converging slightly towards the sea, beneath her counter.  Glossy hammock-cloths concealed the persons of those who were on the deck, while the close bulwarks gave the brigantine the air of a vessel equipped for war.  Still the eye of Ludlow ran curiously along the whole extent of the two straw-colored lines, seeking in vain some evidence of the weight and force of her armament.  If she had ports at all, they were so ingeniously concealed as to escape the keenest of his glances.  The nature of the rig has been already described.  Partaking of the double character of brig and schooner, the sails and spars of the forward-mast being of the former, while those of the after-mast were of the latter construction, seamen have given to this class of shipping the familiar name of Hermaphrodites.  But, though there might be fancied, by this term, some want of the proportions that constitute seemliness, it will be remembered that the departure was only from some former rule of art, and that no violence had been done to those universal and permanent laws which constitute the charm of nature.  The models of glass, which are seen representing the machinery of a ship, are not more exact or just in their lines than were the cordage and spars of this brigantine.  Not a rope varied from its true direction; not a sail, but it resembled the neat folds of some prudent house wife; not a mast or a yard was there, but it rose into the air, or stretched its arms, with the most fastidious attention to symmetry.  All was airy, fanciful, and full of grace, seeming to lend to the fabric a character of unreal lightness and speed.  As the boat drew near her side, a change of the air caused the buoyant bark to turn, like a vane, in its current; and as the long and pointed proportions of her head-gear came into view, Ludlow saw beneath the bowsprit an image that might be supposed to make, by means of allegory, some obvious allusions to the character of the vessel.  A female form, fashioned with the carver’s best skill, stood on the projection of the cut-water.  The figure rested lightly on the ball of one foot, while the other was suspended in an easy attitude, resembling the airy posture of the famous Mercury of the Bolognese.  The drapery was fluttering, scanty, and of a light sea-green tint, as if it had imbibed a hue from the element beneath.  The face was of that dark bronzed color which human ingenuity has, from time immemorial, adopted as the best medium to portray a superhuman expression.  The locks were dishevelled, wild, and rich; the eye, full of such a meaning as might be fancied to glitter in the organs of a sorceress; while a smile so strangely meaning and malign played about the mouth, that the young sailor started, when it first met his view as if a living thing had returned his look.

“Witchcraft and necromancy!” grumbled the Alderman, as this extraordinary image came suddenly on his vision also.  “Here is a brazen-looking hussy and one who might rob the Queen’s treasury, itself, without remorse!  Your eyes are young, Patroon; what is that the minx holds so impudently above her head?”