Clarke Courier

THE DIVER'S STRATAGEM.
BY DR. JOSEPH SHARPE.

In 18-, I found myself aboard the brig Mermaid, bowling along through the Persian Gulf on her way to Constantinople.

There were two passengers-a stately, fierce-looking Turk, and a young Circassian girl, whose surpassing beauty it were impossible to perfectly describe.

Her motions were as graceful as those of the crested waves that threw rainbowed spray around our bows; her skin was as white as pearl; the cheeks just tinged with a delicate rose color, so that in the sunlight they looked almost transparent. Her eyes were almond-shaped, of a dark, bewitching, blue color, and her hair-her shining, glorious hair-fell almost to her feet, in thick, undulating masses.

Meek and melancholy, she would stand by the side of the Turk her tapering fingers interlocked across her breast, the blue eyes often suffused with tears.

How could she help feeling melancholy? She had been sold to the Turk by her own father; sold for the Turk's harem; snatched away from a young man whom she tenderly loved-a stately, handsome pearl diver, the bravest and most skillful on the Persian coast, near which the girl had lived.

When I learned this from our steward, an inquisitive, talkative Frenchman, I must confess that my heart was stirred with pity for the unfortunate damsel, and I felt that it would be no more than right for some good-hearted person to snatch the girl from the Turk and restore her to the arms of her lover. This, however, seemed an impossibility, as she was bought and paid for, and the lynx-eyed Turk followed her carefully wherever she went.

We had gained considerably on our course, when, to windward, we beheld, one morning, a gigantic cloud, shaped like a human being, striding along toward us at a great rate. It whirled round and round as it advanced; presently, off went its head; a flash of lightning darted up from its trunk, and then-then-gods! what a crash-what a whirling-what a humming

As far as we could see to windward, the water was one mass of boiling, bubbling, hissing spray.

Then there was a strange rumbling roar, as of an earthquake under the sea; and vast columns of water, tossed far upward, mingled with the sound and rock of the storm. The captain had ordered every stitch of canvass taken in, so, when the tempest struck us, away we went, driving along before it on our beam-ends, under bare poles. On our beam-ends, with the water plowing over us, almost engulfing us, with every timber cracking, and the masts swaying and snapping like dry twigs.

For two hours we were thus driven along, bewildered, almost blinded, by flying rack and spray, when, the tempest having slightly abated, we were enabled to move about the deck.

The captain loosened his topsails, and endeavored to edge up close to the wind.

Vain the attempt; the brig would not come up, and we were rapidly driven, with wind and current, back toward the port which we had left a few days before.

The Circassian girl came up, and when she divined what was taking place, her blue eyes shone with joy. In broken English she explained to me, during a few minutes' conversation which I held with her while the Turk was below, filling his pipe, that she believed her lover, Gustave Morono, would start in pursuit of the brig in his little fishing "smack" the moment he should hear that she had been carried away; and she hoped that now she would soon fall in with him. Even as she spoke, an erratic blast struck the brig. Down went the vessel, making a furious plunge. There was a loud, snapping sound, and over went the mainmast by the board. The wreck was cleared with axes, but the brig now rolled wildly, shipping enormous seas every time.

"Man the pumps!" was the order. It was executed: the men worked hard, but the water gained on us. In a few hours the craft was waterlogged, so that we would be obliged to abandon her.

A six-oared cutter-our only boat-was lowered, provisions were deposited there, and we quitted the little Mermaid with feelings of deep regret.

The Turk kept grumbling and growling as the boat was whirled wildly along before the blast, and held on firmly to the arm of his fair property, as if now fearful that she might escape him.

There were fifteen men in all in the cutter, and many lowering glances were directed toward the Turk by the sailors. They all sympathized with the maiden, and wished something would happen to free her from her purchaser.

The captain, however, who was under obligations to the Turk-a wealthy merchant-for many small favors, in the way of trade and presents, would reprove the hands sharply for their behavior. He was a Russian, and his words were delivered in the harsh tones peculiar to the people of that nation. His speech grated upon the ear of the pretty Circassian girl, accustomed to the rich, musical language of her own countrymen. More than once she raised her hand to her little pink ears, while a slight frown contracted her brow.

All night we were tossed upon a wild sea, expecting every moment to be swamped, but at daylight the gale abated considerably, and we saw land right ahead.

Something else we saw, too; a small fishing smack shooting along toward us, close-hauled, like a bird on the wing.

"Gustave's boat!" exclaimed the girl, delighted, clapping her small hands: "t'ank, oh, t'ank, a thousand times de storm for dis!"

The Turk frowned darkly, and drew his ugly-looking scimitar. He knew enough of English to understand the girl: and with angry motions of his weapon, he now intimated that he would chop off her lover's head if he attempted to take her away from him.

"No, you won't!" shouted a sturdy English tar, springing to his feet; "fair play--fair fight for the girl. What say you, mates?"

"Ay, ay, ay!" was heard on all sides.

The fishing-boat came nearer every moment, and soon we were all taken aboard, when with a glad cry, the Circassian girl rushed into her lover's arms.

The Turk advanced, with fire in his eye.

"A fair fight!" shouted several sailors, interposing

"No, no," cried the captain: "the girl belongs to the Turk; he purchased her."

"No, difference, no difference!" cried all hands. "They must fight for her. He had no right to buy her."

As there was no help for it, the captain was obliged to witness what followed.

First, the young pearl-diver, gently putting the girl to one side, drew a long knife; then he struck the Turk over the cheek with his left hand. The merchant, flaming with rage, dashed toward him, and the combat commenced, within about fifty yards of the very coast where Gustave was wont to dive for his pearls. He had tacked, the moment he picked up the party, and was now running along almost in the shadow of a low rock crowned with verdure, and projecting far into the water.

The knives of the combatants clashed again and again; many cuts were given and received on both sides. The Turk grew more furious every moment. Finally he aimed at the young man's neck a terrible blow, which must have taken off his head but for his leaping quickly backward. This brought him close to the gangway, when he succeeded in inflicting a sharp stab under the Turk's right armpit, causing him to drop his scimitar overboard. The Mohammedan, however, now drawing a pistol with his left hand, was about discharging it at his enemy's head, when the maiden threw herself on her lover's breast to protect him.

This caused his foot to slip, and the rail being low, overboard he went, with the girl in his arms.

With a curse, the Turk discharged his pistol after them; he was a "good shot," who seldom missed, having had much practice with firearms in his youth.

"You have shot him!" exclaimed the captain, as the spectators vainly waited for the reappearance of the lovers. "Shot him, and the girl, too."

One-two-three-four-five minutes-the longest period a diver can remain under water, elapsed, and still they rose not to view.

The Turk, with lowering brow, smoked his pipe, and gravely declared he was sorry he had paid so much both in money and blood (he was covered from head to foot with slight stabs) for a girl, to be cheated out of her in the end. The sailors, however, shaking their heads and rolling their quids, solemnly averred that it was better the girl should be the property of Davy Jones than that of a heathen Turk.

Four days after, having vainly hunted for a vessel to carry me to Constantinople, who should I meet aboard an American craft, just getting ready to sail for home, but Gustave, the pearl diver, and the Circassian girl.

I expressed my surprise, when Gustave explained that, after going overboard, he had swum under water, diver fashion -to a little bay ashore, sheltered from the view of those aboard the fishing vessel by a jutting rock.

Under cover of the night he had then made his way to an American vessel, resolved to carry his beautiful prize to a free land. I have to add that the vessel safely reached New York harbor, and that I witnessed the marriage of Gustave with the pretty Circassian.