weighed his anchor, and proceeded to sea.

The orders received by the lieutenant of the cutter, although not
precisely specifying, still implying, that he was to bring back his
cargo alive, as soon as his Majesty's cutter _Lively_ was fairly out at
sea the hatches were taken off, and the impressed men allowed to go on
deck in the proportion of about one half at a time, two sailors with
drawn cutlasses still remaining sentry at the coombings of the hatchway,
in case of any discontented fellow presuming to dispute such lawful
authority.

Newton Forster was happy to be once more on deck; so much had he
suffered during his few hours of confinement, that he really felt
grateful for the indulgence. The sky was bright, and the cutter was
dashing along the coast with the wind, two points free, at the rate of
seven or eight miles an hour. She was what sailors term rather _a wet
one_, and as she plunged through the short waves the sea broke
continually over her bows and chesstree, so that there was no occasion
to draw water for purification. Newton washed his face and head, and
felt quite revived as he inhaled the fresh breeze, and watched the coast
as the vessel rapidly passed each headland in her course. All around him
were strangers, and no one appeared inclined to be communicative; even
the most indifferent, the most stoical, expressed their ideas in
disjointed sentences; they could not but feel that their projects and
speculations had been overthrown by a captivity so anomalous with their
boasted birthright.

"Where are we going?" inquired Newton of a man who stood next him,
silently watching the passing foam created by the rapid course of the
vessel.