It produced a wonderful
effect, for the odd figure wheeled about and started off at something
like a run. Sukey brought his gun to his shoulder and fired.
The report of the gun was the signal for the riflemen under Lieutenant
Willard to charge, and all gave chase to the spectre.
"Don't fire another shot!" cried Fernando. The spectre had not gone a
hundred paces, before it stumbled over a loose stone and fell. In a
moment, Terrence Malone had seized it and cried:
"Huzzah! boys, I've caught the divil himsilf."
The spectre proved to be a very material like person in the form of a
tall sailor with a white jacket and cap and blue trousers. His
superabundance of arms could be accounted for by the long, white oar,
which he had been carrying on his shoulder, and which he explained was
his only weapon, offensive or defensive.
"Where are you from?" asked Fernando.
"I am from his majesty's frigate _Xenophon_," he answered.
"Are you a deserter?" asked Fernando.
"Yes, sir; I am an American by birth, and will die before I raise my
hand against my country. To-day, because I refused to work at the guns,
I was arrested, to be flogged in the morning, hung or shot at the
pleasure of Captain Snipes."
"I believe I know that voice--" began Captain Stevens.
"Holy golly! it am Massa St. Mark!" yelled a voice behind them, and Job
tore his way through the crowd and, flinging his arms about the sailor,
cried: "Massa St.
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