cessant fears, her pale face spoke to her, and James Playfair endeavored his utmost to ease her mind.
"I have all confidence in Crockston," said he, "he is a devoted servant, as you must know better than I do, Miss Jenny. You must make yourself quite at ease; believe me, in three days you will be folded in your father's arms."
"Ah! Mr. James," cried the young girl, "how can I ever repay you for such devotion? How shall we ever be able to thank you?"
"I will tell you when we are in English seas," replied the young captain.
Jenny raised her tearful face to him for a moment, then her eyelids drooped, and she went back to her cabin.
James Playfair hoped that the young girl would know nothing of her father's terrible situation until he was in safety, but she was apprized of the truth by the involuntary indiscretion of a sailor.
The reply from the Richmond cabinet had arrived by a courier who had been able to pass the line of outposts; the reply contained Jonathan Halliburtt's death warrant. The news of the approaching execution was not long in spreading through the town, and it was brought on board by one of the sailors of the Dolphin; the man told the captain, without thinking that Miss Halliburtt was within hearing; the young girl uttered a piercing cry, and fell unconscious on the deck. James Playfair carried her to her cabin, but the most assiduous care was necessary to restore her to life.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw the young captain, who, with a finger on his lips, enjoined absolute silence. With difficulty she repressed the outburst of her grief, and James Playfair, leaning towards her, said gently, "Jenny, in two hours your father will be in safety near you, or I shall have perished in endeavoring to save him!"
Then he left the cabin, saying to himself, "And now he must be carried off at any price, since I must pay for his liberty with my own life and that of my crew."
The hour for action had arrived, the loading of the cotton cargo had been finished since morning; in two hours the ship would be ready to start. James Playfair had left the North Commercial Wharf and gone into the roadstead, so that he was ready to make use of the tide, which would be high at nine o'clock in the evening.
