THE MASTER; OR, IMPRESSMENT. Hast thou, which art but air, a touch of feeling One of their kind, that relish all as sharply SHAKSPEARE. THE MASTER, &c. CHAPTER I. A FIRST-WATCH STORY. I see men's judgments are A parcel of their fortune. SHAKSPEARE. IT was the beginning of a first-watch in the month of September, 1807, when Harold, a young, active lieutenant, and Cramer, the master, a steady, melancholy-looking person, ascended from the ward-room of His Majesty's ship ****, which lay at anchor among the victorious, and part of the captive fleet in Copenhagen Roads. No longer the voice of com D mand was heard on the decks of the captured ships, nor the loud creaking of the blocks as the heavy yards ascended to their places. sea. The bustle and merriment of the seamen, glorying in the work of equipment, and the hasty conference of officers, as they passed to and fro on the floating platforms, had ceased with the day. There was still light enough, however, to observe the broken lines of the suburbs, the citadel, and the long rows of buildings and low batteries, that fronted the The steeples of the majestic churches were dimly penciled on the retreating shades of light, and the ruins of the noble spire, which had fallen a prey to the fury of the rockets, were just distinguishable; but the gleam of arms was no longer to be seen on the ramparts, nor the British flag playing in the breeze. The notes of the bugle were hushed, and no sound was heard save the voice of the wary sentinels, who, at intervals, proclaimed security |