CHAPTER I.
Far on th' horizon's verge appears a speck-- A spot--a mast--a sail--an armed deck! Their little bark her men of watch descry, And ampler canvas woos the wind from high.
LORD BYRON.
On a bright day in the summer of 1643, a light pleasure-boat shot gaily across the harbor of Boston, laden with a merry party, whose cheerful voices were long heard, mingling with the ripple of the waves, and the music of the breeze, which swelled the canvas, and bore them swiftly onward.

A group of friends, who had collected on the shore to witness their departure, gradually dispersed, till, at length, a single individual only remained, whose eyes still followed the track of the vessel, though his countenance wore that abstracted air, which shewed his thoughts were detached from the passing scene.

He seemed quite unconscious of the silence that succeeded this transient bustle, and a low murmur, which soon begun to spread along the shore, was equally disregarded.

Suddenly a confused sound of many voices burst upon his ear, and hurried steps, as of persons in alarm and agitation, at once aroused him from his reverie.

At the same moment, a hand was laid heavily on his shoulder, and a voice exclaimed, with earnestness, "Are you insensible, Arthur Stanhope, at a moment, when every man's life is in jeopardy ?" "My father!" replied the young man, "what is the meaning of all this excitement and confusion ?" "Do you not know ?" demanded the other; "a strange sail is approaching our peaceful coast; and, see! they have unfurled the standard of popish France." "It is true, by heaven!" exclaimed young Stanhope; "and, look, father, yonder boat is flying before them; this is no time to gaze idly on; we must hasten to their rescue." The vessel, which produced so much alarm, was, in fact, a French ship of considerable force, apparently well manned, and armed for offensive or defensive operations.