shore as the sloop sailed from it, and which the cunning Frenchmen averred had been fired at them.

Admiral Walker was fully satisfied now that the pilots were all right, and he resolved to trust them. He told them to stay aboard his vessel and give directions in regard to sailing the fleet.

"Admiral Walker, I beg pardon for this interference," said Lieutenant Stevens. "Be assured that it is my love for my country that prompts me to do what to you may be unseemly in a provincial officer. I must speak. These men whom you trust are spies. I know something of the coast, have listened to their directions, and know if followed they will drive you right on the rocks and sink the fleet."

The admiral gazed on the impudent young American who had dared express an opinion contrary to his own. His eyes flashed fire; the backbone of his sharp nose seemed to grow higher and higher, while his lips parted in rage, and his breath came in sharp, quick gasps. The storm burst in all its fury on the head of the young provincial. How dared he, an American by birth, and only a provincial, instruct an English nobleman in the art of war? His acts were presumptuous, and he would not listen to him longer. He ordered him to be gone and thank fortune that he did not have him whipped with the cat-o-nine-tails.

Quite crestfallen, the young lieutenant turned away and, with a sigh, retired aft. He uttered no complaint; but in his heart he thought:

"What stupendous folly this is! The admiral is mad and will ruin the fleet."

Haughtily rejecting the advice of all the New England pilots, the admiral listened to the Frenchmen, who had an interest in misleading him. His fleet was soon after driving on the shore. On the night of the 2d of September, just as he was going to bed, the captain of the vessel came down to the admiral's cabin and said:

"Land is in sight. We are in great danger." "I don't believe you," the haughty admiral declared, and, coolly undressing, he went to bed.

The officer, disgusted, turned away, declaring that the admiral was mad. A few moments later, Lieutenant Elmer Stevens rushed down exclaiming:

"For the Lord's sake, come on deck, or we shall be lost! I see the breakers all around us."

"You silly Americans are frightened at shadows," declared the admiral, leisurely putting on his gown and slippers. "We English officers are not to be frightened at trifles." He ascended to the deck, where he at once saw the imminent peril to all the fleet and crew. His orders to save the fleet came too late. The vessels were driven on

the rock-bound shore and eight of them lost, and with them perished on that night almost a thousand men.

In the midst of the utmost confusion which prevailed, the cry went upon the night air:

"We are betrayed! The Frenchmen have betrayed us!"

"Where are they?"

Search was made; but the five voyageurs were too shrewd to be caught. They had embarked in a boat and pulled away in the dense fog. The admiral fired a pistol in the direction they had gone, and some of the marines discharged their guns into the fog and darkness, but without effect, and the Frenchmen were soon beyond reach of their shots.

The ship of the admiral was saved from the rocks; but not a hundred cables away could be heard the cries of poor wretches whose vessel had gone down on the hidden reefs.

"Man the boats and go to their rescue," cried the admiral.

Lieutenant Stevens was one of the first to descend to a boat. Seizing the helm, with six stout oarsmen he glided away toward the cries. One poor drowning wretch was picked up, and then there came rolling down upon them one of those terrible, dense Newfoundland fogs, which

seem to benumb the body and bewilder the brain. The sailors paused, leaning on their oars, and Elmer, who steered the boat, knew not which way to guide the prow. All about could be heard the

wild angry roar of waters.

"God save us, shipmates, or we will be lost!" one poor fellow groaned.

It seemed as if they were being drawn right into a maelstrom, and that escape was impossible.

To turn from one wild roaring cataract was only to face another. Death and pitch darkness surrounded them on every side. So dark and so dense was the fog, that the men could not see each other, though but two or three feet away.

Lieutenant Stevens, in this strait, remained silent for a moment, listening to the roar all about them. To return to the ships was as impossible as to go any other direction, for nothing could be seen. Suddenly he cried:

"Starboard all!"

The sailors, who awaited for some order, responded, and in a twinkling the boat shot through a channel with breakers dashing so close on either side, that they felt the cold spray on their faces. Once through this dangerous passage, they were in smoother water, and pulled for some distance in the pitch darkness. At last, the lieutenant ordered them to desist, and again all rested on

their oars and listened. Like a raging storm on their larboard and in their wake, came the dashing of angry waters until they were almost deafened.

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Whither shall we go, lieutenant?" asked one trembling oarsman.

After a few moments, he ordered the men to pull forward, though some declared it was taking them beyond reach of the vessels.

At last a land

breeze sweeping over the water, partially lifted the dense fog, and one of the oarsmen cried:

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A light! a light!"

"Where away?" asked the officer.

แ On our starboard."

Dimly shining through the remaining fog, which had grown less dense, was a dull red light. At first they were at a loss to make out what it was. Some thought it a ship's lantern; but the young officer declared it was too bright to be a lantern, and insisted that it came from the shore.

"Perchance it is the moon rising from the sea, suggested one of the sailors.

But the lieutenant insisted that the light was not in the east. Darkness and shadows breed superstition, and the sailors were ready to declare that the light was from some sea wraith or monster, luring them on to ruin; but Elmer kept the