I was on board that Indian vessel; we did not expect
anything serious, although we made every preparation for rough weather,
and as it turned out, it was well indeed we did, for never within the
memory of the oldest seamen, had such a storm ravished the coast. A
furious gale, which it was impossible to withstand, drove us southward;
and but for the utmost precautions, aided by courage and temerity on the
part of the seamen, such as I had never before witnessed in the
merchant-service, we escaped with trifling damage, but we were driven at
least 200 miles out of our course; and instead of getting, as we ought
to have done, to the Cape by a certain time, we were an immense distance
eastward of it. It was just as the storm, which lasted three nights and
two days, began to abate, that towards the horizon we saw a dull red
light; and as it was not in a quarter of the sky where any such
appearance might be imagined, nor were we in a latitude where
electro-phenomena might be expected, we steered toward it, surmising
what turned out afterwards to be fully correct." "It was a ship on fire!" said Johanna. "It was." "Alas! alas! I guessed it. A frightful suspicion from the first crossed
my mind. It was a ship on fire, and that ship was--"

The Star was bound upon its adventurous course, although driven far out
of it by adverse winds and waves. After about half an hour's sailing we
came within sight distinctly of a blazing vessel. We could hear the roar
of the flames, and through our glasses we could see them curling up the
cordage, and dancing from mast to mast, like fiery serpents, exulting in
the destruction they were making. We made all sail, and strained every
inch of canvas to reach the ill-fated vessel, for distances at sea that
look small are in reality very great, and an hour's hard sailing in a
fair wind, with every stitch of canvas set, would not do more than
enable us to reach that ill-fated bark; but fancy in an hour what
ravages the flames might make! The vessel was doomed. The fiat had gone
forth that it was to be among the things that had been; and long before
we could reach the spot upon which it floated idly on the now
comparatively calm waters, we saw a bright shower of sparks rush up into
the air. Then came a loud roaring sound over the surface of the deep,
and all was still--the ship had disappeared, and the water closed over
it for ever." "But how knew you," said Johanna, as she clasped her hands, and the
pallid expression of her countenance betrayed the deep interest she took
in the narration, "how knew you that the ship was the Star? might it not
have been some other ill-fated vessel that met with so dreadful a fate?" "I will tell you: although we had seen the ship go down, we kept on our
course, straining every effort to reach the spot, with the hope of
picking up some of the crew, who surely had made an effort by the boats
to leave the burning vessel. The captain of the Indiaman kept his glass
at his eye, and presently he said to me,--'There is a floating piece of
wreck, and something clinging to it; I know not if there be a man, but
what I can perceive seems to me to be the head of a dog.' I looked
through the glass myself, and saw the same object; but as we neared it,
we found it was a large piece of the wreck, with a dog and a man
supported by it, who were clinging with all the energy of desperation. In ten minutes more we had them on board the vessel--the man was the
Lieutenant Thornhill I have before mentioned, and the dog belonged to
him. He related to us that the ship, we had seen burning was the Star;
and that it had never reached its destination, and that he believed all
had perished but himself and the dog; for, although one of the boats had
been launched, so desperate a rush was made into it by the crew that it
had swamped, and all perished. Such was his own state of exhaustion,
that, after he had made this short statement, it was some days before he
left his hammock; but when he did, and began to mingle with us, we found
an intelligent, cheerful companion--such a one, indeed, as we were glad
to have on board, and in confidence he related to the captain and myself
the object of the voyage of the Star, and the previous particulars with
which I have made you acquainted. And then, during a night-watch, when
the soft and beautiful moonlight was more than usually inviting, and he
and I were on the deck, enjoying the coolness of the night, after the
intense heat of the day in the tropics, he said to me,--'I have a very
sad mission to perform when I get to London. On board our vessel was a
young man named Mark Ingestrie; and some short time before the vessel in
which we were went down, he begged of me to call upon a young lady named
Johanna Oakley, the daughter of a spectacle-maker in London, providing I
should be saved and he perish; and of the latter event, he felt so
strong a presentiment that he gave me a string of pearls, which I was to
present to her in his name; but where he got them I have not the least
idea, for they are of immense value.' Mr. Thornhill showed me the
pearls, which were of different sizes, roughly strung together, but of
great value; and when we reached the river Thames, which was only three
days since, he left us with his dog, carrying his string of pearls with
him, to find out where you reside." "Alas! he never came." "No; from all the inquiries we can make, and all the information we can
learn, it seems he disappeared somewhere about Fleet-street." "Disappeared!" "Yes; we can trace him to the Temple-stairs, and from thence to the
barber' shop, kept by a man named Sweeny Todd; but beyond there no
information of him can be obtained." "Sweeny Todd!" "Yes; and what makes the affair more extraordinary, is, that neither
force nor persuasion will induce Thornhill's dog to leave the place." "I saw it--I saw the creature, and it looked imploringly, although
kindly, in my face; but little did I think, when I paused a moment to
look upon that melancholy but faithful animal, that it held a part in my
destiny. Oh! Mark Ingestrie, Mark Ingestrie, dare I hope that you live
when all else have perished?" "I have told you all that I can tell you, and, according as your own
judgment may dictate to you, you can encourage hope, or extinguish it
for ever. I have kept back nothing from you which can make the affair
worse or better--I have added nothing; but you have it simply as it was
told to me." "He is lost--he is lost." "I am one, lady, who always thinks certainty of any sort preferable to
suspense; and although, while there is no positive news of death, the
continuance of life ought fairly to be assumed, yet you must perceive,
from a review of all the circumstances, upon how very slender a
foundation all our hopes must rest." "I have no hope--I have no hope--he is lost to me for ever! It were
madness to think he lived. Oh, Mark, Mark! and is this the end of all
our fond affection?