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CHAPTER XLIV.
"Of winds and waves the strangely mingled sounds
Ride heavily, the night wind's hollow sweep,
Mocking the sounds of human lamentation."
Bertram.
"The be all, and the end all here."
Shakespeare.
Two hours had passed, the fierce crimson of the west had burnt itself away, and the huge black clouds had gathered in darker array, broken by gleams of meteoric light. The moon had risen, but with a dim haze around her troubled circle, and her face was only seen at intervals, so rapidly did the hurrying vapours sweep by. The fresh sea-breeze had sunk to rest, yet the billows heaved; and every now and then a warm gust, unnatural and brief, stirred the sails, and at each return with increased strength. Most of its inmates were sleeping in that ship, worn out with the toils of the day, and still more with the sorrow of parting, dreaming of that roof which would never shelter their hours of rest again. But some of the seamen watched the lowering heaven with unquiet eyes; and their captain knew that for him there was no
