RED CAP AND BLUE JACKET.

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PROLOGUE.

NNO DOMINI 1781, the 25th day of January. It is a coral islet in the South Pacific, a circular ridge of rock enclosing a tranquil lagoon, the bosom of which heaves with a languid rhythm responsive to the long swell of billows which break in monotonous thunder on the shore, and crowd a mass of water into the narrow opening which connects the lagoon with the boundless waste of ocean. The rock is clothed with luxuriant vegetation, and groves of palms wave their feathery foliage in the breeze. On the southern segment of the belt of coral the disintegration of the calcareous substance of the rock has formed a tiny beach white as snow and glancing with dazzling brightness in the sunshine. Here the mutilated skeleton of a ship lies high and dry. A rude hut, constructed of planking and débris of the wreck, and thatched with palm-fronds, stands near the edge of the lagoon in a spot sheltered from the prevailing winds. On the highest summit of the rock appears one of the ship's spars with a pennant fluttering at the top.

On the afternoon of this 25th day of January a man

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was standing beside this improvised flag-staff or signalling-station, and sweeping the horizon with a telescope. His motionless and statuesque attitude bespoke the calm endurance of one habituated to stoical passivity by repeated disappointments. His tattered and faded habiliments still bore traces of having been the uniform of a naval officer. A sword hung by his side. Another man-for he had a companion-was lying prone on the ground beside the hut, and gazing with the same motionless intensity into the pellucid waters of the lagoon.

This natural aquarium presented indeed a lovely sight. The sea-flags were swaying gracefully to and fro, long strips of crimson dulse undulated with the movement of the water, the coral-tree dipped its green leaves and bunches of scarlet blossoms into the water with every gust of wind, while purple mullets and goldfish were darting with incessant and capricious motion through the glassy element, and gorgeous sea-anemones flaunted their pink and snowy filaments.

At last the recumbent figure rose with a longdrawn sigh and entered the hut. He put some fresh cocoanut husks upon the fire that was smouldering on a slab of rock, and looked into the pot suspended gipsy-fashion over it. As he did so he muttered, as it seemed, unconsciously to himself, like one impelled to self-converse in the dearth of social intercourse. He looked for some time at the sodden mass of kaloroot that had been left to stew slowly, and then, with an abrupt gesture, took out of his pocket a silver whistle, and blew a shrill blast as a signal to his

companion. The latter, after a considerable interval appeared, breathing somewhat quickly, and with a far-away look in his eyes.

"Another of your savoury dishes, Ralph," he said in a harsh tone.

"Another of the same, Nicholas," said his companion. "It does n't take long to box the compass of our cookery. Yams, kalo-root, cocoanut, and their permutations through this eternity of time which mortals call a year."

"We are not sufficiently inventive, methinks. There should be plenty of edible fishes.”

"The last we tried nearly poisoned us, if you remember."

"They were too beautiful to be good. 'Tis a natural parable, perchance," rejoined Nicholas, with a mocking ring in his voice.

“Nay, it is the wise parsimony of nature. In these desolate regions there are no mouths to eat wholesome fish."

"Nor eyes to admire their beauty."

"The old controversy, Nicholas," said Ralph with a smile. "Be sure they are beautiful to the great Artist." "Tush! their brilliant colours are meant to make them attractive to their destroyers. Their beauty is their destruction. Another parable!"

"Attractive to their destroyers? More probably to their mates. A harmless parable this time! "

So saying, he ladled out a quantity of the stringy substance into a cocoanut-shell, handed it to his companion, and then helped himself.

According to all sound social principles," said

Nicholas, with an unpleasant smile, "I ought to do all the cooking, instead of taking it in turn.”

"The conventions of society do not exist here," said Ralph. "You and I are now strictly equal in the eye of nature. You might draw a diameter through the island, and insist upon my keeping within my proper limits. I a peer of the realm, forsooth! What realm? Assuredly not that of nature. I should indeed get a new scutcheon-a row of sweet-potatoes azure, a palm-branch pendant, a pot sable, and so forth! And for the motto or device-what say you?' Immersabilis undis,' or ' qui meruit palmam ferat.'”

"You can still be merry, it appears," said Nicholas. Very deadly merriment; much as a prisoner might clank his fetters for amusement."

"I wonder if we shall ever taste again the roastbeef of old England,” said Nicholas, after a long silence, and mechanically turning his head round towards the flag-staff.

"Out, mocking fiend!" cried Ralph, melodramatically. "Don't recall the sweet visions of the past which hover through the odorous steams of hospitable inns and cook-shops. Dost remember the George at Dover, Nicholas, and mine host who was a standing certificate of good cheer? I' faith, I understand the nobility of a baron of beef now. I would exchange my patent for one."

"You would think differently if a ship hove in sight," said Nicholas. Ralph was silent for a few

moments, and then said—

"Think you I care for barren honours, my good But for my wife and my sweet child”

cousin?

He stopped short, shivered spasmodically, while a choking sob rose in his throat, and his eyes filled with sudden tears.

Nicholas knitted his brows, and drummed his fingers nervously on the rough table at which they

sat.

"I am thankful I have neither wife nor child to think of," he said.

'Nay, Nicholas, 't is the thought of my two loved ones that keeps me from absolute despair. I must live, I shall live, and see them again. God in His mercy"

Pooh, pooh," exclaimed Nicholas, in a tone of cold contempt; "it is all chance. Think you that we are of any consequence in this boundless universe? No, no; I hold with good old Homer: Jove is away from home, dining with the blameless Æthiopians.”

"It is a poor creed, Nicholas, and makes poor men; for if we could suppose the Supreme Being careless of any of His creatures, it would be an argument for human selfishness. Why should we not also dine with the Ethiopians? Nay, nay; not a sparrow falls without His permission."

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Why does He let the sparrow fall then?" retorted Nicholas, with a gruff laugh.

"Because it is time, my short-sighted cousin. Think of the joys a poor sparrow has-its ecstasy of buoyant flight, its careering freedom-ay, we poor prisoners can faintly imagine that. The sparrow has its day of sunny bliss. It would be cruel to condemn it to a helpless, feeble-pinioned age."

Nicholas laughed boisterously.