Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 429 | Page 6

a mile off shore. She is making desperate efforts to clear the point, but
she won't do it. She is ours, lads!'
'Give me the glass!' exclaimed Pierre rising. The other gave him the
telescope. 'Faith, a splendid brig!' said the patriarch with a sinister
smile--'the finest windfall we have had for many a season. Jean, you
must out with the cow, or perhaps it may escape us.'
The cow was an abominable invention which Pierre had taught his
comrades. A cow was tied to a stake, and a huge ship's lantern fastened
to its horns. This the animal tossed about in the hope of disengaging
himself, and in so doing presented the appearance of a ship riding at
anchor--all that could be seen on such nights being the moving light.
By this means had many a ship been lured to destruction, in the vain
hope of finding a safe anchoring-ground. The cow, which was always
ready, was brought out, and the trick resorted to, after which the
wreckers waited patiently for the result.
The Indiaman was evidently coming on shore, and all the efforts of her
gallant crew seemed powerless to save her. Her almost naked masts,
and her dark hull, with a couple of lanterns, could now plainly be
distinguished as she rose and fell on the waters. Suddenly she seemed

to become motionless, though quivering in every fibre, and then a huge
wave washed clean over her decks.
'She has struck on the Mistral Rock,' said Pierre. 'Good! she will be in
pieces in an hour, and every atom will come on shore!'
'They are putting out the boats,' observed Jean.
The wreckers clutched their weapons. If the crew landed in safety, their
hopes were gone. But no crew had for many years landed in safety on
that part of the coast: by some mysterious fatality, they had always
perished.
Presently, three boats were observed pulling for the shore, and coming
towards the sandy beach at the mouth of the gorge. They were
evidently crammed full of people, and pulling all for one point. The
boats approached: they were within fifty yards of the shore, and pulling
still abreast. They had entered the narrow gut of water leading to the
gorge, and were already out of reach of the huge waves, which a minute
before threatened to submerge them. The wreckers extinguished the
lantern on the cow's horn. There was no chance of the boats being able
to put back to sea.
Suddenly a figure pushed through the crowd, and approached the fire
near which Pierre Sandeau stood. It appeared to be one of the wreckers;
but the voice, that almost whispered in the old man's ear, made him
start.
'Father!' said Madeleine, in a low solemn voice, 'what are you about to
do?'
'Fool! what want you here?' replied Pierre, amazed and angry at the
same time.
'I come to prevent murder! Father, think what you are about to do?
Here are fifty fellow-creatures coming in search of life and shelter, and
you will give them death!'

'This is no place for you, Madeleine!' cried the other in a husky voice.
'Go home, girl, and let me never see you out again at night!'
'Away, Madeleine!--away!' said the crowd angrily.
'I will not away!--I will stay here to see you do your foul deed--to fix it
on my mind, that day and night I may shout in your ears that ye are
murderers! Father,' added she solemnly, 'imbrue your hands in the
blood of one man to-night, and I am no child of yours. I will beg, I will
crawl through the world on my hands, but never more will I eat the
bread of crime!'
'Take her away, Pierre,' said one more ruffianly than the rest, 'or you
may repent it.'
'Go, girl, go,' whispered Pierre faintly, while the wreckers moved in a
body to the shore, where the boats were about to strike.
'Never!' shrieked Madeleine, clinging franticly to her father's clothes.
'Let me go!' cried Pierre, dragging her with him.
At that moment a terrible event interrupted their struggle. A man stood
upright in the foremost boat, guiding their progress. Just as they were
within two yards of the shore, this man saw the wreckers coming down
in a body.
'As I expected!' he cried in a loud ringing voice. 'Fire!--shoot every one
of the villains!'
A volley of small arms, within pistol-shot of the body of wreckers, was
the unexpected greeting which these men received. A loud and terrible
yell shewed the way in which the discharge had told. One-half of the
pillagers fell on the stony beach, the other half fled.
Among those who remained was Madeleine. She was kneeling by her
father, who had received several shots, and lay on the ground