CHAPTER XIX.
"O'er the glad waters of the dark-blue sea.
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free.
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire and behold our home." THE CORSAIR.
One is never fully aware of the extent of the movement that agitates the bosom of the ocean until fairly subject to its action himself, when indeed we all feel its power and reason closely on its dangers.

The first pitch of his boat told Bluewater that the night threatened to be serious.

As the lusty oarsmen bent to their stroke, the barge rose on a swell, dividing the foam that glanced past it like a marine Aurora Borealis, and then plunged into the trough as if descending to the bottom.

It required several united and vigorous efforts to force the little craft from its dangerous vicinity to the rocks, and to get it in perfect command.

This once done, however, the well-practised crew urged the barge slowly but steadily ahead.
"A dirty night!--a dirty night!" muttered Bluewater, unconsciously to himself; "we should have had a wild berth, had we rode out this blow, at anchor.