Under False Colors.




Chapter I.

Hoisting The Flag.



A dreary, murky November day brooded over Southampton, and an impenetrable
fog hung over sea and shore alike, penetrating the clothing, chilling the
blood and depressing the spirits of every unlucky person who was so
unfortunate as to come within the range of its influence. The passengers
on the steamship America, from Bremen for New York via Southampton, found
the brief period of their stay at the latter port almost unendurable; and
while some paced the wet decks impatiently, others grumbled both loudly
and deeply in the cabins, or shut themselves up in their state-rooms in
sulky discomfort. Those who remained on deck had at least the amusement of
watching for the steamboat which was to bring the Southampton
passengers--a pastime which, however, being indefinitely prolonged, began
to grow wearisome. It came at last--a wretched little vessel, rather
smaller than the smallest of the noisy tugs that puff and paddle on our
American rivers--and the wet, sick, unsheltered passengers were gradually
transferred to the deck of the ship.

Among those who appeared to have suffered most severely from the rocking
of the miserable little steamboat was a young, fair-haired girl,
apparently about seventeen years of age, who seemed almost insensible. She