, that time will soon restore
The populous realm to thought. The work
goes on, —
The new creation, children of the old.
And worthy of their sires. We hear a sound,
Faint and mysterious, swelling from the rocks,
And through each gaping crevice,see the smokes
As from a secret altar. liark, a strain,
Front mighty instruments, of antique mould,
That freely speak in language of old song,
A chaunt familiar to the solemn past,
And worthy of ali time. How should it die !
It lives! They live ! The masters of the spell,
And all their classic heroes. The rock groitas
Once more into the temple. Lift thine eyes,
And see the numerous glories—mark the hosts
Ascending to the altar; —the high priest,
Ready, with bared and sacred instrument ;
And, at his feet, with neck begirt with ilowers,
The patient lamb awaiting sacrifice.
ARION.
(Original (Cults.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
THE MAROON.
A LEGEND OF THE CARRIBEES.
BY W. GILMORE SIMMS, ESQ.
Author of “The Yemassee,” etc.
XXII.
The situation of our “ Maroon” was
one of considerable difficulty. There
was no pretext by which he could avoid
thecontemplated exploration ofhis islet,
by the woman who was the mistress
ofhis fate, and, as she naturally enough
assumed, of his affections also. What
had she not periled for those affections?
The conviction of her own sacrifices, —
the belief that she had saved him from
a cruel destiny, and that he felt thepro
foundest gratitude for her love, —had
rendered her more subdued, and gen
tle of tone and carriage, than he had
ever before seen her. She had no
longer to contend with the brutal pas
sions of Velasquez, or the subtle and
insolent spirit of his nephew. There >
was no influence now to combat her i
imperious will, and to oppose itself to
the exercise of her own passions. She
had won the fearful game for which she
had played, and she might well give
herself a brief respite after the contest.
The sweet and balmy climate of the |
islet, the picturesque beauty ot its as- j
pects,—its delicious fruits, —the novel
ty of such an abode, —and, above all,
that romantic passion for solitude —
with a companion—which accompanies
the fresher sensibilities of youth, —all
tended to excite in Maria de Pacheco
the desire which she expressed, at least
to dream away a single night on the
lonely domain of the “ Maroon. Her
early career in the haunts of the gipsy,
wa - recalled to memory ; and she long
ed to realize, anew, the wild sense of
pleasure which her passionate childhood
had felt, dreaming beneath the arch ot
Heaven, and gazing away long lapses
of the night, in mute communion with
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The Ft ench Broad River, supposed
to bear the name of its discoverer, fol.
lows a capricious course northward
from its sources in the Blue Ridge, un
til it reaches the vicinage of the plea
sant little village of Ashville,the county
town of Buncombe, in the western part
of North Carolina. In its passage, thus
far, it offers nothing deserving a more
prominent place in the memory of the
traveller, than the million of mountain
streams. Onward from Ashville, the
river making a right angle in its course,
rushes westward! v, and seems suddenly
to grow impatient of its mediocre char
acter, and to be bent upon assuming
the haughtiest position in the great
brotherhood of waters. The highroad
leading from the old North State into
Tennessee, strikes the banks of the
river, some five miles from the village,
and accompanies it, side by side, through
nearly half a hundred miles of natural
beauties and wonders, which the most
the sadly bright, down-looking stars.
Here, in a solitude which her lover had
maintained for near a month, she might
surely rest one night in safety. The
boat might return to the ship—nay,
should return, and she should share, for
that night, with Lopez, the sovereignty
of the island.
“They shall maroon me also, Lo
pez.*’
•• They may ! was his suggestion.
“ Nay, I fear not. Linares is faith
l'ul to me. He cannot well do without
me.”
“ But he may be blown off with a
tempest. They are fierce and sudden
in these latitudes, and terrible in pro
portion to the beauty and serenity of
the calmness now.”
“ Well, Linares will come back for
us.”
“But, should he founder]”
“ We then are safe, Lopez!”
The answer silenced him tor awhile.
But he renewed the attempt —more
cautiously, but with such suggestions
as might have influenced his own na
ture. He described to her the unwont
ed terrors which had assailed him in
his first acquaintance with the island.
The lowing of strange beasts of the sea
which sometimes came to sleep by night
upon the shore. The screams of un
known birds of great expanse of wing,
and power, glimpses of which he caught,
rising and descending, as from the stars,
at midnight;—the awful plunges of
wild monsters, from the shore into the
sea, and the bellowing of whole tribes
of strange animals, whose uproar seem
ed to shake the islet itself. But these
rather provoked the curiosity than the
alarm, of the fearless woman. The
novelty of such sights and sounds pre
cluded the images of terror which he
sought to raise. She declared the very
loneliness which still made him shudder,
to be a consciousness highly desirable
to her heart; and as for the great birds
and beasts, —she had seen the elephant,
and had heard the lion roar in his own
desert of Sahara; and the very safety
of her lover was a sufficient proof that
she could be in no peril. Her will
proved superior to his fears. The boat
was tilled with fruit and sent back to
the ship, and Linares was entreated to
lay his vessel at anchor for the night,
when the two would come on board in
the morning.
To keep Maria from the cave, was
now the object of the “ Maroon —to
prolong his ramble until nightfall,
among the groves, and along the sear
shore, —and, in the night, while she
slept, to steal away from her side, —re-
gain the cave, repossess himself of his
treasure, and soothe the fears and the
suspicions of Amaya, so that he might
abandon her in safety, and without de
tection by the woman whom he most
feared ; —this was the notable scheme
which he suddenly devised, when he
found that Maria was lixed in her pur
pose of remaining on the islet. To leave
his treasure was out of the question.—
But for this treasure, he had not cared
to leave the place, lie was really very
happy with the Indian damsel, —might
have been completely happy but for
the dowry which she brought, and which
‘•..s}’- V: V ‘fcf V<£. ■<■ \jlV3Bf£ ‘ Jgffi.yA'-y’y’ JjWty.’
A SCENE ON THE FRENCH BROAD.
[Engraved by Lossing from an original Drawing by T. Addison Richards.]
inserutible observer must ever remem
ber w ith pleasure. Lofty bills rise on
either side, in endless succession, and
so abruptly here and there, that the.
road shrinks into a narrow causeway,
stolen from the very bed of the strerm,
or becomes a mere shelf in the moun
tain side. At intervals are found bits
of table-land, sufficient in extent for a
human habitation, and all such spots
are occupied by the numerous inns de
manded by the extensive travel over
this great thoroughfare. Excepting
these hostel ries, which are generally
exceedingly comfortable places, no set
tlements are to be found upon all this
portion of the river, save only that
pleasant and favourite summer resort,
not far from the Tennessee line, the
Warm Springs. The accommodations
at this establishment, which occupies a
beautiful glade on the south bank of
the river, tire in every way unexcep
tionable, and deservedly attract a large
tilled him with the proudest fancies of
the figure that he should make in Spain.
To say that he had no compunctious
visitings of conscience at the thought
of her abused devotion, —of his so soon
and cruel abandonment of one who so
thoroughly confided to his affections —
would be to do him great injustice.—
But the sympathies of the heart, unless
sustained and strengthened by a de
cisive will of the intellect, are never
long to be relied on. They arc at the
mercy of every mind, who brings to : ts
support a resolute and earnest charac
ter. Lopez was humbled when he
thought of Amaya, but his remedy was
to dismiss her from his thoughts with
all possible rapidity, lie was compell
ed to do so, for his companion required
all his attentions.
We shall say nothing of her shows
of fondness. Maria de Pacheco was
not feeble or childish, —not wanton, in
deed —in the display of her attach
ments. She was too proud for the ex
hibition oflove in its weakness and de
pendence. But she indulged the mood
somewhat after the fashion of the Sul
tana of the East. She willed to love
and to be loved, and she required obe
dience. It was necessary that Lopez
should prove that he was not ungrate
ful for the risks which she had run, and
the sacrifices which she had made, in
his behalf. It was needful that his at
tachment should be as fond, and his be
haviour as dutiful, as it had been be
fore the unfortunate discovery which
had placed them both at the mercy of
Juan. That he was reluctant, or for
getful in any respect, Maria was not
suffered to perceive. Excited as she
was by her own emotions —the con
sciousness of a great battle fought, and
a triumph gained, —the last trophies of
which were now in her hands—she, per
haps, would have been slow to detect
the wandering mood and the indifferent
manner of her companion, even if he
had betrayed either. But the timid na
ture is always solicitous how it alarms
or offends the bold one; and on the
score of his devotedness, Maria beheld
nothing, as yet, to occasion her jeal
ousy. But his will, which kept him
observant of her moods, was not suffi
cient to prescribe to her the course to
be pursued, or to arrest her eager pro
gress. Her impetuous spirit hurried
her forward; and the ground which, —
feeling his way at every step —it had
taken Lopez several days to traverse,
when he first undertook to explore his
territory —was now overcome in a few
hours. Vainly did he seek to detain
her gaze—to arrest her progress, and
inspire in her an admiration of objects
which had never once fixed his own.—
His artifices, though never suspected,
were always fruitless. She still made
fearful progress. The seashore was
abandoned, the cool groves received
them —the plain rose beneath her foot
steps, —they were already upon the
slopes of that elevation, at the extremi
ty of which lay the secret and the trea
sure of the “ Maroon.” He looked
back in terror for the sun. His round
red orb still shone high and proudly in
the heavens; and it was with equal
wonder and self-reproach that Lopez
CHARLESTON, SATURDAY, JUNE 8. 1850.
concourse of summer loiterers. Not
far from these Springs, the tourist,
looking eastward, will catch that pas
sage of the French Broad given in the
accompanying engraving. Two miles
still onward, the road falls in the deep
shadow of those immense piles of trap
rock which, from their varied colouring
and some slight remains, indeed, of
aboriginal taste and skill in the arts,
have won the title of the “ Painted
Rocks.” At a little further removed,
are still more magnificent monuments
of trap, called, from their grotesque
and eeeentric forms, the “Chimnies.”
This spot offers, perhaps, one of the
happiest scenes in the whole course of
this grand mountain pass, and is not
the less esteemed from being the last
point of especial interest, the river
here being released from its mountain
barriers and suffered to glide on peace
fully through the less rugged but still
picturesque scenery of Tennessee. T.
remembered how long it was before his
timid spirit had suffered him to com
pass the same extent of territory. The
paths naturally opened for her footsteps.
They had often been traversed by his
own; and it was with a mortal fear
thut Lopez momently caught glimpses
of the small, naked footstep of Amaya,
on the softer sands, as she had wander
ed beside him in their rambles. But
these were never seen by Marie de Pa
checo. The earnest and intense nature
seldom pauses for the small details in
a progress. Her proud spirit was al
ways upward as well as onward—al
ways above the earth. She threw her
self suddenly down beneath the thicket.
There was a pause. Our “ Maroon”
enjoyed a brief respite from his terrors.
He threw himself beside her, and her
eyes closed in his embrace. To a fierce
and intense nature such as hers, there
is something delicious in the pauses of
the strife, but it only because they are
momentary. Hie rest from conquest
is perhaps the only real luxury of en
thusiasm ; —but the interval is brief,
and is simply designed to afford a re
newal of the vitality necessary for con
tinued action.
“ How sweet, how beautiful, is the
repose of sky and shore and sea ! What
a delicious languor of atmosphere is
this !"—and a moment after speaking
thus, Maria de Pacheco shook off her
own languor, and was once more upon
her feet.
“ Will she now return to the shore
—to the palms where 1 told her I had
slept ?” Such was the secret inquire
ofhis heart. She had no such purpose.
Her curiosity was still unsatisfied. Be
sides. to walk simply upon the solid
earth, after weeks on shipboard,is itself
a luxury. The sun was still high, and
bright, though sloping gradually to the
sea. The step of Maria was taken for
ward, and Lopez followed, like a crimi
nal, with reluctant footsteps, as if going
to execution. They stood at length on
the brow of the hill, which looked over
to the Caribbean shore. The abrupt
precipice arrested her farther progress,
and she stood gazing with eager satis
faction upon the small, snug and lovely
domain of the “ Maroon.”
XXIII.
The thoughts coursed rapidly through
the brain of Lopez de Levya. He
felt that she was on the brink of his se
cret. Another step, to the right or to
the left, and the descending pathway
would lead to the sandy esplanade at
the mouth of the cave ; and, with her
restless glances, what could keep her
from discovering its curious portal and
penetrating to its inmost recesses.—
Were she to make this discovery with
out his assistance, her suspicions might
well be awakened ! lie resolved with
unaccustomed boldness. He made a
merit of necessity. He put his hand
upon her arm, and with a sweet signifi
cant smile looked upon her face as she
gazed upward.
“ I have reserved, for the last, my
greatest curiosity. I have conducted
you hither to surprise you. Follow me
now and you will see how complete is
my establishment!”
She did not reflect that he had been
guided by her footsteps, and that his
reluctance at her inspection ofhis terri
tories had been declared from the be
ginning. Site was sufficiently happy,
and indulged in no recollections or re
flections, which might occasion doubt
or suspicion. He led the way and she
descended to the beach, lie conduct
ed her to the cave, and with the eager
delight of a curious child, she darted in
to its recesses. The antechamber was
a wonder, but the interior aroused till
that was romantic in her nature. It
wtts just the sort of dwelling for one
trained among the gypsies of the Al
puxarras. The chamber was so wild
and mug! The stone, such a truly
Egyptian fire-place! She did not
dream of its uses as an altar, nor did he
breavhe a syllable on this subject. And
the couch in which he had slept, in.
which there still remained a sufficient
supply of moss and leaves, to render it
suitable for the same purpose, was one
to determine her instantly that it should
be hers that very night.
W e need not describe the consterna
tion of Lopez as he listened to this re
solve. It completed his disquiet and
annoyance. He had trembled at every
step which she had taken—at every
glance of her eye when the cave was
entered. He feared her eager survey
—her penetrating scrutiny. His eyes
stole frequently and unconsciously to
the remote corner of the cave in which
he had concealed Amaya: and while
he trembled at the possible discoveries
of the Spanish woman, hi-- companion,
his heart smote him for those w hich the
poor girl of Caribbee must have al
ready made. For Maria de Pacheco,
assuming the duty and devotion of her
lover, had not spared her endearments.
The silence and the secrecy of the ca
vern seemed to invite them. She had
hung upon his neck with her caresses,
and he had been compelled to requite
them, though in fear and trembling.—
llis conscience smote him when he
thought of the unselfish and confiding
passion of Amaya—her simple truth,
her gentle nature, and the artless sweet
ness of her affections. But to withstand
the imperious spirit of the woman at
his side, was not within his strength
and courage. His fears, and the new
born agonies of the Indian women,
may be more easily imagined than de
scribed.
XXIV.
Again did the two emerge from the
cavern. The sun had set! Night wa>
falling rapidly, as is its wont in those
regions, where the day makes, as it
were, but a single transition, from me
ridian brightness to the stillness and the
dusk of midnight. An angry flush lay
in the region where the sun went down,
to the wary mariner denoting wind and
tempest. But neither Lopez nor his
companion thought of storm; nor did
this fear impress the seamen on board
the Dian de Burgos. The fruits from
the shore —the momentary pause from
the ordinary duties of the sea, —and a
division of a portion of the treasures of
Velasquez and Juan among the crew,
by way of hush-money and bounty, call
ed for something like indulgence. Tfre
Dian de Burgos was not without her
luxuries. The stores of her late cap
tain were fished up. Linares was dis
posed to be liberal to his former com
rades ; and wine and stronger beverages
were not denied to their enjoyment.—
It was among the infirmities of Linares
that he himself was not wholly insensi
ble to the joys of the vine. As the
heir to Velasquez he might certainly
indulge his tastes, lie did so; and
while Maria de Pacheco luxuriated in
the delights of love, he gratified his
newly gotten liberty by sacrifices at the
altars of a very different deity.
Ordinary precautions are soon for
gotten in the acquisition of extraordi
nary pleasures. No one thought of
tempest. The evening remtiined calm.
There was little wind stirring, just
enough to break into irregular but not
threatening billows, the vast surface of
the sea. The stars were out soon, large,
bright and very numerous. A thin
drift of clouds might be seen to scud
slowly away among them from the
west to the east. Lopez would have
led his companion away from the ca
vern—would have persuaded her to a
couch among the palms where, as he
showed her, his own had first been
made. But she had resolved upon the
chamber in the cavern, and he was com
pelled to submit. They re-entered it
with heedful footsteps. The interior
was wholly dark, except where, in the
inner apartment, the light of the stars
made its way through the two small
apertures which the Maroon had left
unclosed. It was long before they slept.
Much had Maria de Pacheco to relate.
She gave him the details of the con
spiracy against Velasquez. She sup
pressed nothing of her own share in the
proceedings, and declared a very natu
ral and feminine horror at the catastro
phe, which she yet insisted on as ne
cessary to her own safety and to his.
The “Maroon” listened to the narrative
with conflicting feelings and in silence.
The conduct of Maria established a
new claim upon his gratitude ; but it
did not contribute to the strength of his
former passion; and his thoughts,
though fascinated by the terrible story ,
to winch lie listened, were sometimes
startled from their propriety, as he
heard, more than once, what seemed to
him a deep igh from the hiding place
of Amaya. It may have been in his
lancy only that this intrusive monitor :
was heard, but it sufficed to keep him I
apprehensive. Fortunately, Maria <le
Pacheco heard nothing. She had no
suspicions, and, in the death of Juan
and Velasquez, her fears were all ended.
In the recovery of the Maroon” all
her hopes seemed to be satisfied.
XXV.
The night began to wane —the wind
rose, ft could be heard shrilly to whis
tle through the crevices of the rock, as
if in threat and warning. But Maria
slept, not deeply, and her head was on
the arm of the “ Maroon.” When he
sought to rise, which more than once
he did, she started from her sleep with
disquietude. If he but stirred, she was
conscious of it. Hersleep was troubled. I
Her dreams revenged upon her con- ;
science the obtuseness which, by the
force of her will, she imposed upon it
in her waking moments, it enabled j
her to restrain, though unconsciously, !
the movements of her companion. He
made repeated attempts to disengage
himself from her grasp,—and rise. lie
wished to confer with Amaya. We
may conjecture what he would have
said. But he strove in vain. In watch
ing for the moment when the sleep of
Maria should become sufficiently deep
to afford him the desired opportunity, j
he finally slept himself. Nature yield
ed at last, and his slumbers were soon
quite as profound as those of his com
panion.
Without being well conscious that
he slept at all, he was suddenly awaken
ed, as if by a death-cold hand upon his
wrist. He started, and was confound- i
!
ed when he unclosed his eyes, to be- j
hold the cavern brightly illuminated. |
The fire which had been suffered to go j
out bv the Caribbean damsel, in the
sweet experience of her first mortal j
passion, had been suddenly revived,and
by her hands. She stood between him
and the altar-place, her eyes wildly sad I
and staring upon him and his compan
ion. A torch was still grasped in one
of her uplifted hands. She had proba
bly been inspecting closely the sleeping
features of the woman who had first
taught her to feci the agony which be
longs to a consciousness of the infideli
ty of the beloved one. As, at his
awakening, the head of the “ Maroon”
was involuntarily uplifted, she cast the
brand which she held upon the altar,
flung one of her hands despairingly and
reproachfully toward him, and darted
headlong from the chamber.
XXVI.
Maria de Pacheco still slept. It was
now doubly important to the. Ma
aoon” that she should continue to do
so. To rise softly—which he now suc
ceeded in doing, without arousing her
—to extinguish the brands and to steal
forth, and see what was the course, and
what the purpose of Amaya, was the j
next natural movement of Lopez. He
soon smothered the flame and quenched
the burning embers ; but the nighthad
grown dark, —the stars were shrouded,
and, when he emerged from the cavern,
he could see nothing. lie stole back,
trembling with doubt and apprehen
sion, and wondering what next would
follow. Maria had awakened.
“ Where are you I”—was her salu
tation as he drew nigh—•• Where have
you been I”
“ Hear you the wind, Maria \ The
night is very dark and gusty ? We
shall have a storm to-morrow.”
“ But we are safe, Lopez !” was the
reply.
“ I am not so sure of that,” was the
secret whisper of his guilty heart.
The night passed without farther in
terruptions. At dawn, the Maroon
arose before his companion, lie pro
ceeded to his treasure which he now
prepared to have in readiness to convey,
without being suspected, on board the
vessel. The richer pearls were hidden
in his bosom, and in the folds of his
garments. The rest were stored away ;
carefully in the bottom of one of the
largest baskets which he had found in
° • i
Iris cavern, and which he pretended had
been picked up on the shore. A few
bananas were laid upon the top to pre
vent inquiry. His arrangements were
all complete before Maria awakened.
With the sunrise they had both
emerged upon the beach. But the sun
rose faintly and struggled on his course
against numerous clouds. The wind
came in sudden gusts sweeping the
ocean into temporary anger. The lulls
between were not less unpromising;
and, to the old seaman, the signs- were
pregnant of one of those wild and ca
pricious changes of the weather, which
so frequently converted into a scene of
THIRD VOLUME.—NO, 0 WHOLE NO. 106.
wrath and horror, the otherwise sweet
serene of these latitudes. But Maria
did not heed these signs, in the con
sciousness of the attainment of her de
sires. Lopez was too anxious to leave
the neighborhood of the poor Carib
bean damsel, about whom his heart
constantly reproached itself; and those
whom we left on shipboard were quite
too happy in the enjoyment of their un
frequent saturnalia, to disturb them
selves with anticipations of the future.
It may have been a fancy only, but,
looking back at the moment ere he stept
into the boat which was to convey him
from the islet, did he catch a glimpse
of the slender form of Amaya among
the palms, with her arm outstretched,
and pointing to the cavern t A second
and more earnest glance revealed him
nothing.
Safely within the ship, his treasures
made secure, and with thtj example.of
all around him persuading him toliceh
tiousness, Lopez de Levya soon gave
way to excesses which contributed to
make him forgetful of the damsel he
had deserted. He was received with
half maudlin affection by Linares and
the crew. The coarser pleasures in
which these were indulging were trans
ferred, with some qualifying refine
ments, to the cabin of Velasquez. Here, !
from flagons ofgold and silver, did our
“ Maroon” quaff the intoxicating bev
erage to the health of Maria de Pache
co, and the prosperous fortunes of the i
Dian de Burgos. The day passed in
prolonged indulgence. The excesses
which might have revolted Maria and
her companion at another time, were
now only the outpourings of a natural
exultation which was due to a sense of
newly-acquired freedom, and the acqui
sition of novel luxuries. The gradual j
progress of the hours brought on in- j
crease of wind which finally grew to
storm. But this occasioned no disquiet
and did not lesson the enjoyments of
any of the parties. Linares, like a vet
eran seaman, full of wine as he was.
first took care to see that his vessel
was secure, lie was in a good-anchor
age. His ship was stripped to the
storm, and he had no reason to appre
hend that she would drag her anchor
under any pressure of the gale. A good
watch was set, and, wishing for more
freedom in his revels, he withdrew from
the cabin to the more genial, if more
rough association of the crew.
xxvi r.
Night came on—a night of storm
and many terrors. Maria de Pacheco
and our “ Maroon” were not wholly in
sensible to its dangers. At moments,
when the pressure of the wind was
most severely felt, they would pause
in the midst of their delights, and think
of the solid security of the chamber in
the rock. But the revel went on with
out reserve. The rich flagon stood be
fore them in the cabin. They were
alone with each other. They lived for
each other, and there was no tyranic
power at hand to arrest them as they
carried the intoxicating draught of rap
ture to their lips. No longer conscious
of the proximity of other eyes, Lopez
de Levya requited the caresses of his
companion with an ardency quite equal
to her own. They spoke of their mu
tual delights. They declared their mu
tual hopes of home, and in the increas
ing exultation which he felt in his secu
rity, and the increasing influence of the
wine which he had quaffed, the “ Ma
roon” revealed to Maria the wealth of
pearl which were contained in his bos
om and his baskets. He poured forth
his milk-white, but transparent trea
sures, into her hap, and wound the
lengthened strands about her neck.—
llis form resting upon one knee before
her, her head stooping to his embrace,
neither of them perceived, for several
moments, that, while they were most
drunk with delight, thev had a visitor.
The door of the cabin had opened si
lently upon them, and the deserted
damsel of the Caribbees, standing erect,
with hands drooping at her side, and
eyes staring intently, but vacantly and
wildly upon them, now stood, behold
ing, herself for a while unseen, their al
most infantile caresses. Stern and
mournful did she stand, surveying this
scene of tenderness, which every pulse
of her passionate young heart taught
her was indulged at her expense. She
neither sighed, nor spoke, nor moved,
after her first entrance. Was it an in
stinct of their own souls which taught
them that another and a hostile spirit
was at hand, and which made the proud
Spanish woman start to her feet, with
a sudden terror; while the “ Maroon,”
sinking lower, upon both knees, looked
round him hi shame and trepidation at
the unexpected presence ? To him the
deserted woman gave but a single
glance, but that declared every thing in
their mutual histories. Advancing to
ward Maria de Pacheco, before her pur
pose could be divined, she suddenly
tore the strands of pearl from the bared
neck and bosom to which they seemed
beautifully kindred, then, dashing them
to the floor, trambled them under foot,
and fled from the cabin with a shriek
which sounded like that of doom in the
ears of the “ Maroon.” He had appre
hended a worse danger when he saw
her so suddenly approach Maria. He
had seen in the grasp of the Indian dam
sel, the same broad and heavy cleaver
of stone, with which he had beheld the
priestess, on the night of her first en
trance to the cave, sever the long sable
tresses from her neck, and devote them,
in sacrifice, on behalf of her future des
tinies. That she would use this fear
ful instrument on the forehead of the
Spanish woman, was the spontaneous
fear in the heart of Lopez ; but, at that
moment, so suddenly had he been sur
prised by her presence, and so greatly
was he confounded by his guilt and ter
ror. she might have safely executed the
deed of death had murder been her pur
pose.
Inflamed with wine, stung by the in
dignity to which she had been subject
ed, Maria de Pacheco recovered from
her astonishment much sooner than her
paramour from his fears. Confronting
him with a fierce and flashing glance
from her dark imperial eye, she de
manded, in choking accents, the expla
nation of the scene. But, filled with
terror, partly intoxicated, and wholly
confused and bewildered by the condi
tion in which he found himself, the un
meaning mutterings from his lips gave
no satisfaction to the eager and heated
inquirer. With a speech full of equal
scorn and suspicion, she flung away
from his approach, and darted out upon
the deck of the vessel in pursuit of the
stranger. There, all was storm and
darkness. The black masses of night
seemed to crowd and accumulate before
her path, filling up the passages, and
preventing her progress. The vessel
pitched awfully. The woman could
scarcely keep her feet, though quite as
much accustomed to the motion of the
ship as any of the seamen. She felt
her way along the bulwarks. She saw
nothing, heard nothing—nothing but
the awful roaring of the winds as they
fell upon the waves in the fury of a
mortal conflict. She made her way to
the prow. The excellent look-out of
veteran seamen whom Linares had pro
vided for the watch was nowhere to be
seen. She called to them below, and
a couple of drunken sailors scrambled
up and tottered toward her. They had
seen nothing. She could see nothing.
Nothing was to be heard. Yet, more
vigilant, more sober, and less passion
ate faculties might have detected, even
while she made her inquiries, certain
dull and heavy strokes, which, at pauses
in the storm, seemed to arise from the
deep, and to run along the <;able. Lit
tle did Lopez de Levya divine the fa
tal purpose for which the Caribbean
damsel carried with her that hatchet of
stone.
Impatient, with a brain full of suspi
cions, and a heart severed by disap
pointment, Maria de Pacheco returned
to the cabin, leaving the two half drunk
en sailors in possession of the watch.
They might have been, and probably
were, famous watchers at all other
times. But the liquors of Velasquez
had been equally potent and tempting,
and they were still provided with a
flask of the delicious beverage. They
drank and sang together in defiance of
the storm. What was the storm to
them l The Dian de Burgos was as
tight a creature as ever swam the seas,
and hard and firm were the sands, in
which their anchors found their res f . —
Besides, since they came on deck, the
storm seemed somewhat to have subsi
ded. The seas were not so high. The
ship no longer plunged with that pee
vish and cumbersome motion, like a
high mettled horse under the discipline
ot a cruel curb, but rose easily and
gently with the play of the billows, as
if she were smoothly posting, with a
fair gale, along accustomed pathways
of the sea. Ihe observations of our
watch were of this satisfactory com
plexion. It never occurred to them as
possible that the ship really was in mo
tion—that she no longer opposed the
resistance of her mighty bulk to the
winds and waters, but obeyed placidly
the impulses which their united powers
gave. They little dreamed how much
of their consolation, was drawn from
causes of their greatest danger.
XXVIII.
Meanwhile, in the cabin of the Dian
de Burgos, the tempest raged as fierce
ly as it did without, and entirely ex
cluded the terrors of wind and sea.—
The ready instincts of Maria de Pache
co had conducted her to much of the
secret of her paramour. She now re
called his reluctance to conduct her
over the island, —the art, which, when
on the eve of discovery, had made a
merit of necessity, and led her into the
recesses of the cavern—the uneasiness
which seemed heedless of her endear
ments —the disquiet which they seemed
j to occasion—his disappearance at mid
| night —and the pearl, the treasure, of
I which he was so unaccountably pos
j sessed. The sudden appearance of the
Indian damsel revealed the whole se
cret, and led to conjectures which made