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Title: The Missing Ship
       The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley

Author: W. H. G. Kingston

Release Date: May 15, 2007 [EBook #21470]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MISSING SHIP ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Missing Ship; The Log of the "Ouzel" Galley, by W.H.G. Kingston

________________________________________________________________________

This is a long and exceptionally well-written book by this prolific
author.  It is full of interest and strong situations.  The date of the
events is supposed to be early in the eighteenth century, and of course
all matters nautical are under sail (or oars).  That date is stated in
the Preface.

The copy of the book that was used for this transcription was quite hard
to work with, mainly because the type appeared to have been set a bit
close to the gutter (the fold down the centre of the open pages).
However, it later appeared that the book had been kept for a long time
in some position that caused a fold in the pages near to the gutter, so
that the scans were more usable than was at first feared.

This book does make an exceptionally nice audiobook.  The book is fifty
percent longer than the average novel, and takes about 18 hours for the
audiobook to play.

You will enjoy this book a great deal.

________________________________________________________________________

THE MISSING SHIP; THE LOG OF THE "OUZEL" GALLEY, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

THE MASTER OF THE OUZEL GALLEY--HIS SON AND DAUGHTER--THE FIRST MATE--A
CALM--A GALE SPRINGS UP--A RAFT SEEN--OWEN RESCUES ITS OCCUPANT--DAN,
AND POMPEY, THE BLACK COOK--SURMISES ABOUT THE STRANGER--THE GALE
CEASES--THE STRANGER APPEARS ON DECK AND GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIMSELF--
GIVES FIRST NEWS OF WAR BETWEEN ENGLAND AND FRANCE--LANCELOT CARNEGAN
BECOMES SECOND MATE OF THE OUZEL GALLEY.

"No sign of a breeze yet, Owen?" asked Captain Tracy, as he lay in his
cot, slung in the state-room of the _Ouzel Galley_, West India trader,
of which stout bark he was the commander.  His fair daughter Norah sat
by his side fanning his pale cheek--for he, like several of his crew,
had been struck down by fever, and he probably owed his life to her
watchful care.  For many days the vessel had lain becalmed on the glassy
ocean under a tropical sun, the excessive heat tending greatly to
increase the sickness on board, three of the crew, besides the second
mate, having already succumbed to it.  Day after day the survivors had
been anxiously looking out for the wind to fill the sluggish sails
hanging down against the masts; but each morning they had seen the fiery
sun rise out of the calm ocean and pass across the blue vault of heaven,
to sink again beneath the horizon, suffusing with a ruddy glow the whole
western sky.  The night brought relief from the heat, and hope revived;
but when morning returned, again the suffering crew had to endure the
scorching rays of the sun, from which even the shade cast by the sails
afforded them but inadequate shelter.  The chips from the carpenter's
bench which had been thrown overboard still lay alongside; while the
creaking of the yards and blocks, and the slight splashing sound as the
vessel moved from side to side by the now scarcely perceptible
undulations of the broad Atlantic, alone broke the silence which,
reigned over the watery expanse on which she floated.  Norah--a fair and
beautiful girl, who, though scarcely sixteen summers had passed over her
head, had already the appearance, and what was to her of the greatest
consequence, the calm resolution of more mature age--stopping for a
moment in her employment, looked up with an inquiring glance from her
blue eyes towards the first mate, who had just then, hat in hand,
entered the cabin.

"A bank of clouds has just appeared above the horizon in the sou'-west,
sir, and from the rapid way in which it is rising we shall, if I mistake
not, have the wind before long, and as much as we want of it," he
replied.

"Thank Heaven!" ejaculated the captain.  "See all ready for shortening
sail.  I must try to come on deck, for we are sadly short-handed."

"Oh! don't attempt it, father," said Norah; "you have scarcely strength
to stand, and Mr Massey and the crew will do all that is necessary."

"Miss Norah is right, sir--stay where you are," said the mate.  "I am
inclined to furl everything at once, so as to be prepared for the wind
when it reaches us; it is near the hurricane season in the West Indies,
and they are sometimes felt as far to the eastward as this.  Should the
wind not prove as strong as I expect, we can easily make sail again."

"Do as you propose, Owen," said the captain; "you are always careful and
prudent."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the mate, and he sprang quickly on deck.  "All
hands shorten sail!" he shouted.  "Be smart, my lads, or we may have old
Harry Cane aboard us before we have time to open our weather eyes."

He knew well that a joke would tend to inspirit the downcast crew, most
of whom were Irishmen--the _Ouzel Galley_ belonging to Dublin, though
trading chiefly to the fair port of Waterford.  She was a deep-waisted
vessel, with three masts, the foremast and mainmast square-rigged, while
the aftermast carried a long lateen-shaped sail called the mizen, with a
square topsail and topgallantsail.  The mainsail and foresail having
been brailed up and handed, Owen ordered the crew aloft to furl the
main-topsail.

"Gerald, lend me a hand to furl the mizen!" he sang out to a lad who had
been actively engaged in the former operation.  Gerald Tracy, the
captain's son, a fine-looking youth, sprang aft to the mizen-brails.
The mate having already let go the sheet, the sail was drawn up close to
the yard.

"Now, aloft to the mizen-topsail," cried the mate; "we must have every
stitch of canvas off her before the wind reaches us; for, depend upon
it, it is in no playful mood."

The mate and Gerald sprang up the rigging, and getting hold of the bunt
of the sail, quickly furled it.  Pompey, the black cook, and Tim
Maloney, a boy, were on deck letting go or hoisting away at the ropes as
required; every other man in the ship able to move was aloft.  All the
after sail having been taken off the ship, Owen, as he was about to
descend from the yard, cast a glance to windward.

"Here it comes, sharp and strong," he sang out; "down--down, quick, all
of you!" and, seizing the backstay, he glided like lightning on deck.
Gerald followed his example.  As soon as the mate reached the deck, he
sprang to the deserted helm and gave another look in the direction from
which he expected the wind to come.  Already could be discerned a long
line of white foam curling up above the hitherto calm sea, over the
surface of which innumerable cat's-paws were playing, now sweeping
across it, now vanishing, to reappear speedily in another direction.
The men were in the mean time employed, under the mate's directions, in
getting the ship snug.

"Gerald, do you go and assist them," he said; "we haven't a moment to
lose."

The jib only remained set.  Some of the crew had begun to grumble at
having so much pulling and hauling, with apparently no object.

"What's the use of furling sails in a dead calm? we shall be after
having to set them again, as I hope we shall get the breeze before
long," exclaimed Dan Connor.

An active seaman was Dan, though he could seldom see much further than
his own nose.

"Nebber fear dat," cried Pompey, "we get de wind 'tiff and 'trong as you
and I like de grog, Dan--de mate hab um wedder eye open as 'wide as de
captain--see what coming--look out, man--what say to dat?"

Those standing near him turned their glances over the larboard side,
towards the south-west, the vessel then lying with her head to the
north-west, where they saw a long line which had now assumed the
appearance of a vast foaming wave, while at the same time a loud hissing
roar reached their ears.  The mate shouted for another hand to come to
the helm.  Dan Connor sprang aft at the mate's call; but scarcely had he
grasped the spokes of the wheel, than the wind with a furious rush
struck the vessel.  Down she heeled, while a deluge of spray flew over
her.  For an instant it seemed as if she was irretrievably gone, but the
jib happily standing, she drew ahead, and feeling her helm, round she
spun, and, righting as suddenly as she had heeled over, away she flew
before the hurricane.  The young mate drew his breath.

"Gerald, go below and tell your father that we're all to rights and no
damage done.  We had a narrow squeak for it, though; but don't say
that--it may trouble your sister," said Owen.

Gerald went into the cabin with the satisfactory intelligence.  On
entering he found Norah clinging to the sofa, which was placed
athwart-ships, at the after end of the cabin.  She looked pale and
anxious; happily, the captain had escaped being thrown out of his cot
when the vessel had been hove on her beam-ends.

"How goes it, Gerald?" he asked.

"All right, father," answered Gerald; "the stout ship is behaving
beautifully.  Thanks to Mr Massey, we were well prepared for the squall
when it struck us--though it's my belief if we'd had our canvas set it
would have been all over with the _Ouzel Galley_.  We are now scudding
along under bare poles at a rate which will soon carry us into Waterford
harbour, if the wind holds as it is."

"Little chance of that, I'm afraid," observed the captain; "but, Gerald,
tell the mate to have the dead-lights closed.  The sea will be getting
up presently, and we shall have it washing through the stern windows."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered his son, who knew that an order given must be
delivered immediately, and was about to go.

"Stay, Gerald--tell him to set the fore-topsail closely reefed, and to
rig preventer-braces; we must not run the risk of having the ship
pooped, and there will be a great chance of that happening before long,
unless we have merely caught the tail of the hurricane."

The boy hurried on deck and gave the orders he had received.  He found
that the mate had anticipated them.  The carpenter was at that moment
coming aft to close the stern-ports, while several hands were going
aloft to loose the fore-topsail.  The mate had seen the necessity for
this, as already the furious wind had lashed the ocean, hitherto so
calm, into wildly leaping seas, which came rushing up on both sides of
the vessel, with foaming crests like war-steeds charging on the foe; but
onward she flew before them, now rising to the summit of a wave, now
pitching down into the trough on the farther side.  It needed all the
strength of the crew to reef and set the sail.  The carpenter, as soon
as he had performed his task, went forward again to assist the rest,
while the mate and Gerald took the helm.  The sail was at length set,
and the men came down off the yard.  The mate kept an anxious eye on the
canvas, doubting much whether it would stand the tremendous strain put
on it--he expected every moment to see it blown away from the
bolt-ropes--but it was stout and new.  He had little fear of the
rigging, for every inch of it he had himself assisted in turning in and
setting up, and not a strand had parted--all was thoroughly served.  He
now summoned one of the best hands to relieve him at the helm; he then
had a spare fore-topsail got up on deck ready to bend, should the first
be carried away.  Having made every arrangement which as a good seaman
he considered necessary, he sent Gerald back into the cabin to report to
the captain; he would, he knew, be anxious to learn how things were
going on.  Gerald, who was an enthusiastic admirer of the mate, did not
fail to tell all that had been done.

"He is a good seaman, father, that mate of ours," he exclaimed.

"I can always trust him to do the right thing," observed the captain.

"He is as fine a fellow as ever stepped," answered Gerald, warmly; "when
I thought the ship was going over, I looked at him, and there he stood,
as calm and unmoved as if we had been running before a light breeze with
all sail set."

Norah's eye brightened as her brother spoke, and a smile played over her
countenance, though she said nothing.

"You will do well to imitate him, Gerald," remarked the captain; "he is
calm and confident because he thoroughly knows his business and what
will have to be done under every emergency.  A better seaman never trod
the deck of a merchant vessel, or a king's ship either.  When this
voyage is over, as Norah insists on my not going to sea again, I intend
to get the owners to give him the command of the _Ouzel Galley_--they
know their own interests too well to refuse my request.  Before long you
will be old enough, Gerald, to become second mate, and perhaps, if the
stout ship meets with no mishap, to command her one of these days,
should Owen get a larger craft, or take it into his head to come and
live on shore."

Gerald was glad to hear his father speak in this style; it showed that
he was already getting better and recovering his spirits, which had been
much cast down, especially since the death of so many of the crew.  He
now inquired how the others were getting on, and sent Gerald forward to
learn.  He soon came back with the report that two already seemed much
better, but that the third had as yet shown no signs of amendment.

"They'll pick up, poor fellows, when we get into a cooler latitude,"
observed the captain.  "I feel myself already another man, and hope to
be on deck in a day or two."

Tim, the cabin-boy, now entered to prepare the table for supper.  It
still wanted an hour or more to-night, but that meal in those days was
taken earlier than at present.  Pompey, notwithstanding the way the
vessel was tumbling about, had managed to keep his fire in and to cook
some broth for the captain and the sick men--for they were unable to
partake of more substantial fare.  Norah had become so accustomed to a
sea life in all weathers, that she was able to attend to her father and
to take her seat at table.  Tim, as soon as he had placed the dishes,
well secured with the usual puddings and fiddles, went to summon the
mate, who was generally on such occasions relieved by the boatswain; but
Tim came back to say that Mr Massey could not quit the deck till the
gale moderated.  Gerald, having despatched his supper, quickly joined
him.

"What do you think of the weather, Mr Massey?" he asked.

"That it is blowing big guns and small-arms," answered the mate,
laughing.  "Not that that much matters as long as it holds steadily in
its present quarter; but I'm on the look-out lest it should change, and
if it does, it will not give warning of its intention.  It would be an
ugly thing to be taken aback with this sea on, and it is that we must be
prepared for."

The waves had indeed, since Gerald had been below, greatly increased,
and were now rising far above the bulwarks, and as they curled over
threatened to come down on the deck and overwhelm the good ship.

"Keep a tight hold of a stanchion or the mizen-mast, Gerald," said the
mate; "if one of those seas breaks on board, you might be carried away
in a moment.  See, the men know what may possibly happen, and are doing
as I advise you--though, if I had my will, you should remain below."

"My father and Norah would be ashamed of me if I did," answered Gerald;
"depend on it, I will take good care to hold on with tooth and nail if
we get so unwelcome a visitor."

Onward flew the ship; already the gloom of night had begun to steal over
the waste of waters, when the look-out forward shouted, "A lump of
timber or a boat capsized right ahead a point on the starboard bow!"
Immediately afterwards he added, "It's a raft, sir, with a man on it;
he's waving to us!"

The mate sprang into the mizen rigging, and having glanced at the
position of the raft, of which he caught sight as it rose to the summit
of a sea, he exclaimed, "We must save the poor fellow's life--port the
helm half a point.  Steady now.  Get ropes ready to heave to him," he
next shouted out; and, securing one round his own waist, he leaped into
the fore-chains.

The ship flew on, but he had rightly calculated the position of the
raft.  There was a fearful risk, however, that she might run over it, or
that the force of the sea might dash it against her side and crush its
occupant.  But no time was allowed for considering the risk to be run.
Owen saw that the man had disengaged himself from the ropes by which he
had been secured to the raft, and was holding on to one of them alone.
He must have well known his terrible danger, for a sea might in a moment
wash him away, in spite of his holdfast.  The mate stood ready with
another rope in hand to heave to him.  The next instant the raft was
driven against the side of the vessel, and the man lost his hold.
Prompted by a generous instinct, Owen, at the great risk of his own
life, sprang on to the raft, and, grasping him round the waist, put the
rope into his hand, while he held him fast.  The crew were in readiness,
in the rigging or leaning over the bulwarks, and before another moment
had passed both Owen and the stranger were drawn up and stood in safety
in the main-chains, whence eager hands hauled them on board.

"You have rendered me a good turn, and I hope to live long enough to
repay it," said the rescued man, as soon as he had sufficiently
recovered his breath to speak; for he had been pretty nearly exhausted
by the efforts he had made to hold on to the raft, and the sudden jerk
he had received in being hauled on board.

He was evidently a seaman, for a seaman and a strong and determined man
alone could have exerted himself as he had done to preserve his life.
By his dress and manner, also, he appeared to be an officer.  The
physical suffering and mental anxiety he must have gone through had
naturally so much exhausted him that, though able to stand, he was
compelled to hold fast to the bulwarks to support himself.  From his
appearance, however, he looked like a man capable of enduring as much as
most persons; he was strongly built, rather above the middle height,
with a countenance which if not handsome was good-looking, and betokened
courage and resolution.

"I am glad that I was fortunate enough to get hold of you, and to help
you on board--though, as I should have tried to do the same for any
human being placed in the situation in which you were, I do not feel
that you have any special reason to be thankful to me," answered Owen.

"As to that matter, all I know is, that if you hadn't jumped on the raft
at the moment you did and thrown me a rope, I should have been washed
away, and have been by this time where many a bold fellow has gone
before; and though a more exalted fate may be in store for me, according
to the old saying, as I have no wish to leave the world just yet, I am
bound to be grateful to you, captain--for I conclude that you are the
skipper of this craft," said the stranger.

"No, I am but the mate," answered Owen; "the skipper is ill, and as the
berths in the state cabin are occupied, I can only offer you mine--and I
would advise you to get off your wet clothes and turn in between the
blankets, with a stiff glass of grog, or you may be the worse for your
wetting and exposure."

"I have knocked about too much up and down at sea, with all sorts of
adventures, to be much the worse for what I've gone through.  However, I
will accept your offer.  A stiff glass of grog, especially, will be
welcome, and something to eat with it; for I had no opportunity of
dining on the raft, as you may suppose," answered the stranger.

He said this in an off-hand, careless manner, laughing as he spoke; but
notwithstanding his boasts, he was glad of the assistance of Owen and
Dan Connor, on whose shoulders he rested while they conducted him to the
cabin of the former.  No sooner did he reach it than he sank down
utterly exhausted, and it was not without considerable help from Dan
that he was able to get off his garments and turn in to bed.

"You'll be all to rights now, your honour, and I'll be after bringing
you a basin of soup and a glass of grog," remarked Dan, as he was
gathering up the wet clothes to carry to the galley fire.

"Stay, there are some papers in my pockets which I wish to keep in my
own possession," said the stranger, as he saw what Dan was about.

"They're like to be in a pretty mess, which it will take a pair of sharp
eyes to read, by this time," observed Dan.

"They are in a tin case--hand it to me," was the answer, as Dan began to
feel about in the pockets of the stranger's jacket.  "You may take the
clothes away now, my man; and don't be long in bringing me the grog,
mind you," added the stranger, when he had possessed himself of the tin
case and, in addition, a well-filled purse and several other smaller
articles, which his pockets had contained.

"By-the-by, what's the name of this vessel, and to what port is she
bound?" he asked.

"Shure, she's the _Ouzel Galley_, your honour," answered Dan, "and as
sweet a craft as sails between the West Indies and Dublin city--though
we're bound just now to Waterford, and we'll be after getting there, I
hope, some day."

"And what's the name of your skipper and your mate, who pulled me out of
the water?" continued the stranger.

"It's Captain Tracy you mane, and the mate's Mr Owen Massey, as fine a
man as iver stepped a deck.  I'm after belaving, if he wasn't, he
wouldn't have done what he did just now, as your honour will be willing
to own," answered Dan.

"You're right--it was a brave deed," said the stranger.  As soon as Dan,
bundling up the clothes, had left the cabin, its occupant eagerly opened
the tin case and examined its contents, apparently to satisfy himself
that they had escaped damage; then closing it, he placed it under his
pillow, on which he sank down exhausted.

"Faith, I've had a narrow escape--but as this craft is bound to fair
Waterford, I must either quit her before she gets there, or take care
that none of my friends recognise me when I step on shore," he murmured
to himself.  "However, my good genius may enable me to escape that
danger, as it has to scramble through many others.  Strange that my life
should have been saved by Owen Massey--he does not know me, however; but
that is not surprising, as I am greatly changed since we were together.
Few traces remain about me of the slight youth I then was.  I must be on
my guard not to betray myself to him, or he and his commander may take
it into their heads that their loyalty obliges them to deliver me over
to the Government.  As long as they don't find out who I am, I shall
have no difficulty in making my escape, even though I am compelled to
set foot on shore in Waterford itself.  I wish those fellows would bear
a hand and bring me some food--that and a night's rest will restore my
strength and enable me to consider what to do better than I now can.  I
have run many a narrow chance of losing my life, but never was I nearer
to death than to-day--another hour or two on the raft would have
finished me, and then where should I have been?  Bah!  I must not allow
such thoughts to trouble me, or I shall become nerveless as a young
girl."

In spite of all his efforts the thoughts he dreaded would intrude on the
stranger's mind.  He looked eagerly for the return of the seaman with
the promised food and grog.  Dan, in the mean time, with the bundle of
wet clothes under his arm, had made his way forward to the caboose,
where Pompey was busy blowing away at his fire and trying to get his
kettle and a saucepan of broth to boil.

"Well, Dan, my jewel, who dis fellow just come on board?  What you tink
about him?" asked Pompey.

"Faith, it's more than he thought fit to tell me," answered Dan.  "All I
know is that he's a mighty fine-spoken gentleman, with a big purse of
gold in his pocket."

"In which pocket?" asked Pompey eagerly, taking up the jacket.

"You big thief, you don't think I am after laving it to your itching
fingers--no, no, Pompey, even if the gentleman himself hadn't taken it
out, he's been too long at sea not to guess pretty shrewdly that the
shiners would vanish if the purse found its way forrard," said Dan.

"You'll not be after calling me a big thief, Dan?" exclaimed Pompey,
getting angry at this insinuation against his honesty.

"No, but I'll back your tongue to wag faster than any man's in this
ship," replied Dan.  "Come, bear a hand and get the water to boil, and
then we'll hang up these clothes to dry, for the stranger doesn't look
like a man who'll be content to lie in bed longer than he can help, and
he'll be wanting to get up to-morrow morning and show himself on deck."

"He may be a mighty fine gentleman," muttered Pompey, "but I never did
see much good come in hauling a man, whoever he was, out of de water."

"What's that you say, you old thief of the world?" exclaimed Dan.
"Whether good or bad comes of it, it was as brave a thing as you or I or
any man ever saw done, to leap on the raft as our mate did and manage to
bring the stranger on board.  We've some stout fellows among us, but not
one would have dared to do that same.  When the skipper hears of it
he'll be after praising him as he deserves; and there's some one else,
too, who'll not think the less of him than she does now.  It won't be my
fault if I don't let the skipper know how it all happened--though maybe
the stranger won't forget to tell him--but as for the mate himself, he's
as likely as not to make light of it, and just to say that it's what any
other man would have done as well."

The opinion uttered by Dan was shared generally among the crew, with
whom Owen Massey stood deservedly high.

"Come, bear a hand, Pompey," continued Dan; "the watch will be out
before you get that fire to burn."

By dint of hard puffing Pompey succeeded in his object, and Dan went aft
with a kettle of hot water in one hand and a basin of soup in the other.
He then, having obtained the requisite amount of rum, repaired to the
mate's cabin, where he found the stranger on the point of dropping off
from exhaustion, and almost in a state of insensibility.  The broth and
grog, however, quickly revived him.  He uttered but few words of thanks,
and again falling back on his pillow, dropped off to sleep.

Gerald, who had witnessed Owen's gallant act, trembling lest he should
fail and lose his life, gave a shout of joy when he saw him successful
and safe again on board.  Prompted by his feelings, he sprang towards
the mate, and grasping his hand, exclaimed, "Bravely done, Mr Massey!
Oh, how thankful I am that you got him on board!  It did not seem
possible.  Had you been lost, it would have broken Norah's heart, and my
poor father's too--for, sick as he is, he couldn't have borne it.  I
must go and tell them how it all happened--they'll think more of you
than ever--but I'm very glad Norah wasn't on deck, for she would have
felt as I did, and been terribly alarmed."

"Hush, Gerald, hush! you think more of the affair than it deserves,"
said Owen; "had I run any risk of losing my life, your father might have
blamed me, as the safety of the ship while he is ill is committed to my
charge; but remember that I took the precaution of having a rope round
my waist, so that I couldn't come to any harm, and what I did any man
with strength and nerve could have done likewise--so, Gerald, don't make
a fuss about the matter.  I saved the man's life, there's no doubt about
that, and he, therefore, is the only person who need thank me."

Notwithstanding what the mate had said, Gerald hurried into the cabin
and gave a report of what had occurred, not failing to express his own
opinion of the gallantry of the act.  Norah, who had listened with
breathless interest while he spoke, uttered an ejaculation of
thankfulness, forgetting to make any inquiry about the man who had been
saved.  Captain Tracy, however, expressed himself much as Owen expected
he would.

"It was a rash though brave deed," he observed, "but I'll not blame
him--he had no time, evidently, to think of the risk he was running, but
acted as his gallantry prompted him.  He did not get any hurt, I hope?"

"No, father, beyond a thorough wetting--it was all done in a moment--he
was on board again almost before I could have looked round, walking the
deck as if nothing had happened," answered Gerald.

"I am thankful for that," said the captain; "and where have they stowed
the man he saved?  Poor fellow! it would have been hard lines with him,
in such a sea as is still running, if he had not been picked up."

"The mate put him into his own cabin," said Gerald; "the cook has been
heating some soup for him, as he seemed very weak and pretty nigh
exhausted."

"Owen might have let him go forward with the men; they would have looked
after him carefully enough," observed Captain Tracy.  "There was no
necessity for Owen to give up his own cabin--but he is always generous
and ready to sacrifice his own comforts for others."

"But the stranger from his way of speaking and dress seems to be an
officer, and he would think himself badly treated if he had been sent
forward," said Gerald.

"I must hear more about him from Owen," said the captain; "ask him to
come here as soon as he can leave the deck and has got on dry clothes.
How's the weather now, Gerald?"

"It is moderating rapidly, father, and the mate thinks we shall have
smooth water and a light breeze before night," was the answer.

When Gerald returned on deck he found the mate giving orders to loose
the topsails.  As soon as this was done, the wind still decreasing, the
foresail and mainsail were set, and before long the ship was bounding
proudly over the seas with as much canvas as could be carried.  At
length, leaving the deck in charge of the boatswain, Owen repaired to
the cabin and answered many questions put to him by the captain.  He
might well have been satisfied with the approbation he received from
Norah, if not from her lips, from those bright blue eyes of hers--even
the captain forgot to scold him as he had intended for his rashness.

"We shall hear more about the man to-morrow, when he has recovered," he
observed; "he'll need a long rest, for he must have pretty well given up
all hope of his life when you saved him, till the ship hove in sight--
and even then he could scarcely expect to be picked up with the sea
there was running at the time.  Well, I trust that he'll be grateful."

The captain then made inquiries about the sick men, of whom Owen was
able to give a favourable report.

"Thank God for that!" said the captain.  "I feel myself quite another
man to what I have been for many a day, and I hope to-morrow to be on
deck again.  If this stranger proves to be a seaman he may give you some
relief by doing duty on board; you've had a trying time of it, Owen, and
it is a mercy you've not knocked up."

Owen now bade the captain and mistress Norah good night, and went on
deck, when he desired the boatswain--the only person besides himself to
whom the charge of the ship could be confided--to turn in, that he might
relieve him in the next watch, should the weather continue to improve as
he hoped it would do.  He was not disappointed; when the morning broke,
the ship was running on before a fair and moderate breeze.  The rest of
the usual canvas was set, and under all sail the _Ouzel Galley_ made
good way towards her destination.  With a thankful heart, soon after
breakfast, Norah accompanied her father on deck.  The other sick men
were able to crawl up and enjoy the fresh air, their pallid faces
showing, however, how near death's door they had been.  It was evident
that some time must elapse before they would be fit for duty.  The
stranger had not yet made his appearance; but Dan, who had dried his
clothes, had taken them into the cabin, and reported that he was at
length awake and expressed his intention of getting up.  Norah was
seated with her father under an awning stretched over the poop-deck,
where both shade and air could be enjoyed.  When the stranger came up
the companion-hatch, the first person he saw was Owen.  He put out his
hand.

"Though I got but a glimpse of you last night, you are, I am sure, the
man who hauled me off the raft, and I will again thank you heartily for
saving my life," he said, in a frank tone.  "I find that I have deprived
you of your cabin; you must stow me elsewhere for the rest of the
voyage, for I must not continue to incommode you."

"There is another berth I can take, so don't talk about that," answered
Owen.

"As you wish," said the stranger, who having, to his own satisfaction it
may be, expressed his thanks, took a seaman-like glance round the ship.
As he did so, his eye fell on Norah and the captain.  An expression of
surprise crossed his countenance, succeeded by a look of admiration, as
he beheld Norah, who appeared even more beautiful and attractive than
usual, her colour heightened by the fresh breeze and her heart joyous
with the thoughts of her father's recovery.  She withdrew her gaze,
which had naturally been turned towards the stranger who had thus
unexpectedly appeared.  He at once, guessing who the captain and his
daughter were, stepped on to the poop and advanced towards them.
Doffing his sea-cap with the manners of a man accustomed to the world,
he bowed to the young lady, and then addressed the captain.  "I have
come without any formal invitation on board your ship, sir, but faith, I
hadn't my choice--your mate hauled me on board without asking whether I
wished it or no; and, to confess the truth, I am very much obliged to
him, for had he stopped to inquire I should not have had the opportunity
of answering, as in another moment I should have been carried to lie
where many a brave fellow sleeps, at the bottom of the sea.  I am
therefore indebted to him for saving my life--what he did, he did well
and gallantly, at no slight risk of losing his own."

"I am thankful that he succeeded," answered Captain Tracy; "and, for my
part, all I can say is that you are very welcome on board--and glad I am
to see you so much recovered this morning."

"A night's rest has worked wonders--yesterday evening I felt very much
unlike myself, but I am now strong and well as usual."  The stranger
took two or three turns on deck to verify his assertion; again stopping,
in an off-hand style he inquired how long the ship had been out, what
weather had been met with, and where she was bound for--though,
curiously enough, he did not offer to give any account of himself,
apparently intending to let the captain put any questions to him on the
subject he might think fit.  Norah, not being destitute of the curiosity
natural to her sex, was longing to learn who the stranger was--yet she
did not like to ask him herself.  She waited, hoping that her father
would do so.  She could at length restrain herself no longer.

"Had you been long in the water, sir?" she inquired.

"Five or six hours, I believe, more or less," he answered, smiling.
"By-the-by, I must apologise for not having before given an account of
myself.  To the best of my belief, I am the only survivor of the gallant
fellows who manned the _Dragon_ privateer, of which I had the honour to
be first officer.  She carried sixteen guns and a crew of 110 hands, all
told."

"A privateer!" exclaimed Captain Tracy.  "What flag did you sail under?
Has England again gone to war?  We had heard nothing of it before we
left Port Royal."

"Oh, that is not surprising--it is scarcely six weeks since England
declared war against France," replied the stranger.  "We knew what was
in the wind, and sailed from Bristol, to which port the _Dragon_
belonged, immediately the news reached us, in search of French
homeward-bound ships, hoping to get hold of them before they had heard
of the breaking out of war.  We had, as you may judge, a quick run to
the southward, having on our way made three captures, and by having to
send prize crews away in them our strength was considerably diminished.
Still our captain, Simon Avery--you may have heard of him, sir--was not
the man to give up while there was a chance of falling in with other
vessels.  Short-handed as we were, we had to keep watch and watch; and
yesterday morning, while the watch below were asleep, and most of the
hands on deck much in the same state, the ship was struck by a squall,
and before sheet or brace could be let go, over she went and began to
fill.  I had just time, with three others, to get hold of a half-hatch,
to cut some spars adrift, and to shove off to a distance, when down she
went, carrying with her every soul on board.  I don't wish to harrow the
young lady's feelings by describing the scene.  A few floated up and
shouted out for help, but we couldn't give it, for our own raft was
already loaded.  Before many minutes were over, even the stoutest
swimmers had sunk beneath the surface.  I had got hold of an axe and a
coil of rope, and we managed to lash the spars to a grating.  While so
employed, one of the men slipped off; as he couldn't swim, he was
drowned, and thus we had more room.  The sea rapidly got up, and now
another of my companions was washed away, and then the last.  I secured
myself to the raft, resolved to struggle for life while I had strength;
but had not, fortunately, your ship stood towards me, and your brave
mate gallantly hauled me on board, I should to a certainty have been
lost."

"I am very thankful, sir, that my mate was the means of saving you,"
said Captain Tracy; "you cannot praise him too highly.  He has sailed
with me since he first came to sea, and though he took to the life
somewhat later than most people do, he has become a better seaman than
many of his elders."

"I don't doubt it, sir; I should judge from his looks that he is all you
describe him to be," answered the stranger.

"You say," resumed Captain Tracy, "that the English and French are at
loggerheads again--can you tell me whether any king's ships have been
sent out for the protection of our commerce, or, what is of more
consequence to us, whether many French privateers are already afloat?"

"As to that, it was reported that a fleet was fitting out at Portsmouth
with all despatch to be placed under the command of Sir Edward Hawke;
and it was said that Admiral Byng was to be sent to the Mediterranean
with a squadron.  Another fleet was already at sea, under the command of
Admiral Holburne; and the news has arrived that he came up with and
attacked the French fleet, commanded by Admiral Macnamara, off the
American coast, and captured two 64-gun ships, with a considerable
number of troops on board.  It is evident, therefore, that the English
are no longer asleep, as they have been for some time past, and are
intending to carry on the war with vigour.  With regard to the
Frenchmen, they are pretty wide awake, though they may not have expected
to be attacked so suddenly; and as far as I was able to learn, they have
not been slow in sending both men-of-war and privateers to sea--and I
would advise you to stand clear of any strange sail we may fall in with:
it is wiser to avoid a friend than to run the risk of being caught by a
foe."

"This is bad news indeed you give me, sir," said Captain Tracy, "though
I have to thank you for it, as it is better to be forewarned; and you
may depend on it, I will follow your advice.  Had I thought it likely
that war would break out, I should not have brought my young daughter to
sea; but she was anxious to come as she had no one to look after her,
and I intended this to be my last voyage, for I have knocked about
enough on the ocean to long to settle down quietly on shore.  We know
that we must run all risks, but I cannot bear the thought of what might
happen should we be captured by a picarooning privateer, for most of
them are but little better than pirates."  He said this in a low voice,
aside, to the stranger, intending that Norah should not hear him.

"I sincerely hope that we shall not fall in with a Frenchman of any
quality, either a man-of-war or one of the picarooning rascals you speak
of," answered the stranger, in a somewhat sarcastic tone.

"Well, Mr--I beg your pardon, you haven't mentioned your name--I have
again to thank you for the information and advice you have given me, and
I hope you'll find yourself at home on board this chip.  We're pretty
well provisioned, and we'll not starve you, at all events," said Captain
Tracy.

"Thank you, captain, I have no fear about the matter," answered the
stranger; "and as to my name, I quite forgot to give it.  Indeed, you
are not likely to have heard of me before, for I have been knocking
about in distant seas for most of my life--it is Lancelot Carnegan.  I
hail from Ireland, as you may suppose; and perhaps you may have already
discovered a touch of the brogue--but it has been well-nigh washed out
of me; still, though we children of Erin roam the world over, we never
entirely get rid of our mother tongue."

"Bad luck to us if we do," answered the captain, laughing.  "I might
have guessed that you came from the old country--and now you'll have an
opportunity, if you wish to remain when we reach harbour, of renewing
your acquaintance with it and any friends you may have."

"There are few, if any, who know me," answered Mr Carnegan.  "I played
truant at an early age, and have seldom since then set foot on my native
shore."

Norah had made no attempt to join in the conversation.  The new-comer,
now turning towards her, addressed her in a deferential tone, and with a
look which clearly showed the admiration he felt.  He inquired how she
liked the West Indies, and what parts of the islands she had seen, and
whether she enjoyed being at sea.  They were but commonplace questions,
but his manner encouraged her to speak freely, and she described with
much graphic power the scenery and places she had visited.

"I delight in the sea," she added.  "I enjoy it in all weathers; and
even when a storm has been raging I have felt no fear, for I knew that
the good ship is sound, and that those in command were well able to
manage her.  I should have been ready to accompany my father in as many
more voyages as he might wish to make, and it is not I who have
persuaded him to quit the sea.  I fear, indeed, that he will soon get
tired of the quiet life he will lead on shore."

A complimentary remark was rising to Mr Carnegan's lips, but he
restrained himself, not quite certain how it might be taken, and merely
said, "Captain Tracy will have no cause, I am sure, to regret his
choice.  Though I love the sea, I confess that I often long to take up
my abode in some romantic spot in the old country, with the
companionship of one whose happiness I could watch over.  In truth, I
could gladly spend the remainder of my days far away from war and
strife, and out of sight even of the stormy ocean--for, should I catch a
glimpse of that, I might at times be tempted to wish myself again
bounding over the buoyant wave."

The speaker perhaps expected to see Norah cast down her eyes as he
addressed her; but she looked up with a steady glance, and laughingly
answered, "If you think that, you have very little confidence in your
own resolution."

Mr Carnegan was about to reply, when the captain observed, "Let me
advise you, sir, to keep to the sea, unless you have some better calling
in view.  An idle life on shore won't suit you, a young man of spirit;
and those who try it have to repent of their folly.  But you will excuse
me when I say that I think you would find as honourable employment in
the merchant service as on board a privateer--not but that I am ready to
allow that many gallant fellows engage in that sort of work; though,
when you look at it in its true light, privateering is but licenced
robbery at the best."

"I cannot say that I so view it," observed Mr Carnegan; "while
benefiting ourselves and lining our own pockets, we are serving the
country.  We capture our foes in fair and open fight, while we run the
risk of being taken ourselves.  However, to prove to you that I don't
despise the merchant service, as you appear to be rather short-handed, I
shall be happy to do duty on board as one of your mates, if you will
trust me.  I don't ask for wages, but it will be a satisfaction to me to
feel that I am working my passage home."

"I don't doubt your knowledge of seamanship and navigation, and gladly
accept your offer," answered the captain.

Mr Carnegan was accordingly duly installed in the office of second mate
of the _Ouzel Galley_.



CHAPTER TWO.

FURTHER DISCUSSIONS ABOUT THE STRANGER--MR. CARNEGAN SHOWS HIS
ADMIRATION OF NORAH--APPROACHING IRELAND--A CONFESSION--A SAIL IN
SIGHT--CHASED--THE ENEMY GAINS ON THE OUZEL GALLEY--NORAH AND GERALD
SENT INTO THE HOLD--THE FIGHT BEGINS--THE OUZEL GALLEY HOLDS OUT
BRAVELY, BUT IS RAPIDLY OVERTAKEN--BOTH MATES WOUNDED--THE FRENCHMEN
BOARD THE OUZEL GALLEY--GERALD DEFENDS NORAH--THE FRENCH CAPTAIN'S
COURTESY--THE OUZEL GALLEY IN THE HANDS OF THE FRENCHMEN--THE COQUILLE
GOES OFF IN CHASE--A SLEEP-LOVING LIEUTENANT--AN IDEA OCCURS TO GERALD.

The wind continued fair and the weather fine, and the _Ouzel Galley_
made good progress on her voyage.  Norah was not free from anxiety with
regard to her father, who had sufficiently recovered his strength to
come on deck and carry on duty, but she longed to get him safe on shore,
where alone she believed he would be restored to his usual health.  The
new mate showed himself to be a good seaman, and was evidently
accustomed to command, as far as the captain could judge by the way in
which he trimmed sails and issued his orders to the crew.  They obeyed
him as seamen always do an officer whom they look upon as a good
sailor--not that they were particularly disposed to like him, for he
never spoke to any of them except to tell them what to do, and his tone
was always that of a person who intended to have his orders carried out.
Had he come on board in the ordinary way, they would have taken this as
a matter of course; but Pompey had expressed his opinion that there was
some mystery about him--he might be a true man, but it was possible that
he might be of the character of the well-known Flying Dutchman, and had
appeared only for the sake of betraying them.  The rest of the crew were
well disposed to take up this opinion; indeed, few believed that a
mortal man could have survived on the raft in the heavy sea there was
running at the time; and Mr Carnegan was more narrowly watched than he
suspected.

"I tell you what, mates," observed Pompey one evening, when he and two
or three of his especial chums were seated together in the forecastle,
"you may be sartain sure no good will come of having this stranger
aboard.  Why de captain make him mate is more than I can tell.  De oder
night, as he walked the deck shouting out to de hand on de fore-topsail
yard-arm, I see a flame of fire come of his mouth, and den I says to
myself, `I know who you are.'  I tell you only what true, as I am living
man."

"Shure, he was only knocking the ashes out of his pipe," remarked Dan
Connor; "it's one he brought on board with him, and I've seen him smoke
it many a time."

"He may have a pipe, but dat was no pipe he was smoking den," answered
the black.

"I ain't quite sure but as how Pompey isn't right," remarked Tom Stokes,
an English seaman.  "I've heard say that the Flying Dutchman he was
speaking of plays all sorts of tricks to get aboard; sometimes he comes
alongside in a boat with a bundle of letters, and woe betide the crew
who take them on board!  Their ship's doomed, and will be sure to blow
up, or be burnt, or go to the bottom, or run on a sunken reef.  To my
mind, half the ships that are cast away are lost by some such trick as
that.  Maybe he thinks he's been found out, and is now trying a new
dodge; if I had my will, we'd lay him by the heels some dark night and
heave him overboard--it's the only chance there is of saving the ship."

Meantime the subject of these remarks would have been very indifferent
to them had he heard what was said.  He was doing his best to ingratiate
himself with the captain and his fair daughter.  Whenever Norah was on
deck he was sure to be there also, and was always ready to assist her
when the sea was running somewhat high and the ship was tumbling about
more than usual.  She appeared to receive these attentions as a matter
of course, and always thanked him courteously.  She could not, however,
fail to remark that, where-ever he was standing, his eye was directed
towards her; and especially, if her father and Owen were below, that he
invariably drew near to enter into conversation.  It is possible that
she may have suspected the admiration she had excited, but she certainly
never, by word, or look, or manner, did anything to encourage him.  He
also was on his guard not to say anything which might annoy or alarm
her, while his manner was always deferential.  He continued on friendly
terms with Owen, and always spoke good-naturedly to Gerald, taking
evident pleasure in describing the countries he had visited and the
strange scenes he had witnessed, to which the boy always eagerly
listened.  Although the ship was short-handed, as it was of the greatest
importance to get home as soon as possible, all sail which could be
prudently set was carried night and day.  At that period it was the
custom on board merchant vessels to shorten sail at night, go that
should the ship be caught by a squall she might the better be prepared
for it; but as the two mates now took watch and watch during the hours
of darkness, they allowed all the sails to remain standing which had
been carried during the day.  A bright look-out was kept from the
mast-head from sunrise to sunset, and occasionally when a strange sail
was seen, as soon as it was ascertained in what direction she was
steering, the course was changed to avoid her.  As each day brought the
_Ouzel Galley_ nearer to the shores of Ireland, the captain's spirits
rose, as did his hopes of getting in safe.  The second mate seemed quite
as anxious on the subject as any one else on board; but Pompey was not
yet satisfied.

"We're not in yet," he whispered to Dan Connor.  "Why he not send de
ship to de bottom before dis I not know; but you see--he play some
scurvy trick before he done wid us."

Fortunately for the second mate, the rest of the crew were not so deeply
imbued with Pompey's opinions as to induce them to act according to his
advice; but they still regarded Mr Carnegan with suspicion, though they
obeyed his commands with as much alacrity as at first.  Several other
strange sail were seen in the distance, and as before carefully avoided.
The ship had got to about the latitude of Lisbon.

"How soon may we expect to get into port?" asked Norah of her father.

"If the wind holds fair, another week will carry us safe up to the quay
of Waterford," answered the captain; "but we may meet with a head wind,
and it may be a fortnight or three weeks before we make the land--but
we'll hope for the best, and it will not be for lack of doing all that
seamen can do if we don't succeed."

The sea was smooth, the wind being from the southward, while a light
mist prevented the sun's rays being over oppressive.  Norah as usual
went on deck after breakfast with her work and a book.  Owen was below;
it was the second mate's watch, and soon after she had taken her seat he
approached her.

"In a few days, Miss Tracy, we shall be doomed to part," he said, "It
may be that, compelled by a cruel fate to wander over the world, I may
never again meet you; but, believe me, the time I have spent on board
this ship I shall ever look upon as the happiest of my life."

"You are very good to say so," answered Norah, "though I should have
supposed, from the account you have given of yourself, that you would
have met with many other opportunities of enjoying life far more than
you could have done on board the _Ouzel Galley_."

"It is not the place, Miss Tracy, but the person with whom one is
associated, on which one's happiness depends.  I speak from the depths
of my heart--if I could hope to enjoy existence with you, I would not
exchange my lot for that of the proudest monarch on earth," said Mr
Carnegan.

Before Norah could reply, the look-out from the mast-head shouted, "A
sail on the larboard bow!"  At that instant, as he spoke, the captain
came on deck, followed by Owen.

"What course is she steering?" asked the former.

"About south-east, sir, close-hauled," was the answer.

While the captain was speaking Owen had gone forward, and was now making
his way up the fore-rigging.  He quickly reached the mast-head; he had
not been there many seconds before the breeze freshening blew away the
mist, disclosing to view a large ship under all sail, her hull already
rising above the horizon.  Unslinging his glass, he directed it towards
her.

"What does she look like?" asked the captain.

"She is flush-decked, and I make out ten ports on a side, sir," answered
Owen from aloft.  Saying this, he quickly came down on deck, from whence
the movements of the stranger, which was standing directly across the
course the _Ouzel Galley_ was steering, could be discerned as well as
from the mast-head.

"If we hold on as we are now we shall be within range of her guns in
less than an hour, and I much fear that she is an enemy, sir," said
Owen, as he came up to the captain.

"We'll do our best, then, to keep out of her way," was the answer.
"Port the helm--man the larboard braces--ease off the starboard braces
and bowlines!  We'll stand away to the sou'-west till we run her out of
sight; it will cause us some delay, but it will be better than running
the risk of capture."

The two mates and Gerald, with all hands, went to the ropes, while the
captain taking the helm, the ship was brought on a wind, the mizen,
which had hitherto been furled, being also set, and the _Ouzel Galley_
stood away on a bowline under all sail to the south-east.

"She has the look of a fast craft, and is probably strong-handed,"
observed the second mate.

"We shall soon see which has, notwithstanding, the faster pair of
heels--the _Ouzel Galley_ is no sluggard, Mr Carnegan, and we may still
hope to run the stranger out of sight.  Let her go along, my lad," said
the captain to the man at the helm; "she sails best two points off the
wind; we'll run on till dark, Owen, and if by that time the stranger
isn't to be seen, we'll tack, and may chance to give her the go-by."

"I trust we may, sir," said Owen, in a tone of some doubt; "we have the
advantage of being well to windward, though, as Mr Carnegan was
observing, if she has a strong crew she can tack in half the time we
can, and we couldn't do better than to stand on till nightfall, as you
propose, and then try to give her the slip."

The eyes of all on board were naturally turned towards the stranger.  As
yet, however, it was difficult to say whether or not she was gaining on
them.  Norah saw that her father and his mates were anxious on the
subject, but, being sure that they were acting for the best, restrained
her own feelings--yet, as may be supposed, she could not help reflecting
what might be her and her father's fate should the stranger prove to be
an enemy and capture them.  She had often heard of the cruelties to
which the prisoners of privateers were exposed, and she was well aware
of her father's hatred to the system, although privateering was
generally allowed to be honourable and lawful.  The stranger, though an
enemy, might be a king's ship; and, if so, she might hope to receive
courteous treatment from the French officers.  Though she had resolved
not to ask questions, she listened to her father's and Owen's opinions
as to the character of the stranger.  At noon, which soon arrived, the
captain and his mates came on the poop to take an observation in order
to ascertain the ship's position.  They had before this run some way to
the northward of the latitude of Lisbon.

"Sure, it's enough to provoke a saint," exclaimed Gerald, who was
accustomed to express himself somewhat vehemently; "if it hadn't been
for that fellow out there we should have been half across the Bay of
Biscay by this time or to-morrow.  I only hope, if he comes up with us,
that we'll be after giving him a good drubbing; it will serve him right
if we send him to the bottom."

"What, do you think our father intends to fight the strange ship, should
she prove to be an enemy?" asked Norah, with some natural trepidation in
her voice.

"I'm sure we're not going to be taken, and lose the ship and our cargo,
and be made prisoners and ruined without having a fight for it,"
answered Gerald, "especially as Owen says that he feels pretty sure she
is a privateer.  Why he thinks so, I can't quite make out, except that
her masts rake more than those of most men-of-war and her sails are cut
somewhat differently--it is impossible to be certain."

"Grant Heaven that, if there is a fight, our father and you and Owen may
be preserved!" murmured Norah.

"They wouldn't fight without a good hope of success--but we must run our
chance," said Gerald, laughing; "but, you know, we shall stow you down
in the hold among the cargo safe enough."

"Oh no, no!  I hope if there is a fight that I may be allowed to remain
on deck, or at least in the cabin, where I may be ready to help any who
are hurt," exclaimed Norah.

"That would never do," answered Gerald; "you might be hit as well as
anybody else, and you wouldn't like to have a leg or an arm shot off."

Poor Norah shuddered at the thoughtless remark of her brother.  Gerald
observed the expression of her countenance.

"I didn't intend to frighten you," he said; "I hope that none of us will
be hurt--only of course there's a risk, and we must save you from being
exposed to it.  We shall only make a running fight of it, and try to
knock away some of the enemy's spars and prevent her from following us.
If she were to come up with us, she is so much bigger than we are, and
so much more heavily armed, with probably six times as many hands, that
we should have no chance in a broadside fight."

"If we are captured what will happen?" asked Norah.

"I suppose we shall be carried into a French port, and be kept prisoners
till the war is over, and you and I must learn to talk French.  It won't
be so very bad, after all, so you needn't look so grave, Norah,"
answered Gerald.

"It will break our poor father's heart, I fear," answered Norah, "and
Owen will be miserable."

"Well, then, though wishing it won't exactly help us, we'll hope to
escape, and that none of the dreadful things you expect will happen,"
said Gerald.

Though Gerald made light of the matter, others on board did not do so.
From the first Owen had had little doubt that the ship chasing them was
French.  The captain differed from him, but agreed that she was probably
a privateer.  Though her masts raked, so did those of many British
ships, especially of those sailing from Jersey and Guernsey, while there
was nothing that he could see remarkable about the cut of her sails.
The second mate expressed no opinion.  After a time, however, a cloud
was seen to gather on his brow.

"I thought you boasted of this craft being remarkably fast," he observed
to Owen.  "Now, as far as I can judge, that ship yonder is sailing
nearly two feet to our one, and will be within hail of us before dark."

"She sails faster than we do, I acknowledge; but you over-estimate her
speed," answered Owen.  "I still expect that we shall keep well ahead of
her till dark, and we may then alter our course and escape."

"I tell you your hopes are vain; yonder ship is as fast a craft as any
out of a French port--we haven't a chance of escaping her," replied Mr
Carnegan.

"You know her, then?" answered Owen.

"I have seen her more than once--before the war broke out, of course--
and, from her size and the weight of her metal, if we attempt to fight
her we shall be sent to the bottom," was the answer.

"The captain intends to try and knock her spars away, and thus to enable
us to escape," said Owen.

"She is more likely to send our masts over the side than to suffer any
harm our popguns can do her," observed the second mate.

Captain Tracy, who had been watching the stranger for some time, now
summoned them both and asked their opinion.  They repeated what they had
before said.  "Owen, we can trust our crew?" he observed.

"Even the sick men would be ready to fight--we can depend on all of
them," said Owen.

"Then we'll train two guns aft, and fight them as long as our own masts
stand," exclaimed Captain Tracy.  "Hoist our ensign, that there may be
no mistake--though I own that I have now little doubt of that fellow
being a Frenchman.  We shall soon see--yes--there, up goes the white
flag with the lilies of France; it won't be long before she is within
range."

"I think not, sir," observed the second mate, "and if you take my advice
you will not attempt to fight--even if we do knock away a spar or two,
with her crew of not less than a hundred and twenty men, I'll warrant
she'll speedily repair her damages; and as she carries heavy metal, if I
mistake not, her first broadside will send us to the bottom."

The captain made no reply.  "Gerald," he said, "take your sister down to
the hold--Dan Connor and Tim will arrange a secure place for her, and I
put her under your charge--remember, you're to remain with her, and not
to return on deck till I send for you."

Gerald looked very much disappointed, but he well knew that it would be
vain to expostulate.  He had fully expected to engage in the fight, or
to "take part in the fun," as he called it.  Norah had before this gone
into the cabin, to which Gerald repaired, and with no very good grace
delivered their father's orders.  Without a murmur Norah prepared to
obey them.  The second mate and some of the men were engaged in dragging
one of the guns aft.  As she came on deck, Norah found her father
standing near the companion-hatch.  Embracing her, he kissed her brow
and said, "Don't be alarmed, my child; we shall manage to escape the
Frenchman, I hope, and come off without damage.  Go into your nest, now,
with Gerald, and I hope before long I shall have a good report to give
you."

As she went forwards towards the main hatchway she glanced at Owen; he
sprang to her side and without stopping to ask leave assisted her below.
It was a dreary place which had been prepared for her among
sugar-hogsheads, rum casks, and packages of other West India produce.
Dan Connor, who had been till that moment busy in arranging it, appeared
with a lantern to light them the latter part of the way.  Norah looked
with no little dismay at the dark recess in which she and Gerald were to
pass the period of the impending action.

"Shure, Miss Norah, you'll find it more aisy and pleasant than you think
for," said Dan, who observed the expression of her countenance, "when
the lantern's hung up, as I'll be doing to give you light; and I'd make
bold to say that if you'd brought a book to read, or just some work to
amuse yourself, you'd be after finding the time pass pleasantly enough
away."

Norah, as may be imagined, felt little disposed to read or work, or to
fancy that the time could pass pleasantly.  She almost smiled at the
idea.  It appeared to her that it would be the most dreadful period of
her existence.  On entering, however, she found that Dan had arranged a
seat with some cushions and a grating to keep her feet off any moisture
which might have oozed out of the casks, Dan secured the lantern, as he
proposed, to a sugar cask, while Owen pressed Norah's hand.

"Hope for the best, dearest," he whispered.  "I'd have given worlds to
save you from this; but we can trust to One who rules all things for
protection, and we may still escape the threatened danger.  A calm may
come on before the Frenchman gets up with us, or an English ship of
superior force may heave in sight--hope for the best; I must stay no
longer.  Gerald, you heard the captain's orders--let nothing induce you
to quit your sister.  I know your spirit, and that you'd rather be on
deck; but your duty is to remain below, and by doing your duty, however
much against the grain it may be, you'll be showing truer courage than
by going where round shot and bullets may be flying round your head like
hail."

"You are right, Mr Massey, and you may depend on my not quitting Norah,
whatever happens;" and Gerald sat himself down on a tub which Dan had
placed for him, and resolutely folded his arms as if he felt that in no
other way could he keep his post.  The next moment Owen sprang upon
deck, followed by Dan.  Never before had Owen Massey been so anxious to
avoid a fight--indeed, all on board were, for various reasons, much of
the same mind.  Captain Tracy was resolved to escape if he could, and to
fight only if it would enable him to do so.  The hope that a British
ship of war might heave in sight had only just occurred to Owen when
below with Norah, and as soon as he returned on deck he went up to the
mast-head, almost expecting to see another ship standing towards the
enemy; but though he swept the whole horizon with his glass, not a sail
appeared in sight, and he had quickly to descend to attend to his
duties.  The crew, meantime, were bringing up powder and shot from
below, and loading the guns.  Two of the longest pieces had already been
run out astern; they were of brass, and of small bore, but were able to
send a shot as far as most guns in use in those days.  The others were
smaller pieces, carried for the purpose of defending the ship, should
she be attacked by any of the picaroons, at that time the pest of the
Caribbean Sea.  When Owen again looked out, he saw that the enemy had
considerably overhauled them since he went below.  Had he before
entertained any doubt about the character of the vessel chasing them, it
completely vanished, and his experienced eye assured him that she must
be a French privateer.  The wind also continued as steady as at first,
and with deep regret he was convinced that the stranger was superior to
the _Ouzel Galley_ on any point of sailing, whether before the wind,
going free, or close-hauled; while her numerous crew would give her
every possible advantage in manoeuvring, or repairing damages should any
of her spars or rigging be knocked away.

Meantime, poor Norah and her brother remained in their dark cell far
down in the hold of the ship, listening anxiously for any sounds which
might betoken the commencement of the action.  The air was close and
redolent of unsavoury odours, and would of itself have been sufficient
to weigh down their young hearts; it might be a place of safety, but
they would both of them infinitely rather have been on deck and able to
see what was going forward.  Norah sat with her hands clasped on the
couch Dan had arranged for her; while Gerald, soon losing patience, got
up, and, as there was no room to pace backwards and forwards, could only
give vent to his feelings by an occasional stamp of the foot, as he
doubled his fists and struck out at an imaginary Frenchman.

"Oh, I do hope we shall thrash that fellow," he exclaimed, "big as he
looks.  I am glad our father didn't determine to give in without
fighting.  It wouldn't have been like him if he had, though the second
mate advised him to do so.  I should have thought Mr Carnegan was full
of pluck, but he appeared to me to show the white feather, and I'm not
at all sure how he'll behave--not that it much matters, for I am very
certain that Owen will make the men stand to their guns as long as
there's a shot in the locker."

"I only hope that we may avoid fighting altogether," said Norah.  "Owen
thought it possible that an English man-of-war might appear in sight and
put the enemy to flight, or that we may keep ahead till nightfall, and
then manage to escape."

"Depend upon it, the Frenchman is coming up much too fast to give us any
chance of keeping ahead till dark--we must not expect that.  I have more
confidence in our knocking away some of his spars; Owen is a first-rate
shot, and if it can be done he'll do it.  Don't be cast down, Norah; it
would never have done for you to remain where you might have run the
risk of being hit.  Our father was right in sending you here, though I
wish he had allowed me to stay on deck--but then, you see, you couldn't
be left alone; and if, after all, the Frenchmen do take us, why, there
would have been no one to protect you.  That consoles me for remaining
here, and if the worst happens I'll fight for you.  See, I've brought a
cutlass, and a brace of pistols, and it would be a hard matter for any
one to get in here without my leave."

"Oh, it would be dreadful!" cried Norah, shuddering at the thought of
the ship being captured--for she could not conceal from herself that
such might too probably be the case.  "Don't attempt to fight if any of
our enemies should find their way down here--it would be utterly
useless, and only exasperate them."

"Well, perhaps they won't find their way down here," said Gerald, who
directly he had uttered anything calculated to alarm his sister was
anxious to remedy the mistake; "let us try and talk of something else,
and wait patiently for what may happen."

The proposal was not as easily carried out as made; in another minute
Gerald was again talking of what might or might not occur.  Some time
went by.  "Hark! hark! what is that?" exclaimed Norah suddenly, as the
boom of a gun, which from its faintness showed that it must have been
fired at a distance, reached their ears.

"There comes the first shot, but it didn't strike us--the Frenchman is
trying whether he has got us within range," said Gerald.

"It shows, though, that the enemy must be very near," cried Norah.

"It will be the sooner over," said Gerald.  "We shall hear our guns go
off soon--they'll make a much greater noise; but don't be frightened,
Norah dear--they, at all events, will not injure you."

"I am not thinking of myself," answered Norah, "but for those on deck,
and for our poor father--he is still so ill and so little able to bear
all this anxiety--and for Owen, should they be struck by those dreadful
cannon-balls."

"The round shot, you mean," said Gerald; "but they are not to be so much
dreaded, after all.  They may fall pretty thickly aboard without doing
any harm.  I've heard some of our men who were in the last war say that
they've known ships firing away at each other for an hour or more
without anybody being hit.  Hark! there's another gun; that came from
the enemy, but the shot missed us.  I wonder we don't begin to fire--we
soon shall, though, no doubt about that.  I wish that I had brought down
the boat's compass with us, to know how we were steering; we are
keeping, however, on the same tack as before--I can tell that by the
heel of the ship."

Norah, while Gerald was talking, held her breath, expecting every moment
to hear the guns go off with a loud roar, not aware how much the sound
would be deadened before it reached the hold.  Neither she nor Gerald
had at first observed the increased motion of the ship, or that she was
heeling over to larboard considerably more than at first.  Gerald now,
however, remarked it.

"The breeze has freshened," he exclaimed, "though I don't know if that
will be in our favour.  I wish that our father had not told me to stay
here without moving--I would run upon deck to see how things are going
on, and be back in a moment."

"Gerald, not for my sake but for your own, I earnestly pray you to
remain--remember, our father ordered you not to leave this, whatever
might happen," exclaimed Norah.

"Yes, I know that; I was only saying what I should like to do," answered
Gerald.

Nearly another minute elapsed, during which not a word was spoken; then
came a much louder report than had before been heard.

"That was one of our guns, I am sure of it," exclaimed Gerald; though,
from its deadness, Norah could scarcely believe that it was from one of
the _Ouzel Galley's_ guns.

"Hurrah! we've begun at last," cried Gerald, "no fear; I shouldn't be
surprised to find that the shot had knocked away one of the enemy's
topsail yards."

Another and another gun followed in rapid succession; at intervals could
be clearly distinguished the firing of the enemy's guns, and every now
and then a report succeeded by a loud thud, showing that the shot had
struck some part of the _Ouzel Galley_.

"Fire away, my boys, fire away!" shouted Gerald.  "I wish that I could
be on deck, even if I'd nothing better to do than hand up the powder!"

Norah again entreated him to remain.  For some time the firing
continued, but from the sound of the enemy's guns it was pretty clear
that the ships had not yet got to close quarters.

"Sure, we must be giving it them," cried Gerald.  Scarcely had he spoken
when there came a loud crashing sound, as if one of the masts had been
knocked away and had fallen on the deck.  Cries and shrieks of injured
men writhing in pain penetrated even to the depths of the hold.

"Oh that some one would come and tell us what has happened!" exclaimed
Norah.  "I wonder our father or Owen don't send--it must be something
dreadful."

"I've heard of ships holding out, even though a mast has been shot
away," said Gerald; "we don't know what has happened to the enemy--
perhaps she is worse off than we are."

Not another gun was fired from the deck of the _Ouzel Galley_; that was
a bad sign, and presently afterwards there came a violent concussion and
a grating sound, as if one ship had run alongside the other.

"Gerald, oh, what is taking place?" cried Norah, seizing her brother's
hand.

"We are about to be boarded, or perhaps we are going to board the
enemy," he answered; "I don't see why one thing shouldn't happen as well
as the other."

"I am afraid it is as you first suggested," said Norah.  "Hark to those
loud shouts; they are the voices of Frenchmen--they must have boarded
us.  I hear their feet tramping on deck, and there they come down below.
Our people must have been quickly overpowered; what resistance could
such a mere handful offer to the numerous crew of the enemy?  Oh! our
poor father and Owen--can they wish us to remain here?  They may be
wounded and bleeding to death, and may require our help."

It was now Gerald's turn to insist on obeying orders.  "Norah, Norah!
stay where you are," he exclaimed.  "Should the Frenchmen have boarded
us, you might meet them, and we can't tell how they might behave.  If
any come here they'll have to repent their audacity," he added, placing
himself with a pistol in one hand and a cutlass in the other at the
entrance of Norah's retreat.

"I must fight for you if they come down here--it is my duty, and I'll do
it," answered Gerald to his sister's expostulations; for she dreaded
lest, by offering resistance, he might induce the enemy to kill him.
He, however, would not listen to her entreaties.  "At all events, don't
speak, Norah," he said; "the Frenchmen may hear us and find us out--
whereas if we remain quiet we may escape discovery till the boarders
have gone back to their own ship and ours is left in charge of a prize
crew, and we may be very sure that neither our father nor Owen will be
induced to quit the _Ouzel Galley_ without us."

Norah saw the prudence of this advice.  She wisely also put out the
lantern, the light from which would very certainly have betrayed their
hiding-place.

We must now return on deck.  As soon as Norah and Gerald had gone below,
the captain addressed the crew and asked whether they would stick by him
and assist in making every effort he could devise for escaping.  They
one and all declared that they were ready to fight to the last to
preserve the _Ouzel Galley_ from capture and to escape a French prison.

"Then we'll make a running fight of it, my lads," he said.  "The enemy
has probably much heavier metal and many more men than we have, but our
two guns will be of as much service as her twenty if we can keep her as
she now is, right astern--and that's what I intend to do."

The second mate had narrowly scanned the French ship.  "I can tell you
what, Captain Tracy," he said at length, "you haven't a chance of
escaping from her.  I know her and her commander well, and not a better
or more determined seaman ever walked the deck of a ship.  I have reason
to be grateful to you for the way I have been treated on board this
vessel, and to your first mate for saving my life; and for your own sake
I would advise you to haul down your flag at once and surrender--you
will probably be far better treated than if you lead the Frenchman a
long chase and are taken at last."

"I am obliged to you for your good intentions in giving the advice you
do," said Captain Tracy, "but my principle is to hold out till the last
hope of success has gone--and we haven't quite arrived at that point
yet.  If you don't wish to fight you can go below."

"You mistake me," answered the second mate, in a somewhat angry tone,
and he walked away.  The next instant a puff of smoke was seen to issue
from the bows of the French ship, and a shot came flying across the
water; but it fell short of the _Ouzel Galley_.

"Stand by to fire our stern-chasers, Mr Massey," sang out the captain,
"but we'll let the enemy find out the range before we throw a shot
away."

The captain did not fail to keep his eye on the canvas, to be ready to
alter his course should there be the slightest shift of wind.  The
second mate continued walking the deck in sullen silence, determined
apparently to take no further part in defence of the ship.  Owen stood
ready, match in hand, to fire the stern-chasers.  In the course of a few
minutes the Frenchman fired another shot; it went ricocheting over the
water, and passed the quarter of the _Ouzel Galley_.

"Our guns will carry as far as the Frenchman's," exclaimed the captain.
"Now see what you can do, Owen."

The first mate, looking along his gun, fired; the shot struck the enemy.
The crew of the _Ouzel Galley_ watched eagerly for the effect of the
shot.  It went through the Frenchman's fore-topsail.  A loud cheer
showed their satisfaction.

"Well done, Owen--fire the other and try to wing him," cried the
captain.  While the crew were loading the first gun, Owen fired the
second.  The captain, who had his glass turned towards the enemy,
shouted, "Hurrah! it's struck the fore-topsail yard."

The spar, however, remained standing, and some of the Frenchmen were
seen running aloft to fish it.  Owen sprang back to the first gun he had
fired, and again discharged it; but the enemy at that moment kept away,
and before what damage it had effected could be seen, clouds of smoke
issued from her, and the shot from her whole broadside came rushing
towards the chase.  They were mostly aimed high, and either went through
the sails or passed by without doing any injury; but two struck the
quarter, and another glanced along the side, leaving a long white
furrow.

"Those shots were well aimed, but if she plays that trick often we shall
have a better chance of escaping," observed the captain, calmly; "try
another shot, Owen."

The French ship quickly came up to the wind.  Owen again fired, and one
of the Frenchmen was seen to drop to the deck.  The enemy had now
brought a gun on the forecastle, from which they opened fire in return
to the _Ouzel Galley's_ stern-chasers.  Both vessels then fired away as
fast as the guns could be loaded and run out; but though most of Owen's
shot told with some effect, the damage he produced was speedily
repaired, while several of the Frenchmen's shot struck the _Ouzel
Galley_, though as yet no one had been injured.  The former was,
however, in the mean time, creeping up nearer and nearer, and also, from
sailing closer to the wind, weathering on the chase.  The second mate,
who had been walking the deck with as much calmness as if no fight was
going on, again came up to the captain.

"I before warned you that it would be useless to contend with yonder
ship," he said, "and before many minutes are over we shall have the shot
from her broadside crashing on board us.  By holding out you risk your
own and your people's lives, and the lives of others dear to you--for it
is more than possible that another broadside will send the ship and all
in her to the bottom.  We must--"

Before the captain could reply the enemy fired his two foremost guns,
the shot from which shattering the bulwarks sent pieces of splinter
flying about, one of which struck Carnegan on the arm.

"It might have been worse," he observed; and after staggering a few
paces he recovered himself.  He added, "I will thank some one to bind up
my wound."

"Shure, I'll be glad enough to do that same," exclaimed Dan Connor; "and
if you'll just step into your cabin, sir, we'll have you all to rights
in a jiffy."

"I shall not be the only one hit," observed the second mate, as he
allowed Dan to take off his coat.

Still the captain had not abandoned all hopes of escaping, and kept to
his resolution of persevering to the last.  He ordered the guns on the
lee side to be hauled over to windward, and as they could be brought to
bear on the enemy they were fired; but what effect they produced was not
perceptible, as both vessels were encircled in smoke.  Several more shot
struck the _Ouzel Galley_, and at length two of her gallant crew fell,
desperately wounded, to the deck, and the next instant a third had his
head taken off.  Still no one thought of giving in.

"We'll shift the stern-chasers, Owen," cried the captain; "they'll soon
be of little use where they are."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the first mate, and he with several hands began
to haul one of the guns along the deck, when again the enemy fired his
whole broadside.  The guns had been elevated--the shot whistled
overhead--a crash was heard, and down came the main-topmast of the
_Ouzel Galley_ on her deck, striking dead another of her crew.  The
survivors made a desperate effort to clear the wreck and prevent the
fore-topmast from sharing the same fate, but even the captain now saw
that all hope of escaping the enemy must be abandoned.  On looking round
to direct Owen to haul down the ensign, to his grief he saw that he too
was wounded, and apparently severely so from the stream of blood flowing
from his shoulder.  At the same moment the French ship, which had
rapidly shot up abeam, ran alongside and, throwing grappling-irons on
board the chase, held her fast, while a party of the enemy headed by an
officer leaped on the deck from the bows.  Resistance was vain, but a
few of the British crew instantly attempted to defend themselves with
their cutlasses, the fallen topmast serving as a barricade; but the
Frenchmen scrambling over it, the former were quickly driven aft.  Owen
had in the mean time hauled down the ensign by the captain's orders, and
shouted out that they surrendered.  The enemy, however, enraged at the
stubborn resistance they had met with, were rushing aft, when the second
mate appeared from the cabin with his arm in a sling and encountered the
officer who led the boarders.

"You will not injure a beaten foe!" he exclaimed.  "You know me, though
you must be surprised to find me where I am.  See, my shipmates have
surrendered and can offer no further resistance."

As he spoke he put out his right hand, which the French officer grasped,
and together they walked aside, where they held a hurried conversation
while the survivors of the crew threw down their weapons.  The
Frenchmen, however, while their leader's eye was off them, rushed into
the cabin and began ransacking the lockers and appropriating such
articles as took their fancy.  Dan, on observing this, sprang before
them and placed himself at the door of Norah's berth, into which he
would allow no one to enter.

"You can't come in here, mounseers," he exclaimed; "shure, you'll be too
polite to frighten a lady out of her wits--and it's already fright
enough she's had with hearing all the hullabaloo you've been after
making."

Dan hoped by this artifice to prevent the Frenchmen searching for Norah,
which he was afraid they might have done had they broken into the cabin
and discovered female gear.  As it was, he made them understand that the
captain's wife was the occupant of the cabin.

Meantime Owen, overcome by loss of blood, sank exhausted on the deck.
The French officer, a fair, slightly built man, with more the appearance
of a Briton than a Gaul, now approached Captain Tracy and addressed him
in English with but little French accent.  "I must compliment you on
your bravery, though I cannot do so on your discretion in attempting to
resist me," he said.  "Your vessel has become my prize, and, as I
understand that your cargo is of value, I must send you into a French
port; but having heard that you have the yellow fever on board, I will
not remove any of your people to my ship, though I will leave an
adequate prize crew to navigate her."

Just then the report of a pistol was heard, and a shriek was heard
coming from the hold of the ship.

"What's that?" exclaimed the French officer.

"My daughter!--save her from your people!" cried Captain Tracy, hurrying
towards the main hatchway.  The more active Frenchman sprang before him
and descended, followed by the captain and Carnegan, who, suffering from
his wound, was less able than they were to move quickly.  The Frenchman
by his loud shouts soon let his men know that he was approaching.  On
reaching the hold he found Gerald in the hands of several of them, while
Norah was endeavouring to protect him from their rage which he had
excited.

"Let go that boy!" shouted the French officer, at the same time drawing
his sword to enforce his order.  He was quickly obeyed.  "Who is this
young lady?" he asked, turning to the captain; "I was not aware that she
was on board."

"She is my daughter, sir; and I sent her down here to be out of danger
during the fighting.  I am sure I can trust to your gallantry to protect
her," said Captain Tracy.

"You may depend on my doing so," answered the French officer; then
addressing Gerald, he said, "Come here, my lad--you are a brave boy, I
see, and thinking my people were about to insult your sister, you fought
for her.  The fellow you wounded deserved his punishment.  Return on
deck and go on board your own ship," he continued, addressing his crew
in French.  The men quickly obeyed him.  "And now, young lady, let me
escort you to your cabin," he added; "you need be under no further
anxiety, as no one will venture to intrude on you."

Carnegan had before this reached the hold.  He was about to assist Norah
in ascending.

"I must claim that honour," said the Frenchman; and, offering his hand,
he conducted Norah out of the dark place.  No sooner had they reached
the deck than her eyes fell on Owen lying wounded on the poop.
Disregarding every one, she threw herself down by his side.

"Oh, speak to me, Owen--tell me where you are hurt!" she exclaimed.
Owen tried to answer her, but could only point to his wounded shoulder.
"He will bleed to death!" she cried.  "Run, Gerald--get some bandages
from the cabin.  Oh, father, come and help me!"

"I will send my surgeon to dress the young officer's wound," said the
French captain, approaching; "he will attend also to the other injured
men, and I regret that I cannot remain near you to be of any further
use."

Carnegan had watched Norah; an angry frown passed across his brow, but
he made no remark.  The French surgeon was quickly on board; he desired
that Owen should be carried to his cabin, where he speedily dressed his
wound and gave him a stimulant which restored him to consciousness.  He
then left directions with Norah how to treat his patient, assuring her
that the hurt was very slight, and that he would soon recover.

"Come, my friend," said the French officer to Carnegan; "as you are not
from the West Indies, we shall have no fear of your giving us the fever.
I must therefore beg for your company--you will require the attendance
of the surgeon, and one wounded man is enough for that young lady to
look after."

Carnegan appeared to be expostulating; but the French officer refused to
accede to his request, and hurried him on board, without allowing him
even the opportunity of wishing farewell to Norah.

The French crew had in the mean time brought a fresh topmast on board
the _Ouzel Galley_, to supply the place of the one shot away, and had
been busily employed in getting it up.  They had not, however, completed
the work when the look-out from the mast-head of the French ship
shouted, "A sail to the south-east!" and they were immediately summoned
back to their own ship.  A young lieutenant and seven men, forming the
prize crew, then came on board the _Ouzel Galley_, the surgeon being the
last person to quit her.

"Who is the officer who boarded us, and what is the name of your ship?"
asked Captain Tracy, after expressing his thanks to the surgeon for his
attention.

"He is Captain Thurot, and his ship is the _Coquille_, the most
celebrated privateer out of Dunkirk," was the answer.  "It is positively
an honour to be captured by him--let that be your consolation, my dear
sir."

"Faith, it's but a poor consolation, then," answered Captain Tracy; "but
I thank you for suggesting even a shadow of comfort.  I will follow your
directions with regard to my poor wounded fellows, and once again beg to
express my gratitude for what you have done for them."

The _Coquille_ immediately casting off her prize, made all sail in chase
of the stranger, the rapidly approaching shades of evening soon
concealing her from sight.  The French prize crew, aided by the seamen
of the _Ouzel Galley_, went on with the work which had been left
incomplete of setting up the main-topmast rigging and getting the yard
across.  Night compelled them to knock off before the work was finished.
The wind, however, continued steady, and the ship ran on almost dead
before it under her head-sails the French officer, Lieutenant Vinoy, was
a remarkably polite young gentleman, but whether or not he was a good
seaman remained to be proved.  He expressed his wish in no way to
incommode Mademoiselle, as he called Norah, and declared that he should
be perfectly satisfied to occupy the second mate's cabin, and would on
no account turn her or her father out of theirs.  Besides himself, he
had but one person, a petty officer, capable of taking charge of a
watch, so that he had but very little time to bestow on the young lady
those attentions which, under other circumstances, he might have been
inclined to pay.  She too was fully engaged in attending on Owen and in
visiting with her father the wounded and sick men.

The night passed off quietly, and the whole of the first day was spent
by all hands in setting up the topmast.  It was not till supper-time
that the lieutenant entered the cabin, and, throwing himself on a chair,
expressed his satisfaction that the task was at length accomplished.
"And your men, captain, deserve credit for the way they have worked," he
observed; "they could not have done so more willingly had they been
performing the task for their own advantage.  For my part, I am pretty
well worn out--you may be sure that I shall sleep soundly during my
watch below."

"Do you generally sleep soundly, Lieutenant Vinoy?" asked Gerald.

"Yes, I am celebrated for it," answered the lieutenant, laughing; "it
takes a good deal to awake me when once my eyes are closed.  I am never
idle, you see; I work hard and sleep hard--that is as it should be."

Gerald recollected the lieutenant's remark, and a thought at that moment
came into his head which he kept there, turning it and round and over
and over till he carried it into execution.



CHAPTER THREE.

A HEAVY GALE AHEAD--THE WIND BECOMES FAIR--GERALD'S PLAN TO RECOVER THE
SHIP--CARRIES IT OUT--NORAH'S RESOLUTION--THE LIEUTENANT CAUGHT
NAPPING--THE FRENCHMEN'S WEAPONS SECURED--BUSSON AND THE FRENCH CREW
OVERPOWERED--GERALD AND NORAH HOLD LIEUTENANT VINOY IN CHECK--THE OUZEL
GALLEY REGAINED--A COURSE STEERED FOR WATERFORD--PRECAUTIONS AGAINST
RECAPTURE--APPROACH THE LAND.

The _Ouzel Galley_ had run very nearly as far north as the latitude of
Ushant, though she was still some way to the westward.  Her crew had got
on very well with their captors, who called them _bons garcons_, and
were perfectly willing to fraternise with them.  No one coming on board
would have suspected their relative positions.  The lieutenant made
himself at home in the cabin; he was polite and courteous to Norah and
Captain Tracy, and in no way presumed on being, as he was, the real
commander of the ship.  Gerald, however, did not seem inclined to
associate with him, and seldom came into the cabin when he was there.
Gerald, indeed, spent most of his time in assisting Norah to attend on
Owen, by whose side he would sit patiently for hours together; or else
he was holding secret confabulations with Dan Connor and Tim Maloney.
Although Owen had been greatly weakened by loss of blood, it saved him
from fever, and his wound, which was not deep, rapidly healed.  Of this,
however, Gerald advised Norah not to tell the lieutenant.  The other
wounded and pick men continued in their berths, apparently making no
progress towards recovery; so that, of the original crew of the _Ouzel
Galley_, there were only five hands besides Gerald and Tim fit for duty.
These, of course, the Frenchmen, with their officer, considered that
they were perfectly able to keep in order.  The weather, which had
hitherto been especially favourable, now greatly changed for the worse;
a strong north-easterly gale springing up threatened to blow the _Ouzel
Galley_ far away to the westward.  Lieutenant Vinoy was in despair; he
had been anticipating the pleasure of carrying his prize into Boulogne,
the port to which Captain Thurot had ordered him to take her, in the
course of two or three days--and now she might be kept out for a week,
or three weeks for that matter, and the risk of being recaptured greatly
increased.  Still he did his best to hold his ground, keeping the ship
close-hauled, now on one tack, now on the other; while either he or his
mate, Jacques Busson, were ever on deck ready to take advantage of any
change of wind.

"I shall sleep soundly when this vile wind from the eastward has ceased
to blow," exclaimed the lieutenant one day, on coming down to dinner.

"I hope you will," said Gerald, looking him boldly in the face.  "You
deserve some rest after keeping watch and watch so long."

"Gerald," said Norah, when they were together in the cabin, the captain
being on deck, "I suspect that you are thinking of attempting to recover
the vessel, and that our father has not been told what you intend to
do."

"Why should you suppose so?" asked Gerald.

"Because I see you constantly talking to the men in a way you never used
to do, and because you avoid the French lieutenant and speak to him in
so strange a manner," answered Norah.

"I won't deny that I have a plan in my head; but you are to know nothing
about it till it has succeeded," replied Gerald.  "One thing I'll tell
you, that I'm very sure it can't fail of success if all hands are true
to each other--and, Norah, don't be alarmed if you hear that two or
three more of our people are down with the fever; and if our father says
anything, you can just remark that I told you I was sure they would very
soon be well again."

"I have confidence in your discretion," said Norah, "but I pray that
there may be no necessity for violence, and that neither the young
officer nor any of the men may be injured."

"That depends on circumstances," said Gerald; "no one wishes to hurt a
hair of their heads if they behave themselves--if not, they must take
the consequences."

The gale increasing, it taxed all the strength of the Frenchmen, and the
few of the original crew who remained, to shorten sail; but anxious as
Lieutenant Vinoy was to get into port, he refused to heave to, and
continued beating the ship to windward.  At length, one day, soon after
noon, the wind began to decrease, and before dark a moderate breeze was
blowing from the southward.  Captain Tracy had every day taken an
observation, the French officer not objecting to his doing so, and
Gerald always asked him whereabouts they were, noting the spot carefully
down on the chart when the lieutenant was on deck, so that his
proceedings might not be remarked.  This day, according to Gerald's
calculations, they were exactly a hundred and fifty miles to the
southward of Waterford.  The night was cloudy, and, as there was no
moon, it was darker than usual.  One-half of the Frenchmen had turned
in, as had Lieutenant Vinoy; Jacques Busson had the middle watch.
Gerald had gone to his berth, but not to sleep; he merely pulled off his
shoes and jacket, and then, lying down, drew the blanket over him.
After waiting for about an hour he got up and groped his way to
Lieutenant Vinoy's cabin; the door was partly open--the sound which
issued from within showed that the French officer was fast asleep.
Gerald cautiously entered and possessed himself of a brace of pistols
which hung within reach of the lieutenant's hand at the head of his cot,
as also of a sword suspended to the bulkhead.  Carefully carrying them
out, he then, quietly closing the door, made his way to Owen Massey's
cabin.

"We could not have a better opportunity than the present," he whispered.
"If you will get ready, I will call my father and warn Norah to keep
quiet.  Here are the lieutenant's pistols--do you take one of them, and
I will carry the other and a sword to my father.  You will have no
difficulty in keeping the lieutenant shut up in his cabin, while I creep
forward and get Pompey and Dan to come aft and secure Jacques Busson.
Just as they do so I will give a whistle loud enough for you and my
father to hear, and immediately you do so you both will spring on deck
and overpower the man at the helm.  The rest of our people are prepared
to act as you have arranged; one of them will knock down the look-out
forward, while the others will throw themselves upon the other Frenchmen
and secure the hatches on those below.  You wished Tim and me to keep
ourselves free to act according to circumstances; Tim was to get into
the boatswain's storeroom, and to cut as many lengths of rope as we
shall require.  He will have them in readiness for the moment they are
wanted.  There can be no mistake, I hope?"

"None, provided the Frenchmen don't take alarm," answered Owen.  "You,
at all events, understand the plan perfectly."

"We may carry it out, too, I trust, without bloodshed," said Gerald.
"Shall I go forward and give the signal?"

"Yes.  I feel well able to do my part, though my left arm may not be of
as much use as I should wish," answered Owen.  "Call your father and
Norah, and then lose no time, or the lieutenant may be waking and give
us more trouble than is necessary."

Gerald then crept back into the state cabin.  He first went into Norah's
berth, and uttered a few words in her ear in a low voice.  She had not
undressed, having been warned by Owen of what was likely to happen, and
she had resolved to give every assistance in her power; though her arm
was weak, she possessed nerve and courage, and might be able to keep
watch over the French officer, or even to turn the scale in favour of
her friends, should any part of the plan miscarry.

"Give me the pistol," she whispered; "I know that it is ready for use,
as I saw the lieutenant loading it this afternoon."

"Do you think he suspected anything?" asked Gerald.

"That was no sign of his doing so," answered Norah; "he has frequently
withdrawn the charges and reloaded his pistols since he came on board."

"All right, you shall have it," said Gerald; "but you mustn't mind
shooting him if it is necessary.  Remember, if you don't we may possibly
be overpowered, and shall be much worse off than we are now."

"I hope that no such necessity may arise," answered Norah, and her voice
trembled as she spoke.

"There, stay quiet till you're called, and I'll take the sword to our
father," said Gerald.  The captain was awake, and prepared for the
attempt to recapture the ship, he and Owen having decided on the best
plan for carrying it out.  He took the sword which his son brought him--
the lamp which swung from the deck above shed a feeble light throughout
the cabin--he had just quickly dressed, when Norah appeared.

"I had wished you to remain in your berth till we had secured the
Frenchmen," he whispered.

"Pray do not insist on my doing so," she answered.  "I may be able to
help you, and I cannot bear the thoughts of hiding away while you are
exposed to danger.  Do let me try to be of use, father; I shall run no
greater risk than I should by keeping in my berth.  See, Gerald has
given me a pistol, and I know how to use it.  It will serve, at all
events, to frighten the Frenchmen."

The captain, seeing Norah was determined, at length consented to do as
she proposed.  Owen now joined them, and he and the captain crept to the
foot of the companion-ladder, up part of which they mounted, to be in
readiness to attack the man at the helm as soon as Gerald's signal
should be heard.  Meantime, Gerald had made his way on deck.  He had on
a dark jacket and trousers and dark worsted socks, and by creeping along
close under the bulwarks he would be able, he hoped, to get forward
without much risk of being seen.  Jacques Busson, the officer of the
watch, was slowly pacing the deck, now looking up at the canvas which
like a dark pyramid seemed to tower into the sky, now addressing the man
at the helm to keep the sails full or else to steer rather closer to the
wind, now shouting to the look-out forward to ascertain that he was
awake and attending to his duty.  Gerald stopped to observe what Jacques
Busson was about; he could distinguish the Frenchman's figure against
the sky, as he paced backwards and forwards on the raised poop, halting
now and then to take a glance to windward, and again taking a few steps
towards the stern.  The moment Gerald thought that his back was turned
he again crept forward.  He had no fear of being discovered by the man
at the helm, whose eyes, dazzled by the binnacle lamp, were not likely
to distinguish him.  Thus on he went, quickly doubling round the guns,
till he reached the fore hatchway, down which he slipped without being
perceived by either of the Frenchmen on deck, who were seated under the
weather bulwarks, and, as he rightly concluded, with their eyes shut.

"We shall have no difficulty in tackling those two fellows," he thought.
The Frenchmen were berthed on the starboard side of the forecastle, the
_Ouzel Galley's_ people on the larboard side; Gerald was thus easily
able to find his friends.  He had previously made all the arrangements
with Dan and Pompey--they had communicated them to the rest of the crew,
who only waited his arrival to carry them out.  Gerald and Dan had
undertaken to get possession of the Frenchmen's pistols.  It was the
most perilous part of the work to be performed, for should they be
awakened they might give the alarm, and put the watch on deck on their
guard.  Both Dan and the black had noted accurately the places where the
Frenchmen had put their weapons, who, instead of depositing the pistols
under their pillows, had hung them up just above their heads, within
reach of their hands, while their cutlasses lay by their sides.  To
remove the latter might be difficult without making a noise, and it was,
besides, considered of less importance to get hold of them.  Stealing
silently across the fore-peak, Gerald and Dan reached one of the bunks;
Dan then leaning over, felt for the occupant's pistol, which he
carefully unhooked and handed to Gerald, who, almost breathless with
eagerness, grasped it tightly.  They then went to the next berth, and
possessed themselves of the other weapons in the same manner.  The third
man turned as they approached, and uttered a few incoherent words; Dan
and Gerald crouched down out of sight lest he should awake, but a loud
snore showed them that there was no great fear of his doing that, and
his pistols were successfully abstracted.  The fourth man seemed
restless, and at length raised himself on his shoulder, and looked out.

"Qui va la?" he asked in French.  Gerald and Dan were standing in deep
shade, and remained still as mice, scarcely daring to breathe.  The
Frenchman, seeing no one, must have thought that he had been dreaming,
and again lying down composed himself to sleep.  They waited till they
heard him also begin to snore, and Dan then crept forward and got hold
of his pistols.  They each took one, and gave the remainder to their
shipmates.  Tim was then sent up, furnished with a piece of line, with
directions to conceal himself close to the hatchway, down which he was
to let the line hang, and his pulling it up was to be the signal that
the Frenchmen were off their guard.  On feeling it pulled all the party
below were to spring up on deck and overpower the crew forward.  Gerald
accompanied by Dan and Pompey were, however, to make their way aft in
the same cautious manner in which he had come forward.  The black, in
order to run less risk of being discovered, had stripped himself naked,
and oiled his body all over.  The doing so was his own idea, and he
grinned when he proposed it to Dan.

"I like one big eel, and if dey try to catch me I slip out of dere
hands," he observed, chuckling.

"We could not hope for a better opportunity than the present," whispered
Gerald into Dan's ear.

"All right, sir," answered Dan, touching Pompey and Tim.  The former, as
agreed on, noiseless as a cat, crept up on deck, when he immediately
gave a tug to the string.  Gerald, with Dan and Pompey, followed, and,
crawling on all-fours, began to make their way aft.  The booms and boats
would have concealed them for some part of the distance from Jacques
Busson even had it been daylight; they therefore ran no risk of being
discovered till they reached the after-part of the quarter-deck.  Pompey
had now to play the chief part in the drama.  Crawling up on the lee
side of the poop, he lay flat on the deck, while Gerald and Dan stole
after him, ready to spring up to his aid directly he had thrown himself
on Busson, leaving the helmsman to be dealt with by the captain and
Owen.  Pompey had just reached the break of the poop, having waited for
the moment that Jacques Busson's back was towards him: a few seconds
passed, when the Frenchman again turned round, and, advancing a pace or
two forward, shouted to the man on the look-out.  No answer came.
"Bete," he exclaimed, "he is asleep.  I must arouse him with a rope's
end."

As he spoke he advanced, about to descend the steps leading to the
quarter-deck--at that moment Pompey, who had been watching him as a
serpent does its expected victim, springing to his feet, threw his arms
round the Frenchman's neck, while he at the same moment shoved a large
lump of oakum into his mouth before he could even utter a cry.  Dan,
quick as lightning, joined him, while Gerald whistled shrilly the
promised signal to his father and Owen.  It was heard too by Tim, who
pulling the line, the rest of the _Ouzel Galley's_ crew sprang up, some
throwing themselves on the two Frenchmen slumbering under the weather
bulwarks before they had time to draw their pistols.  The men on the
forecastle, however, aroused by the noise, fired theirs at their
advancing opponents; but owing to the darkness and their hurry the
bullets missed their aim, and just as they got their hands on their
cutlasses they were both knocked over with well-planted blows in their
faces, and brought to the deck, at the same instant that Tim, to whom
the duty had been confided, closed down the hatch on the watch below.
The helmsman, on hearing the scuffle, was turning his head to see what
was the matter, when he found his arms pinioned by the captain and Owen.
On seeing this, Gerald ran forward to where Tim had concealed the rope.
He soon returned with a sufficient number of lengths to lash the arms
of Busson and the men, while Tim carried the rest of the rope to his
shipmates forward, who were not long securing the three Frenchmen.  The
remaining four of the French crew, who had been aroused by the scuffle,
were now making desperate efforts to force their way up on deck, and one
on the top of the ladder had just succeeded in lifting up the hatch,
when Tim saw his head protruding above the combing.

"Bear a hand here, or shure the mounseers will be out of the trap," he
shouted, at the same time seizing a capstan-bar, which was close at
hand, and dealing a blow with it at the head of the Frenchman, who fell
stunned off the ladder, back upon his companions following at his heels.
Notwithstanding this, immediately they had recovered themselves they
again attempted to get up, and another man had succeeded in raising half
his body above the hatchway.  Tim attacked him as he had done the first;
the man, however, who was a powerful fellow, grasped the capstan-bar,
and getting his knee on the combing was about to deal a blow at Tim
which would have felled him to the deck, when one of the English crew,
attracted by his cries, sprang to his assistance, and, wrenching the
weapon from the Frenchman's hands, struck him dead.  Two more only had
now to be disposed of; they, still in ignorance of the fate of their
companions, sprang up the hatchway, and before they had time to gain
their feet were thrown down and secured.  The man who had fallen below
was groaning heavily.

"He'll do no harm," observed Pat Casey.

"Arrah, don't be too shure of that," said Tim; "if he was to come to
life, he'd be after letting loose the others.  It will be wiser to lash
him too; and unless the dead man is kilt entirely, I'd advise that we
prevent him from doing mischief."

Pat felt the Frenchman's head.  "Shure, I never knew a man come to life
with a hole like this in his skull," he remarked, "but to make shure in
case of accidents, we'll heave him overboard;" and without more ado the
body of the Frenchman, who was undoubtedly dead, was shoved through the
foremost port.

Lieutenant Vinoy had not vainly boasted that he was a sound sleeper, for
notwithstanding the scuffle over his head, he did not awake; and happily
Norah, who had been stationed at his cabin door to keep him in check
should he attempt to break out, was not called upon to exercise her
courage.  The two events which have been described were, it will be
understood, taking place at the same time.  During those exciting
moments no one thought of what the ship was about; the consequence was
that she flew up into the wind, and it became necessary to box her off.
All hands were required for this purpose--the fore-yards had to be
braced round, the after-yards squared away.  Owen, from his wound, being
the least able to exert himself, went to the helm, the captain hauling
away with the rest of the crew.

"Gerald, do you go forward and keep a look-out on our prisoners," cried
the captain.  "If their arms by chance are not securely lashed, one or
more of them may be getting free and setting the others at liberty.
Call Tim Maloney to help you."

Gerald was about to obey this order, when the sound of loud knocking and
Norah's voice came from below, exclaiming, "The lieutenant is awake and
trying to break out of his cabin."  Gerald heard it, and shouting to Tim
to look after the Frenchmen forward, he sprang down the
companion-ladder.  He was not a moment too soon, for the French officer,
awaking and believing from the sounds which reached him that something
was the matter, had leaped out of bed with the intention of hastening on
deck, when he found the door fastened on him--then, hearing the captain
issuing orders, he guessed truly what had occurred.  Supposing that
there might yet be time to regain possession of the ship, he frantically
endeavoured to break open the door.  The only weapon he could discover
was the leg of a stool, which having wrenched off, he managed with it to
prise open the door.  The light from the state cabin fell on him as he
appeared at the opening; just at that moment Gerald sprang down from the
deck.  Catching sight of the lieutenant, he presented his pistol.

"Stay, monsieur," he exclaimed, "if you venture out of your cabin, I
shall be under the disagreeable necessity of shooting you."

The Frenchman hesitated, for, the light glancing on the pistol-barrel,
he recognised his own weapon, which he knew never missed fire, and
showed him also that he was totally unarmed.  Gerald saw his advantage.
"Let me advise you, monsieur, to go back and sit down quietly, and no
harm will happen to you," he continued.  "The ship is ours, and we
intend to keep her."

"Parbleu!" exclaimed the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders; "you have
indeed gained an advantage over me."

"Very true--but not an unfair one," said Gerald, laughing, but still
keeping his pistol pointed at the officer, who now caught sight of
Norah, also with a pistol in her hand, standing a little behind her
brother.  He might have made an attempt to spring upon Gerald and wrench
the weapon from his hand, but from the determined look of the young lady
he thought, in all probability, that she would fire over her brother's
head should he do so.  He therefore stepped back and sat down on the
only remaining stool in the cabin, folding his arms with an air of
resignation.

"I acknowledge myself defeated," he exclaimed; "but when I have a young
lady as an opponent my gallantry forbids me to resist."

"It all comes of being a sound sleeper, monsieur," said Gerald, "but if
you had kept your weather eye open it might not have happened.  However,
you may turn in again now and sleep as soundly as you like till we got
into Waterford harbour, where we shall be, I hope, if the wind holds
fair, in another day or two.  But don't agitate yourself we'll treat you
as politely as you treated us, except that we shall be compelled to keep
you a prisoner, in case you should try again to turn the tables on us."

The ship had now been brought round; the head-yards were squared, and
the course laid for Waterford.  Still there was a great deal to be done;
it was necessary to secure the prisoners, so that there might be no risk
of their rising.  Jacques Busson was a powerful and determined fellow,
and he would to a certainty, if he had the opportunity, get free and try
to set his countrymen at liberty.  The lieutenant also, though addicted
to sleeping soundly, was likely to be wide enough awake for the future,
and would in all probability try to regain possession of the ship.  He
was therefore requested to confine himself to his cabin.

"I am sorry to treat you so inhospitably," said Captain Tracy, "but
necessity compels me, and I hope that it will be but for a short time.
I must warn you, however, if you attempt to break out, that we shall be
obliged to secure you as we have done your men; but to save you from
temptation, we shall secure your cabin door on the outside in a way
which will prevent you from doing so.  If, however, you will give me
your promise not to attempt to regain your liberty, you will be treated
with no further rigour."

"I must make a virtue of necessity," answered the lieutenant; "it is a
very disagreeable one, but I submit."  And without more ado he threw off
his coat and quietly turned into his cot.

"Don't trust him, Gerald, whatever he may say," whispered Captain Tracy,
"till we have the door firmly secured."

"Ay, ay, father," answered Gerald; "if he shows his face at the door
without leave, I'll make him draw it back again pretty quickly."

Pompey had been left to watch over Jacques Busson and the man who had
been serving at the wheel.  He had no pistol, but instead he held in his
hand a sharp, long-bladed sheath-knife, which effectually kept the
prisoners from stirring.  He evidently took especial delight in his
office, and reluctantly consented to drag Jacques Busson into a cabin,
where it was arranged that he should be confined, but at the same time
with his arms and legs firmly secured.  The rest of the men were carried
down into the forecastle, and were placed in their bunks, the captain
having examined each of them to be certain that they were lashed in a
way from which they could not liberate themselves.

Morning dawned soon after these arrangements had been made.  Jacques
Busson grumbled greatly at the treatment he had received.

"What for you make all dis fuss?" said Pompey, who was standing sentry
over him.  "You want to take us into French port--we take you into Irish
port.  Waterford berry nice place, and when we get dere we take you out
of limbo, and you live like one gentleman."

"Sacre!" answered the Frenchman, who had only caught a word or two of
what Pompey had said, "if we fall in with a French ship before we get
there, I'll pay you off, mon garcon, for nearly strangling me with your
greasy arms."

Pompey only grinned a reply.  There was no use wasting words,
considering that neither understood the other's language.  The
lieutenant took matters more philosophically than his inferior.  He was,
however, not to be trusted, and either Gerald or Dan kept watch at his
door with a loaded pistol.  The arms and legs of the other men were too
securely lashed to afford much risk of their getting loose; still, a
trusty man was stationed over them, as there was no doubt that they
would make the attempt could they gain the opportunity, and if one could
cast off his lashings he might speedily set the others at liberty.

The sea was smooth; the sun shone brightly; and the _Ouzel Galley_ made
good way towards Waterford.  She was, however, upwards of a hundred
miles from that port, and might before reaching it fall in with another
French ship.  She was, indeed, now in a part of the ocean in which
privateers were likely to be cruising, on the look-out for
homeward-bound vessels.  It was necessary, therefore, to avoid any
strange sail till her character could be positively ascertained.  A hand
was accordingly stationed aloft to give timely notice should a sail
appear in sight.  This, of course, weakened the crew, who were already
insufficient to work the ship; the wounded men, though they had aided in
overpowering the Frenchmen, were but little capable of performing
continuous work.  Owen felt his wound very painful, yet he persisted in
attending to his duty, and could scarcely be persuaded to lie down on
the sofa for a short time to rest, while the captain took his watch on
deck.  Gerald was highly applauded by his father and Owen for his
courage and judgment, which had so much contributed to the recapture of
the vessel; even the French lieutenant expressed his admiration of the
way he had behaved.

"If young English boys are so brave and cool, no wonder that we should
have been overpowered," he observed.  "I only wish that we had had a
French boy on board, and it is not impossible that he might have
discovered your plot and counteracted it.  The next time I have charge
of a prize, I will place a French boy to watch the English boys, and
then we shall see which is the sharpest."

"I don't know which may prove the sharpest, but I am ready to fight any
two French boys of my own age I have ever met in my life," answered
Gerald, laughing; "first one come on, and then the other, or both
together, provided they'll keep in front, or let me have a wall at my
back, when they're welcome to do their worst."

"Ah, you are too boastful," said the lieutenant.

"Pardon me, monsieur, not at all.  I am only sticking up for the honour
of Old Ireland," answered Gerald.

The _Ouzel Galley_ was drawing nearer to her port, and the chances of
recapture diminished; still there was another night's run, and no one
liked to boast till they were out of the fire.  The crew of the _Ouzel
Galley_ were pretty well worn out, and it was with the greatest
difficulty many of them could keep their eyes open.  Perhaps the
Frenchmen counted on this, and the hope that they yet might regain their
liberty prevented them from losing their spirits, and they amused
themselves by singing snatches of songs and every now and then shouting
out to each other.  They were also well supplied with food, and as much
grog as they chose to drink.

"It's shure to comfort their hearts," observed Dan, as he went round
with a big can and a tin cup; "besides, they'll be less likely to prove
troublesome."

The night came on; the captain, Owen, and Gerald did their best to
encourage the men and to urge them to keep awake, however sleepy they
might feel, continually going among them and reminding them that in a
few hours more they might turn in and sleep for as many hours as they
might like at a stretch, without the fear of being knocked on the head
and thrown overboard.  "And, my lads," observed the captain, "if the
Frenchmen retake us, depend upon it that's the way we shall be treated--
they'll not give us another chance."

The only person who slept that night was Norah, who, although she had
not gone through any physical exertion, had felt more anxiety than any
one, from knowing the risk those whom she loved were about to run.  It
would be difficult to describe her feelings as she saw her father and
Owen steal upon dock to attack the man at the helm; and often during
that night she started up, believing that the scene was again being
enacted.

The wind continued fair; the _Ouzel Galley_ held on her course, and no
suspicious sail came near her during the night.



CHAPTER FOUR.

LAND IN SIGHT--A SUSPICIOUS SAIL--THE COQUILLE AGAIN--MANY A SLIP
BETWEEN THE CUP AND THE LIP--NORAH AND GERALD SENT OFF WITH OWEN--THE
WIND CHANGES--RECALLED--THE COQUILLE CHASES THE OUZEL GALLEY INTO THE
HARBOUR--SAFE AT LAST--CAPTAIN TRACY AND NORAH VISIT MR. AND MISS
FERRIS--CAPTAIN TRACY'S ILLNESS--THE HOUSE DESCRIBED--OWEN MASSEY AND
HIS MOTHER--VISIT OF NORAH AND ELLEN TO WIDOW MASSEY--THE WIDOW GIVES A
HISTORY OF THE O'HARRALLS.

"Land! land!" shouted Gerald, who had gone aloft at daybreak to be ready
the moment there was light enough to catch eight of the looked-for
shores of Ireland.  As the sun rose the coast could be distinguished,
indented with numerous deep inlets; but at first it was difficult to see
what part of it the ship was approaching.  At length, however, Gerald,
whose eyes were as sharp as those of any one on board, made out a tall
tower standing at the end of a long, low point of land.  "Hurrah!  I see
Hook Tower!" he shouted out; "we're all right!"

"Never made a better land-fall in my life," exclaimed the captain, who
had gone up the rigging, and had been examining the coast with his
glass.  As he spoke, Gerald shouted from the mast-head, "A sail on the
larboard bow!"

"What does she look like?" asked the captain, who had returned on deck.

"A ship close-hauled under all sail," answered Gerald; "she's standing
this way, and seems to have come out of Dungarvon Bay, as I can see
Helvick Head beyond her."

"Whatever she may prove, we shall be well in with Waterford harbour
before she can reach us," observed the captain.

"An enemy is not likely to have ventured so close in to the Irish coast,
with the risk of encountering a British man-of-war," said Owen.

"Not quite so certain of that," observed the captain; "she may have run
in hoping to pick up a few merchant craft and coasters without much
trouble, and may have ascertained from other prizes she has taken that
there are no men-of-war on the coast.  For my part, I would rather be
safe up the harbour than have to speak her."

The captain and Owen agreed that at all events it would be unnecessary
to keep Lieutenant Vinoy shut up in his cabin.  "As he has behaved like
a gentleman," said the captain, "go and tell him, Owen, that if he will
give his word of honour not to interfere with the other prisoners, I beg
that he will come on deck, should he feel so disposed; and that I regret
having been under the necessity of confining him to his cabin for so
many hours--but, Owen, keep an eye on him, notwithstanding; it may be as
well not to trust him too much, and if he were to release that desperate
fellow Busson, the two together might play us some trick we shouldn't
like."

"No fear of that, sir," answered Owen, glad to show the French
lieutenant an act of courtesy, "but I'll keep my eyes about me."

He immediately went below and gave Monsieur Vinoy the captain's message.

"Certainly," answered the lieutenant; "I willingly accept the
conditions.  I have nothing to complain of--it was the fortune of war;
you acted towards me as, under the same circumstances, I should have
behaved to you.  I will gladly come on deck."

Saying this, he preceded Owen up the companion-ladder, making a polite
bow to Norah, who had just before joined her father, and was looking out
eagerly towards the land.  In a short time the ship could be clearly
discerned from the deck.  The squareness of her yards and the cut of her
canvas made it evident that she was not a merchant vessel; but whether
an English or French man-of-war, or a privateer, it was difficult at
that distance to determine.  She was making good way with the tide,
which was then about half flood, running to the eastward; as this was
almost across the course of the _Ouzel Galley_, it was rather against
than in favour of the latter, whereas it added greatly to the rapid
progress of the stranger.  Under ordinary circumstances probably neither
the captain nor Owen could have had much doubt about the character of
the vessel in sight; but having so narrowly escaped the loss of the
ship, they both felt more than usually anxious.  Every stitch of canvas
the _Ouzel Galley_ could carry was set on her, the sails being wetted
that they might the better hold the wind.  The captain kept his glass
constantly turned towards the approaching ship.  When first seen, she
was about twelve miles off, while the _Ouzel Galley_ was supposed to be
about eight miles from the Hook Tower.  At the rate she was going it
would take her upwards of an hour to get off it; whereas, should the
wind hold, the stranger, with the advantage of the tide, would get her
within range of her guns before that time.  No flag had as yet been seen
flying from her peak; but even should she show British colours it would
be no proof that she was not an enemy, as she would be certain to hoist
them for the sake of deceiving any merchant vessels she might meet with.

"I very much fear that she is a privateer," observed Owen, after
carefully examining the stranger through his glass; "still the wind may
fall light and prevent her reaching us--or, better still, shift to the
eastward and throw her to leeward, and we may then soon run up the
harbour, and got under shelter of Duncannon Fort before she can reach
us."

Lieutenant Vinoy had been eagerly gazing at the stranger--a look of
perplexity appeared in his face.

"What do you think of yonder ship?" asked Owen.

"I will not disguise my belief from you that she is the _Coquille_,"
answered the lieutenant.  "I know her too well to be mistaken, even at
this distance; but remain tranquil--should she recapture your vessel, of
which I entertain, I confess, very little doubt, Captain Thurot will
treat you with the same courtesy he did before, notwithstanding what has
occurred.  I am the person he will chiefly blame; and I must beg you to
inform him how long I had been on watch and how fatigued I was when I
retired to my cabin.  Morbleu! to tell you the truth, I am as anxious as
you can be to keep out of his way, but don't tell him that I said so."

"You may rest assured that we will do our best to avoid an encounter,"
answered the captain, "and, should we be recaptured, that we will say
all that we can in your favour; but I trust that we shall escape--it
would be cruel to be caught after all."

The wind was becoming lighter and lighter, and thus their anxiety was
prolonged.  Still the _Coquille_--for that such she was very little
doubt existed--kept creeping up.  The sea became much calmer.

"I will send a boat away with Norah and Gerald; it were better to save
her from the annoyance to which she would be exposed should we again
fall into the Frenchmen's hands," said Captain Tracy.  "I should wish to
let you go too, Owen; suffering from your wound, you are but ill able to
stand the confinement of a French prison."

"I am grateful to you, captain; and thankfully would I escort your
daughter, but she will be safe with her brother, and I cannot bring
myself to desert the ship," answered Owen.

"That is like you, Owen," replied the captain; "perhaps I might have
said the same were I in your place.  It is my principle that every
officer should stick to his ship as long as a plank holds together; but
we shall have hands enough to take her in, should yonder stranger prove
not to be the _Coquille_, but a friend--or should we be recaptured, the
fewer people there are on board, the fewer will there be to suffer.  I
have therefore made up my mind that you shall go.  I will send Dan
Connor or Pompey, and Tim and Gerald can pull an oar and you can steer;
you'll not have more than ten or twelve miles to row before you can get
fresh hands, either at Duncannon Fort or at Passage, to take you up to
Waterford.  See, we are scarcely making three knots an hour; the boat
can pull nearly twice as fast as that, and you will be able to keep well
ahead of the enemy.  Come, I wanted to see what you would say, but I
have resolved you should go; so order the boat to be got ready, and the
sooner you are off the better."

Owen was, of course, willing enough to go for the sake of Norah; he had
no choice but to obey his commander.

"Norah," said the captain, turning to his daughter, to whom the French
officer was endeavouring to make himself agreeable, and who had not
heard the conversation between her father and the mate, "go and get your
traps together, my girl; I am going to send you and Gerald with the mate
on shore, and I hope that we shall be soon after you."

Norah was too well accustomed to obey her father to question the
command, and immediately went below.

"Gerald!" shouted the captain to his son, who had some time before come
down from the mast-head, "go and help your sister; you must be smart
about it--the boat will be in the water in less than five minutes."

In a short time Dan and Tim, who had been sent into the cabin, appeared
with Norah's trunks.  She quickly followed.  Having learned from Gerald
the reason of her being sent on shore, she addressed her father.  "Oh,
father, I must not, I ought not to leave you," she exclaimed; "you think
that the _Ouzel Galley_ will after all be recaptured, and you will be
carried off to France, and perhaps ill-treated by those men from whom
you have retaken the ship, while I shall be left."

"Far better that it should be so than that we should both be made
prisoners and ill-treated," replied the captain; "so be, as you always
have been, an obedient girl--and now, my child, may Heaven bless and
protect you!" and the captain, giving his daughter an affectionate kiss,
led her to the gangway.  The boat was already alongside, and Owen in her
ready to help Norah down.  She was soon seated in the boat; Gerald
followed her.  Just then the captain took another glance at the
stranger, which was about three miles off; as he did so, the French flag
was seen to fly out at her peak.  At the same moment the sails of the
_Ouzel Galley_ gave a loud flap; the captain looked round.

"Praise Heaven! here comes the breeze from the eastward," he exclaimed.
"Hold fast with the boat; come on deck again, Norah--we'll not part with
you yet;" and, leaning down, he took her arm as she quickly climbed up
the side.  The rest of the party followed; and to save time the boat was
dropped astern.  All hands were busily engaged in bracing up the yards.
The _Ouzel Galley_ was now well to windward; the French ship tacked, but
was still able to steer a course which would bring her within gunshot.
The two vessels stood on; the _Ouzel Galley_ was rapidly approaching the
land, while the _Coquille_ was getting further from it.  Another tack
would, however, place her astern, and it would then be a question
whether she could overtake the _Ouzel Galley_ before the latter could
run up the harbour.  Much would depend upon the way the wind blew when
she got inside; it might come down the harbour, and in that case the
Frenchman might overtake her before she could get up to Credda Head,
within which it was not likely even Thurot himself would venture.  The
breeze held firm; the captain looked over the side.

"The good ship seems to know her danger, and is slipping along
famously," he observed to Owen.  "We shall be up to Waterford Quay
before nightfall, I hope; we have still a good part of the flood, and
when Captain Thurot finds that there is no chance of taking us, he'll
give up the chase."

"He'll not do so till the last moment, captain," observed Lieutenant
Vinoy.  "There is no man like him; and should the wind fail us when we
are inside the harbour, he will, or I am much mistaken, send in the
boats to cut your vessel out."

"We'll hope, then, that the wind will not fail us," answered the
captain--and he much doubted whether the Frenchman would venture on so
bold an act.  "If your friends come, we'll give them a warm reception,
and we shall be under the necessity of shutting you up in your cabin
again."

"I shall be ready to submit to your orders," said the lieutenant,
shrugging his shoulders.

Poor Norah naturally felt very anxious, even though Owen endeavoured to
reassure her by pointing out the position of the French ship, which
could not tack with advantage till a considerable way astern.  The
breeze was every moment freshening, and the tall lighthouse on the east
side of Waterford harbour became more and more distinct.

"No fear now," cried Gerald at length, as the very beach on it stood,
with the water rippling on it, could be clearly discerned, and the
harbour up to Duncannon Fort opened out to view.  The _Ouzel Galley_ was
just abreast of Hook Tower when the French ship was seen to tack and
boldly to stand after her.

"That looks as if the lieutenant were right in his notion; and should we
get becalmed inside, or find the wind drawing down the harbour, Thurot
will send in his boats after us," observed Owen to the captain.

"I have no fear of being becalmed till we get inside of Credda Head, and
still less of the wind, as it is outside, drawing down the harbour,"
answered the captain.  "Should the boats get up with us, we must try and
beat them off; we were not afraid of the ship herself, and those
Frenchmen, though brave enough, are not like our own fellows in
cutting-out affairs.  See to the guns, however, and get ammunition up on
deck, for, should they come, we mayn't have much time to spare."

The _Ouzel Galley_ stood on in mid-channel; the well-known landmarks,
church steeples, country-seats, and castles on either side were
recognised; Credda Head, a long, high point at the entrance of the
harbour, was neared, when Duncannon Fort came into view.  Still the
daring privateer followed as if her bold captain did not yet despair of
overtaking the chase.  The wind, as the captain had hoped it would do,
held fair, blowing over the low land on the east side of the harbour;
once up with Duncannon Fort the _Ouzel Galley_ would be safe, both from
the privateer herself and from an attack by her boats.  At length Credda
Head was rounded.

"Hurrah!" cried Gerald, who, not having to attend to the navigation of
the ship, was watching the privateer, "she's afraid of standing on
further--she's about; but, hillo!--she has hoisted English colours."

"No proof that she is not French, though," answered the captain; "it is
simply to deceive the people on shore."

"At all events, she's standing out of the harbour again, and won't do us
any mischief," cried Gerald.

"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed the captain, "we're safe at last."  And the
long breath he drew clearly showed how anxious he had been.

"A boat coming off from under the Head!" sang out Dan from forward.  The
topsail sheets were let fly, the courses trailed up to allow the boat to
come alongside, and a river pilot stopped on deck.

"Welcome back to Old Ireland!" he exclaimed, as he shook the captain's
hand.  "Shure, it's a pleasure to see the _Ouzel Galley_ again, for it's
long we've been looking for her, and many began to say that she was
lost, or taken by the French."

"We very nearly were so, but we managed to take some of these same
gentlemen instead," answered the captain with a laugh, to which he could
now give vent; "and only just now we had a narrow squeak for it.  What
do you think of yonder ship, Pat?"

"Of course, she's an English man-of-war," answered the pilot; "we've
been expecting one in here for some days past, and we thought that craft
was her.  To say the truth, we were going on board her; for, shure, the
_Ouzel Galley_ knows her way up to George's Quay by herself."

"Had you done so, Pat, you'd have been carried off, and made to serve as
pilot on board a French ship till the end of the war," answered Captain
Tracy.

"Maybe you're right, captain; but see, she carries the English flag, and
no Frenchman would have the impudence to come into our harbour," said
the pilot.

"That gentleman says she is French, and he ought to know, for he
belonged to her," observed the captain, pointing to Lieutenant Vinoy.
Pat Monaghan, however, was not convinced; though, as the stranger was
rapidly running out of the harbour again, he had no opportunity of
ascertaining for himself.  Under Pat's pilotage the _Ouzel Galley_ stood
on up the harbour, which now narrowed considerably.  At length she
rounded Cheek Point, when with a fair wind she ran up the Suir, on the
south bank of which Waterford is situated.  It was late in the evening
when at last she dropped her anchor off George's Quay.  Before her
canvas was furled, Mr Ferris, the senior partner of her owners, Ferris,
Twigg, and Cash, came on board, and warmly congratulated the captain on
his safe return.  On hearing of the gallant way in which possession of
the _Ouzel Galley_ had been regained, Mr Ferris invited Norah and
Gerald to his house.

"My daughter Ellen will be delighted to see her old schoolfellow, Miss
Tracy, who was a great favourite of hers," he said; "and many of my
friends will be glad to see your son, who from your account was the
principal actor in your adventure."

"I must not praise Gerald too much," said Captain Tracy, after he had
accepted the invitation; "my mate, Owen Massey, was the chief concoctor
of the plot, and had I not a high opinion of his judgment and courage, I
should not have ventured to give my consent to it."

Before leaving the ship, Captain Tracy was anxious to be relieved of his
prisoners.  Mr Ferris hurried back to the chief magistrate of the town,
who at once sent down a guard to march them off to the jail.  The
lieutenant, however, on being brought before him, was more courteously
treated, and on giving his parole not to leave the town or to
communicate with the enemy, he was allowed to be at large.  As soon as
he was set at liberty he received an invitation from Mr Ferris to take
up his abode at his house in King Street.

Thankful indeed was Owen Massey when, the prisoners having been carried
off, he was able to give up charge of the ship and go on shore.  He had
a home to go to, though an humble one, with his mother, who resided in a
pretty little cottage in the outskirts of the town.  She had seen better
days, for both she and her husband were of ancient lineage; but he had
been engaged in a long-protracted lawsuit, which he ultimately lost, and
died, leaving her very limited means with which to support herself and
their only child Owen.  Captain Tracy, an old friend, offered to take
Owen to sea; and the lad was delighted with the thoughts of the life in
prospect.  His mother had not only given him the best education the
place afforded, but had sent him to Trinity College, Dublin, to complete
his education.  Here his means, however, did not allow him to remain
long; but, being clever and diligent, he was better prepared than most
lads were at that time for his future calling.  He knew nothing about
the Royal Navy, or he would certainly have desired to enter it, which he
might easily have done had he possessed any friend able to get him
placed on the deck of a man-of-war.  He had, like other youths, read
accounts of the voyages of the old explorers, of the adventures of the
buccaneers, and other works; he was scarcely aware of the difference
which then existed between the officers of the Royal Navy and merchant
service.  Captain Tracy, though anxious to promote his interests, did
not think fit to enlighten him, as he fully believed that during the
"piping times of peace" he would be far more likely to succeed in the
latter than in the former service; and belonging to it himself, he
rightly looked upon it as an honourable one.

Mrs Massey was struck by her son's pale face and languid manner.  The
voyage over, the effects of his severe wound, and the long-continued
anxiety he had suffered, at once told on him.  She immediately sent for
the best surgeon in the place.  Dr Roach quickly arrived; he had a
great respect for Widow Massey, and had known Owen, from his boyhood.
On examining his wound he put on a grave face.

"It surprises me, my dear boy, that you could have managed to move about
with so fearful a laceration," he said; "it has been well and carefully
dressed, I will allow, or you would not have been alive at this moment.
Many a poor fellow has died from a less hurt than this.  However, you
will do well now, if you follow my directions; but you must lie by and
get your mother to nurse you.  Come, turn into bed at once; you are not
fit to be about--you'll get well the sooner."

Owen expostulated; he had been on his legs for several days, and why
should he now lie by? he asked.

"For the very reason that you have done more than you have strength
for," answered the doctor.

"But the duty of the ship must be attended to, and I am anxious to see
my captain," urged Owen.

"And your captain's daughter, eh, my young friend--is it not so?" said
Dr Roach.  "Well, I will let her know your wishes; I have been called
in to attend on Captain Tracy, who requires some doctoring, though not
as much as you do--and as to the ship, there are others whose duty it is
to look after her; it was yours to bring her safely into port, and you
did that in a very gallant way, I hear.  Now, Mrs Massey, I lay my
commands on your son to remain quietly in bed till I tell him to get up;
if he disobeys me, we shall be having a stiff arm or something worse, so
he is warned.  I will come and see him regularly, and you'll give him
the medicines as I direct;" and Dr Roach, kindly shaking the widow's
hand, walked away towards the town, with his gold-headed cane pressed to
his lips--a sure sign that he was lost in thought.

Captain Tracy was, as the doctor had said, really ill; he was even worse
than it was at first supposed, and required all Norah's attention.
Though much wishing to see Owen and Mrs Massey, she could not venture
to leave him.  Gerald, however, willingly undertook to pay a visit to
the mate, who not being positively prohibited from seeing visitors,
Gerald was admitted.  Owen more clearly understood the message which
Norah had sent than Gerald did himself.  Though longing to see her, he
acknowledged that it was her duty to remain with her father.

"However, Owen, you need not be in a hurry to get well," said Gerald,
"for the _Ouzel Galley_ won't be fit for sea again for many months; she
suffered so much during her last voyage, and got so knocked about by the
enemy's shot, that she is to undergo a thorough repair.  My father, not
wishing me to be idle, talks of sending me to sea in some other craft--
if I have my choice, I would go on board a man-of-war, where I might
have plenty of opportunities of fighting the enemies of our country.  I
don't like the idea of sailing in a ship which may be attacked and
captured by any French privateer we might fall in with."

"I am sorry to hear you say that, Gerald, for I had hoped to have you
with me when I next go afloat;" answered Owen.  "To my mind, the
merchant service is as honourable as that of the Royal Navy, if a man
does his duty.  I am very sure that God did not design men to be
fighting animals; it was Satan, and no one else, who put it into their
heads that it is a fine and noble thing to attack and kill each other."

"Why, Owen, I always thought you a brave fellow, and as fond of fighting
as any man," exclaimed Gerald.

"I grant you that I am ready to fight in defence of the life and liberty
of my shipmates and the property committed to my charge, because I can
see that to be my duty," answered Owen.  "The merchant service affords
ample opportunity for the exercise of a man's courage and determination.
Though I respect the officers and men of the Royal Navy, who are
engaged in fighting for their king and country, I have a very different
opinion of privateersmen, who go forth to plunder the harmless
merchantmen of other nations merely for the sake of enriching
themselves.  It may be necessary to destroy the commerce of the enemy
for the purpose of crippling their means of offence; but privateersmen
seldom trouble their heads about that--they are incited by the instinct
of pirates, and plunder is their sole object.  Whatever you do, let me
urge you, Gerald, never to turn privateersman; if you were to consult
your father, he would, I know, say as I do, for we have often spoken
about the matter."

"I dare say you are right, Owen," answered Gerald.  "If the _Ouzel
Galley_ were going at once to sea I would gladly sail in her.  The
owners, as I heard from my father, intend to give the command of her to
you."

"I am thankful to him, and very happy to hear it," said Owen; "and I
hope, Gerald, that if you go afloat in the mean time, which it is very
right you should do, that you will be back soon enough to join me.  Tell
your father that I will try to get well as fast as I can, that I may
attend to fitting out the _Ouzel Galley_."

Gerald did not give a very favourable report of Owen Massey; he
described him as looking pale and ill, and dreadfully out of spirits,
quite unlike himself.  It made poor Norah exceedingly anxious; she had
bestowed on him her heart's best affections, with the full sanction of
her father, who highly esteemed him.

To give Gerald employment till arrangements could be made for his going
to sea, he was sent on board the _Ouzel Galley_, to assist in landing
her stores and unrigging her, previous to her being hauled up on the
slip to be repaired.

A few days on shore had so far restored Captain Tracy's health that
Norah was able to pay her promised visit to Mrs Massey, and Ellen
Ferris offered to accompany her.  They set off together.  Ellen was
nearly a year older than Norah; both were remarkable for their beauty.
Ellen was somewhat taller and slighter than her friend, with dark brown
hair and clear complexion, and fine, sparkling eyes; many persons would
have admired her the most.  Having mixed in good society in Dublin, she
had more the manners of the world than Norah, though in reality equally
artless and unsophisticated; while she was able to take her part in
conversation on any of the topics of the day, of which, naturally, Norah
knew but little.  She was amiable, lively, and right-principled, and
altogether allowed to be a very charming girl, the pride of her father,
who had no other child.  She was therefore, of course, looked upon as an
heiress; she did not, however, give herself any airs, but was thoroughly
unaffected, her aim simply being properly to do the honours of her
father's house.  Their chief residence was in Dublin, but she was always
his companion when he came to his house at Waterford.  It was a pleasant
place, a _rus in urbe_, as the worthy merchant delighted to call it.
The house itself, a large, well-built mansion, with nothing remarkable
about it, faced the street.  On the other side was an extensive piece of
ground.  Immediately behind the house it was level, and laid out with a
lawn and flower-beds.  Beyond this a hill rose to a considerable height,
the hillside being cut into slopes and terrace-walks, with an artificial
canal fed by an ever-flowing stream at the bottom of it.  In accordance
with the taste of the day, these terraces were ornamented with statues;
and at one end was a fine arch, part of the ruin of an ancient Gothic
chapel.  At the other end was an aviary filled with numerous feathered
songsters, several species of gay plumage.  Further round the hill was
an enclosure stocked with various kinds of deer, and a white doe, an
especial favourite of the fair mistress of the garden.  Besides the
canal, at the foot of the hill were two large reservoirs for the purpose
of supplying it with water, containing carp and tench and other fish;
and at the summit of the hill stood an obelisk to the memory of King
William, whom the owner held in especial reverence.  The views from the
hill of the city on one side, and of the rough rocks and wild
uncultivated hills on the opposite side, of the river, the shipping at
anchor, with vessels and boats decked with gay flags constantly moving
up and down the stream, were picturesque and attractive, and afforded an
object of interest to the numerous guests whom the hospitable owner was
wont to entertain at his house.  The place was laid out more according
to Dutch than English taste, and of course was especially admired by the
natives of Holland, among whom the firm of Ferris, Twigg, and Cash had
extensive connections, as well as with the West Indies, to which part of
the world they chiefly traded.  The _Ouzel Galley_ was only one of the
numerous vessels owned by the firm, and all being strongly built, well
found, and well officered, with sufficient crews, they made successful
voyages.  Mr Ferris himself was a dignified, good-looking, and somewhat
portly gentleman, frank and hearty in his manners, fond of a good joke
and a good story, and highly respected for his upright and liberal
conduct.

Ellen, of course, had many admirers, but as yet it was generally
believed that she had favoured no one.  She was, in truth, the light of
her father's home, and he had no wish to part with her.  She and Norah
set off one bright afternoon on their walk to Widow Massey's cottage.
Norah had confided to Ellen her engagement to Owen.

"I am young, and so is he, and we are to wait till he has made two or
three more voyages, while I am to keep house for my father, who does not
intend again to go to sea," she remarked.  "He inherited some property
lately, which prevents the necessity of his doing so, and though I
enjoyed the voyage to the West Indies, and the beautiful scenery and
strange sights I saw there, I am very glad to have him remain at home,
especially since the war has broken out, and there is now the risk of
capture by an enemy, such as we so narrowly escaped from.  I wish,
indeed, that Owen could give up the sea, but he is very fond of it, and
promises me not to run into more danger than can be helped; and as it is
the lot of so many poor women to have those they love at sea, I must not
complain."

Ellen, sighed.  Norah looked up with an inquiring glance at her
countenance, but Ellen only observed, "It must be borne with patience;
and then, you know, you can pray for those you love, and that is a great
comfort."

Mrs Massey, who had from her front windows seen her visitors
approaching, opened the door to admit them.  She welcomed Norah with an
affectionate embrace, putting back her hair to kiss her fair brow.

"I beg your pardon, Miss Ferris," she said, "for neglecting you; but you
will excuse me--it is so long since I have seen this dear girl, and I so
rejoice to have her back in safety.  My son Owen, the doctor says, owes
his life to the careful way she dressed his wounds."  She continued,
after her guests were seated, "He will be wishing to come down and see
you, Norah, and I cannot forbid him, though he is not fit to present
himself before Miss Ferris."

"Do not let me prevent Mr Massey from coming down," said Ellen, rising,
and giving a smile to Norah; "I will go out and take a look at your
pretty garden, Mrs Massey, and you shall show me the flowers."

Norah felt grateful for the tact of her friend, and the widow having
gone upstairs to tell Owen that he need not fear the meeting with a
stranger, she returned and took Ellen into her garden, which contained a
shrubbery, a lawn and flower-beds, and an arbour with a view of the
river and shipping in the distance, and invited them to sit down.

"This is a very pretty spot, Mrs Massey," said Ellen.  "Now you have
got your son back, you must be perfectly happy."

"I ought to be so, my dear young lady, and am indeed thankful to have
him with me," answered the widow; "but recollections of the past will
intrude.  I cannot help thinking how different would have been his lot
had he not been unjustly deprived of his inheritance; and little good
has it done those who got it.  Wealth gained by fraud or violence never
benefits the possessors."

The widow, who spent much of her time in solitude, was inclined to talk
when she found a willing listener.  Ellen's looks betokened sympathy,
for she was aware of the wrongs the Massey family had endured.

"The O'Harralls were ever a lawless race," continued Mrs Massey; "they
were leaders among the Rapparees in Cromwell's and James's times, and
lived by robbing their countrymen and neighbours, till William of Orange
established a firm government.  They then exercised their cunning by
means of the law, and, supported by the Evil One, their frauds were
successful.  Scarcely, however, had they gained possession of Tramore
Castle and its broad lands than they took to their wicked courses.
Denis O'Harrall set all the laws of God and man at defiance; yet, as he
kept open house and entertained guests of high and low degree, he was
universally popular till he had been brought to the verge of ruin.  Such
a father could not fail to bring up his sons ill: his eldest son was as
extravagant and reckless as himself.  Brian, his second, had more talent
than his brother.  Having been sent to college in Dublin, he at first
gave some promise of turning out well.  Owen was at that time acquainted
with him, and, harbouring no ill-feeling, was ready to be on friendly
terms; but Brian soon showed the cloven foot, and although he remained
for some time, he was at length dismissed with ignominy.  Living near
the sea, he had been accustomed from his earliest days to go out with
the fishermen, and to make short trips to Drogheda, Dungarvon, Youghal,
and occasionally even further.  After his return home, having no means
of indulging in the bad courses to which he was addicted, he, it was
said, joined a band of smugglers, who under his leadership became the
most daring and successful of all the gangs of desperate men who carry
on their illicit trade across the English Channel.  Now they appeared in
one part of the coast, now in another; so that, although a constant
watch was kept for them, owing to the vigilance of their agents for
several years, they never failed to escape the king's cruisers.  From
long impunity becoming less cautious, a valuable cargo in which he had
ventured all his property was captured, with himself and several of his
companions, by a king's ship.  They were brought into Waterford, and
were imprisoned in Reginald's Tower, on the quay.  During the night,
however, they rose on the guard, whom they killed, to prevent alarm
being given, and stealing a boat made their way down the river.  In the
harbour they found a Dutch ship, the _Saint Peter_, of Hamburg, which
had put in from stress of weather.  As she was on the point of sailing,
they pretended that they had come down on purpose to take a passage on
board her to Dantzic, for which port she was bound.  The captain,
believing their story, willingly received them, as they offered to pay a
considerable sum for their passage-money.  Scarcely, however, had they
got out of sight of land than they set upon the captain and his officers
and killed them all, and so overawed the men that no one dared to offer
the slightest resistance.  By threats and promises they induced the
greater number to join them, and those who would not do so were thrown
overboard.  One, however, a good swimmer, recovering from the blows
which had apparently killed him, got hold of a grating and was picked up
the next morning.  Being carried into Cork harbour, he gave information
of what had occurred, and the authorities in all places along the coast
were informed that they might seize the pirates should they appear.
Their intention was to proceed up the British Channel, to plunder any
vessel they could fall in with, and afterwards, when they had completed
their cargo, to sell it and the ship.  A violent north-easterly gale,
however, drove them far away to the westward, and it was not till many
days were over that they were again able to stand to the eastward.  They
had, as it happened, from not taking proper observations, got out of
their reckoning; while steering, as they thought, up the Channel, they
found themselves close in with the Irish coast.  By this time being
short of water and provisions, they ran into Dunmanus Bay, supposing
that, no one suspecting their character, they might remain as long as
was necessary to repair damages and to procure whatever they wanted.
Among the crew was a young black, whose life had been spared under the
idea that he was too stupid and ignorant to think of betraying them.  As
he appeared to be perfectly contented on board, he was allowed to be at
liberty; but he was in reality a remarkably sharp lad, and only waited
his opportunity to get on shore.  One night, after the ship had been
there two or three days, he managed to slip overboard, and, getting
safely to land, made his way to Dunbeacon Castle, at the head of the
harbour.  He here described what had occurred, and it was at once
guessed that the vessel in the bay was the one for which the authorities
had been directed to be on the watch.  A despatch was immediately sent
off to Bantry; before the morning a party of soldiers arrived, and,
procuring boats, boarded the ship and captured all found in her.  The
ringleader, however, Brian O'Harrall, was on shore, and though strict
search was made for him he was nowhere to be discovered.  He had friends
in the neighbourhood, and it was only sufficient for them to know that
the officers of justice were after him to induce them to assist in his
escape.  My son happened to be in Bantry at the time, just before he
went to sea; to save the boy, who was carried there, from the vengeance
of O'Harrall, he took him back to Waterford, and Captain Tracy received
him on board the _Ouzel Galley_.  It was from Pompey I heard all the
particulars I have narrated.  The five other men on board the _Saint
Peter_ were tried and condemned to death, and after their execution
their heads were set up at Waterford, Youghal, Cork, Kinsale, and
Blantyre.  The ship and cargo being restored to the owners, O'Harrall
was outlawed, and a price set on his head; but though, from time to
time, he was heard of in connection with various desperate acts, he
never failed to escape the grasp of justice.  It was supposed that he at
length joined a band of smugglers, though he has not for a year or more
been heard of.  He has, I should have said, a younger brother remarkably
like him in character and appearance, who greatly assisted in his
escape.  This brother, Michael, made his appearance now in one part of
the country, now in another, letting it be supposed that he was Brian;
thus distracting the attention of those in search of the culprit.  He is
himself, from what I have heard, fully as determined a ruffian as Brian,
and has long followed the same lawless pursuits."

"What a fearful character!" exclaimed Ellen, shuddering; "and yet you
say that Brian was at one time at college, mixing with young men of
education and refinement."

"Yes, and, with the talents and advantages he possessed, might have
gained an honourable position in the county," replied Mrs Massey; "for,
his elder brother having no children, he would probably have succeeded
to the estate.  I should have been more reconciled to the loss of
Tramore had it been in possession of honourable people, who would have
attended to the property and watched over the interests of the tenantry;
and it is sad to see the place going to ruin, and the unfortunate people
who might look up to the owner for assistance becoming every day more
degraded and wretched."

"But perhaps, Mrs Massey, if the present owner should die, and as the
wretched men you have been describing cannot succeed, you, or rather
your son, may recover the property," observed Ellen.

"I fear not," answered the widow, with a sigh.  "I do not understand
legal matters, but the youngest brother might, I fancy, succeed in spite
of his crimes, and without ample pecuniary means I believe that it would
be impossible to regain the estate.  I have long been reconciled to my
lot, though I should be thankful could Owen avoid the necessity of going
to sea, and enjoy a sufficient fortune to enable him to marry our dear
Norah in the course of a year or two."

"Now you have told me the particulars of this strange history, I shall
not despair of success," said Ellen.  "The want of money must, at all
events, not be a hindrance; there are, I am sure, those who would be
ready to assist your son."

Ellen sat on, readily listening to all the widow's conversation; for,
heartily sympathising with Norah, she was in no hurry to break in upon
her and Owen's _tete-a-tete_.  However, the length of the shadows
stretching across the lawn at last warned her that the evening was
approaching, and she remembered that it would be disagreeable, if not
dangerous, to be compelled to walk home in the dark.  Norah, however,
had not noted how time had gone by; but when she looked out of the
window and saw that the sun was on the point of setting, she expressed
her readiness to return home without delay.  Ellen, wishing Mr Massey
good-bye, and hoping that he would soon recover, hurried to the door,
leaving Norah, who was putting on her cloak and hat, to follow and pay
her parting adieux in the way she might think proper.  Had Owen not been
absolutely forbidden, in spite of his weakness he would have accompanied
them--though Ellen laughed at the idea of there being any cause for
apprehending danger during the short walk into the town.



CHAPTER FIVE.

ARRIVAL OF A JERSEY PRIVATEER--AN INVITATION SENT TO THE OFFICERS--NORAH
AND ELLEN MEET A STRANGER ON THEIR WALK HOME--ATTEMPT TO CARRY OFF
NORAH--SHE IS RESCUED--FRUITLESS SEARCH FOR THE RUFFIANS--ARRIVAL OF THE
CAPTAIN AND LIEUTENANTS OF THE PRIVATEER--THE MERCHANT'S HOUSE AND
GROUNDS--A BANQUET--CAPTAIN DUPIN REQUESTS THE PLEASURE OF A VISIT FROM
HIS WATERFORD FRIENDS--A DANCE ON BOARD THE PRIVATEER--AN UNPLEASANT
SURPRISE.

Just after the young ladies had set off on their walk to visit Mrs
Massey, a Dungarvon hooker arrived at the quay, and her skipper brought
the intelligence that a sloop of war had anchored that morning in the
mouth of the harbour.  She carried eighteen guns, for he had counted
nine on a side; having boarded her to dispose of some of his fish, he
was sure that he could not be mistaken.  When he was more than half-way
up the river, he added, the wind being light, a gig had passed him; but
though he looked everywhere, he had not again seen her.  He believed
that she belonged to the sloop, as an officer was seated in the stern,
and she had the appearance of a man-of-war's boat; but of that he could
not be certain.

Mr Ferris had invited a party to dinner, and as he always wished to pay
attention to naval officers, he immediately despatched a letter by a
fast rowing-boat, requesting the company of the commander and officers
of the sloop at the intended banquet.  Mr Ferris received a letter in
reply, signed "Jean Dupin, commander of the _Orestes_, private ship of
war," observing that Mr Ferris had been misinformed as to the character
of the vessel he had the honour to command, she not being a king's ship,
but belonging to Jersey, and the property of a firm with which he was
probably well acquainted, Messrs. Saint Croix and Cie; and he was
unwilling to sail under false colours--but that if Mr Ferris still
desired his company, he and his officers would have infinite pleasure in
availing themselves of his hospitable invitation.  Mr Ferris
immediately sent back the boat, assuring Captain Dupin that it would
afford him the greatest possible satisfaction to receive him, and any of
his lieutenants and junior officers who might be able to accompany him.

"Ellen will be disappointed when she finds that the ship is not a
man-of-war," he said to himself.  "She takes much interest in the navy;
she saw a good specimen of the naval officer in that gentlemanly and
pleasing young lieutenant, Norman Foley, who was occasionally at our
house in Dublin when his ship lay off Kingstown, and she has
consequently an idea that all naval officers are like him.  However,
many of the Jersey privateers are commanded and officered by gentlemen
of good family in the island, and I doubt not that Captain Dupin will
prove an agreeable addition to our party.  I wish that Captain Tracy
were well enough to be present; he and Captain Dupin might find that
they were old acquaintances, and would, at all events, have many
subjects in common to talk about."

We must now return to Norah and Ellen.  They hastened their steps, for
the sun had set, and darkness was stealing over the landscape, and
unless they hurried on they would scarcely have light sufficient to see
their way through the narrow and dimly illuminated street, and might
perhaps meet with drunken men who would cause them annoyance.

"I am pretty well known here, so that it is not likely any one will
insult us; but it would be unpleasant to encounter strangers," said
Ellen.  "I am very sorry, Norah, for it was my fault remaining so long
listening to Mrs Massey's dreadful accounts of the O'Harrall family.  I
was much interested, and I have taken it into my head that Mr Massey
may be able to regain his ancestral property.  You know I am somewhat
romantic, and I should be so delighted to see you mistress of Tramore
Castle."

"I am afraid there is very little hope of that," said Norah; "nor am I
ambitious, but shall be content to enjoy with my dear Owen the limited
fortune we shall be able to muster."

They had just reached the most secluded part of the road, when they
heard footsteps behind them; and Norah, looking round, saw a man
following, his figure shrouded in a Spanish cloak, a broad-brimmed hat
ornamented with a feather drawn down over his brow, partly concealing
his countenance.  The end of a scabbard which appeared beneath his cloak
showed that he was a gentleman, while his firm though hurried step gave
proof of what was of still more consequence, that he was perfectly
sober.  As he passed them he lifted his hat, an act which served rather
to conceal further than to show his features.  After going on a short
distance he stopped; then, facing about, walked rapidly towards them.

"Miss Tracy," he exclaimed, "I have been impelled by an irresistible
power to endeavour to see you, and I am more fortunate than I expected.
Will your fair friend favour me by going on a few paces before us, while
I speak what I wish to reach no other ear but yours?"

"Who is this gentleman?" exclaimed Ellen.  "Is it your wish that I
should do as he requests?"

"Oh no, no! do not leave me on any account," whispered Norah, tightly
grasping Ellen's arm.  "Surely you must be under a mistake, sir, and
take me for some one else," she continued, turning to the stranger.

"Miss Tracy, your features, your voice, your figure, are all too
indelibly impressed upon my mind," he replied.  "Do not you remember the
last words I spoke to you ere we parted?"

Norah, on hearing this, was still more convinced than at first that the
stranger was under a mistake.  And yet the stranger had addressed her by
name!  Could he be out of his senses?

"Know you not that you have inspired the deepest and most devoted
affection, which death alone can destroy?" he continued.  "To meet you
again I have gone through difficulties and dangers which would otherwise
have appeared insuperable; and can you be so cold-hearted as to regard
with indifference a love so ardent and true?"

His voice as he spoke had more of a tone of anger than affection in it.

"I must not listen to such language as this," answered Norah, the idea
of who the person was now flashing across her mind; "I beg that you will
not stop my friend and me, as we are anxious to return home without
delay."

"I must and will be heard," exclaimed the stranger, attempting to grasp
Norah's hand.  "Come with me; I offer you a heart which loves you to
desperation, and mine you must be.  I have the means of enforcing my
request--if your friend interferes, she must take the consequences, and
will be compelled to accompany you."

"You are mad, sir, to suppose for a moment that I would consent to such
a proposal; let me and my friend go, I entreat you."

"For your refusal I was prepared," exclaimed the stranger, "but it will
not avail you;" and putting a silver whistle to his mouth, he blew it
shrilly.  It was answered from a distance, and Ellen, looking in the
direction from which the sound came, saw two mounted men, each with a
led horse, approaching.  Ellen now gave way to her fears, and uttered
loud shrieks for help.  Norah felt all her energies paralysed by the
threatened act of violence, and could only cling to Ellen's arm and
murmur, "Don't leave me! don't leave me!"

A wall rather too high to be leaped over intervened between them and the
horsemen.  They had to make a circuit to reach a gate which opened into
the road before they gained it.  The rattle of wheels was heard, and
loud shouts of laughter between snatches of song.  Just then Ellen saw a
line of cars, the horses at full speed, coming along the road; the
stranger saw them too, and seizing Norah round the waist, endeavoured to
drag her to the wall; but Ellen and she clung frantically to each other,
Ellen again and again shrieking loudly for help.  On came the cars; some
men in seamen's dresses sprang from the first, one of them shouting out,
"Shure, it's the young mistress!  Be alive, and dale smartly with the
outrageous thief of the world who's dared to lay hands on her;" and,
joined by a dozen or more men from the other cars, armed with stout
shillelaghs, Dan Connor dashed forward at headlong speed.  The stranger
glanced round to see how far off their horses still were from him, and
finding that they had not yet passed through the gate, and that all hope
of carrying off Norah must be abandoned, vaulted over the wall and ran
towards them.  His companions, seeing what had occurred, hurried up to
his assistance.  Just as the party of seamen had got close upon his
heels, he threw himself upon one of the led horses and galloped off,
followed by the shouts and execrations of the seamen, who were,
fortunately for him, without firearms.

"Shure, Miss Norah, jewel, you're all safe now, and that mighty big
blackguard, whoever he may be, will do you no harm," exclaimed Dan.  "If
you and the young lady will just mount on the car, we'll escort you safe
into Waterford; and if he and a score of Rapparees like himself were to
come back, we'd bate them all off before they could come near you."

"Let us get up on the car, as the sailor advises us," said Ellen; and
she mounted and helped Norah up, when the seamen running on each side,
they set off at a brisk pace, followed by the other cars.

"It's at the wake of poor Pat Casey we've been, Miss Norah.  He niver
was himself after the wound he got when we fought the privateer--and
shure, we were coming home at daybreak; but somehow or other, what with
the potheen, and the friends we met, and a scrimmage or two, we made a
long morning of it; and bedad, good luck it was, or we wouldn't have
come up in time to put that fellow to flight."

Ellen, who had somewhat recovered from her alarm, assured Dan how
thankful she felt to him and his shipmates and friends for the service
they had rendered Norah and herself.

"Service, Misthress Ferris! it was the greatest pleasure I've had since
I was born, and I only wish I'd the same every day of my life.  What
would Mr Massey have been after doing if that thundering villain had
got you and Miss Norah upon his horses and galloped off through the
country wid ye!--but he'd betther not be showing his face again in these
parts, whoever he is," answered Dan.  "As soon as we've seen you both
safe home, we'll go in chase of him, and it will be hard if we don't
catch him, too."

Norah did not say whom she suspected the ruffian to be who had attempted
the outrage; indeed, she was far too nervous to speak, and it was not
till, escorted by Dan and his friends, they arrived safely at home, that
she mentioned her suspicions to Ellen.  She begged her to make as light
as possible of the matter, for fear of agitating Captain Tracy in a way
which might be injurious to him in his present state of health.  Still,
the circumstance could not be altogether concealed from him.  Abduction
was at that time too common in Ireland for what had occurred to create
much surprise.  The only difficulty was to ascertain who the man could
be, though it was generally believed that his intention was to carry off
Miss Ferris, who was known to be an heiress.  At that time there
actually existed in the neighbourhood an association known as the
Abduction Club, all the members of which had sworn to assist each other
in carrying off such young ladies as either of them fixed upon.  By
means of their spies, they made themselves acquainted with the fortunes
of every marriageable girl and the domestic arrangements of the family.
Sometimes, when she had not been claimed by any particular member, they
drew lots to whom she should belong, and the rest were then bound to
assist the fortunate winner.  No class of society, from the highest to
the opulent farmer or tradesman, was exempt from the depredations of the
associates.  They themselves were mostly the younger sons or relations
of families of some standing, who, looking upon commerce as beneath
them, with too little education to succeed in the learned professions,
if they could not obtain a commission in the army, spent their lives in
idleness, and were known as squireens.  Generally being able to borrow
good horses from their rich friends, they rode about the country habited
in red waistcoats lined with narrow gold or silver lace or fur, tight
leather breeches, and top-boots; making themselves conspicuous at fairs,
markets, races, and assizes, and in other places where people
congregated.  They excelled in athletic sports, especially in the game
of hurling, when they took the lead among the young men of the peasant
class who engaged in it, and thus became identified with them, and could
on all occasions rely on their support.  Though the crime of abduction
was punishable with death, as the girls who were thus carried off were
in most instances immediately married, few were found willing to
prosecute their husbands.  The law was consequently almost inoperative,
and the abominable practice up to this day had continued unchecked.

Mr Ferris was of course highly indignant.  He at once took steps to
discover the offender, though, as he had not succeeded in his attempt,
there was little probability that he would be captured, or if so,
punished.  The annoyance, also, to which his daughter and her friend
must in future be subjected, from being unable to venture outside the
garden without a strong guard, was provoking in the extreme; still, the
daring characters of the men who were known to be combined for the
purpose rendered it unsafe for the young ladies to go abroad unless thus
protected.

Dan and Pompey, with the other seamen of the _Ouzel Galley_, and several
friends who joined them, as soon as they had left Norah and Ellen safe
at home, set off in chase of the ruffians, armed with such weapons as
they could hastily obtain, in addition to the shillelaghs they had
before possessed.  Following in the direction they had seen the horsemen
going, they made their way over all impediments, inquiring of every one
they met, and hoping by perseverance to overtake them.  They learnt,
however, after proceeding a considerable distance, that the men had
separated, one going off with the led horses in the direction of the
mountains to the westward, another turning southward towards Tramore
Bay, while the third followed a road which would conduct him to Passage,
near the mouth of the river, whence he could cross into Wexford.  The
parties accordingly divided, but had not gone far when they lost all
trace of the fugitives, and as Dan observed, "They might as well be
looking for a needle in a bottle of hay, as hope to find the spalpeen."
Late at night they returned to Kingscourt House, the residence of Mr
Ferris, to report the ill-success of their expedition.

"Bedad, your honour, we'll be after keeping a sharp look-out on the
fellows, and if any one of them shows his ugly face in the
neighbourhood, we'll be down upon him as quick as lightning," said Dan.

"But if you don't know the men--and from what I understand, you only saw
their backs in the gloom--you will find a considerable difficulty in
recognising them," observed Mr Ferris, "and may chance to lay hands on
the wrong persons."

"Shure, your honour, we'll ask them if they're the right ones before we
give them a taste of the shillelagh," answered Dan.

"At all events, Connor, I wish you, and a dozen stout fellows you may
pick out, to act as a guard at my house, to protect my daughter and her
friend, should any yet more daring attempt be made to carry them off,"
replied Mr Ferris.

"I'll do that same with all the pleasure in life," answered Dan, "though
it may be a hard matter to keep our eyes open to-night, seeing we were
waking Pat Casey till a late hour this morning, and then, after seeing
him laid dacently under the turf, had to drink long life and success to
his sperrit and a short stay in purgatory, where the praste told us he
had gone--though, being a kind-hearted man, he'd do his best to pray him
out of it."

"I have no fear of any fresh attempt being made to-night, so you may all
sleep soundly in your beds," said Mr Ferris; "but I shall require you
to-morrow, and for some time to come after that, while I remain at
Waterford."

In those days the dinner-hour, even in the houses of the opulent, was at
two o'clock, and some time before that two well-manned boats, from the
stern of which floated the British ensign, reached the quay at
Waterford.  Only three officers, however, stepped on shore, the captain
and two others, whom he introduced as his lieutenants to Mr Ferris, who
went down to meet him.  All were dressed in uniforms closely resembling
that of the British navy, for such privateersmen were wont to wear.
Captain Dupin, who spoke with a slight French accent, as most Jersey men
did at that period, was a fair, good-looking young man, with a somewhat
short though well-knit figure, his countenance betoking courage and
determination.  His first lieutenant, whom he introduced as Mr
Macarthy, was a man of a very different mould.  His well-bronzed
features were concealed by a large beard and moustache, while a black
patch over one eye, and another down his cheek, showing that he had
suffered in the fight, did not add to the attractiveness of his
appearance.

"As he is a countryman of yours, he was anxious to avail himself of your
invitation, though scarcely recovered from wounds he received is our
last action with a French ship, which we captured after a determined
resistance," observed the captain.  "He was shot through the mouth,
which considerably impedes his speech; but he will be able
notwithstanding to do justice to your good fare, as I have no doubt you
will perceive."

Mr Macarthy shook hands with Mr Ferris, and expressed his satisfaction
at finding himself once more on his native soil.

"It is many a long year since I left the old country, and from that time
till I landed a few months ago in Jersey I have been knocking about in
distant seas," said the lieutenant.  "Although Ballyadare, in Sligo, is
my native place, I have more than once in my younger days visited
Waterford, and this is not the first time I have been on shore at your
beautiful town.  Faith, sir, it is a place to boast of; so fine a river,
such magnificent quays, and that old tower I see there--I forget its
name--where will you find the like?"

Mr Ferris, pleased with the compliment paid to his city, was ready to
overlook the somewhat rough manner and exterior of his guest.

"Indeed, sir," he said, "we are apt to boast of our virgin city and its
quays, a mile long as you will perceive, at which sixty sail of vessels
can unload at a time; of our dry dock, lately built by our townsman Mr
Congreve; of our conduits, which supply both our houses and the shipping
with water; of the privileges enjoyed by our citizens; and of our
militia, mustering five hundred men, and capable of giving a good
account of any enemy who may dare to invade our shores.  You will, I
hope, meet some of the officers at dinner to-day."

"By my soul, it is a city you may well be proud of," answered the
lieutenant; "and it is to be hoped that no enemy for their own sakes
will ever venture within gunshot of your redoubtable militia."

The second lieutenant was introduced as a young Jersey man, Mr Latrobe.
He spoke with more French accent than his chief, who accounted for his
so doing by remarking that he had not come to sea till he was nearly
grown up, and had during peace time served on board a French merchant
vessel.  "We Jersey men," he added, "though our sympathies are
thoroughly English, yet retain, as you know, the language and customs of
our Breton ancestors."

"Come, gentlemen, I must conduct you to my humble residence," said Mr
Ferris, and, leading his guests up Hanover Street, so called by the
loyal inhabitants in compliment to the reigning royal family, they
entered King Street, towards the west end of which was situated Mr
Ferris's house, overlooking the river.  On reaching the house, as there
was time to spare, Mr Ferris took them round his grounds, of which they
were loud in their compliments.  So pleased did they declare themselves
that they begged to go round them a second time, when the lieutenant
might have been seen narrowly observing the localities.  As they paced
round the outer circuit on their walk, they met Ellen and Norah, to whom
of course Mr Ferris introduced his guests.  The officers bowed, and
Captain Dupin, addressing Ellen, expressed his admiration of her
beautiful garden and the taste with which it was laid out.

"Surely I need not inquire whether you were the chief designer of these
lovely terraces and sparkling fountains, and that picturesque rockwork,"
said the captain, bowing as he spoke.

"No, I can claim no merit for the beauties you admire," answered Ellen;
"my father purchased the property from the former owner.  I should have
liked it better had it been left more to nature."

"Ah, if you could see Jersey!  How you would delight in my own native
island!" exclaimed Captain Dupin; "it contains just the scenery you
would appreciate."

"I can assure you that in Ireland we have most romantic and beautiful
scenery," answered Ellen; "and in the county of Kerry are the lovely
Lakes of Killarney, such as I believe all strangers consider the most
romantic in the world."

"Ah, I know nothing of Ireland, though I may hope some day to be better
acquainted with it," said the captain.

The other two stood aloof, as if they did not consider themselves of
sufficient consequence to address the young ladies to whom their
commander was speaking.  Ellen, offering to show Captain Dupin the
aviary, led the way along the terrace.  Norah followed by herself,
leaving the two lieutenants in conversation with Mr Ferris.  The elder
of the two after a little time stepped forward, and Norah, looking
round, found him walking by her side.

"Is this spot as attractive as some of the scenes you have visited in
the West Indies, Miss Tracy?" he asked, speaking low.

Norah started as she heard the voice; but looking at the speaker, whose
countenance she failed to recognise, she asked, "How do you know that I
have been in the West Indies, Mr Macarthy?"

"I heard from a seaman who came on board the _Orestes_ that you had
accompanied your father on board the _Ouzel Galley_," he answered
quietly.  "Irishmen are wonderfully communicative, you know.  It is an
unusual thing for young ladies to take such a voyage in time of war."

"I sailed before war had broken out, or I am very sure my father would
not have taken me," she replied, banishing the idea which had flashed
across her mind.  "He probably heard from the seaman that a young lady
was staying with Miss Ferris, and thus guessed who I was," she thought
to herself.

After again going round the grounds, the party returned to the house,
where the other guests had begun to assemble.  Captain Dupin and his
officers were duly introduced and cordially welcomed to Waterford.
Among others, Lieutenant Vinoy was brought up by the host.

"Though you gentlemen would look upon each other as enemies were you to
meet on the ocean, here, I trust, you will be friends," said Mr Ferris.
The officers bowed politely.

"I ave moche plaisir to meet Monsieur le Capitaine Dupin in dis
hospitable maison," said the French lieutenant; "if ve evare encounter
vis one anodare on de sea, den ve fight like des braves hommes--n'est-ce
pas, Monsieur le Capitaine?"

"I could not desire a greater honour," answered the Jersey man.  "Nor,
by my faith, could I," exclaimed the first lieutenant of the _Orestes_.

"Ah, I moche fear I remain prisonare here to do end of de war," sighed
Monsieur Vinoy; "but, ma foi, I am too happy in dis charmante ville vid
dese aimable young ladies to vish to leave.  It was de fortune de la
guerre vich brought me here, and I vill not complain."

"You might certainly have been much worse off," observed Captain Dupin.
"I have no doubt you fought your ship, like a brave man, till all hope
of victory was gone."

"Ve vill not talk of dat," answered the lieutenant, turning away,
probably not quite relishing the remark, recollecting how he had been
caught napping.

Three of the officers of the city militia were next introduced to the
naval guests.  Judged by their uniform, they were remarkably fine
fellows, for their coats were blue, with scarlet linings and gilt
buttons, their waistcoats and breeches being also of scarlet, and their
hats richly adorned with gold lace.  They had evidently, as was natural,
a decidedly good opinion of themselves, and were somewhat inclined to
look down upon the more simply dressed tars.  The first lieutenant of
the _Orestes_ eyed them askance from under his shaggy eyebrows,
apparently regarding them, for some reason or other, with no friendly
feeling.  After exchanging salutations, he at once turned aside and
addressed himself to some of the civilians.

"We are expecting a king's ship every day to visit our harbour--the
_Champion_, 18-gun sloop of war, Commander Olding," observed one of the
gentlemen.  "Contrary winds may have detained her, or perhaps she has
fallen in with a Frenchman; and I will venture to say, if such is the
case, that she has taken him, for the navy does not possess a more
gallant and resolute officer than my friend."

Captain Dupin involuntarily shrugged his shoulders and bowed.  "I have
no doubt of the gallantry of the officers of the Royal Navy," he
observed.  An opportunity occurring, he stepped back and spoke a few
words to his two lieutenants.  The younger of the two looked somewhat
agitated; though the elder, whatever thoughts were passing in his mind,
retained a perfect composure.  He managed to hand in Norah to dinner,
and to obtain a seat by her side.  He spoke in a low voice, which once
or twice, it seemed to her, was unnatural; but he accounted for it as
his commander had done to Mr Ferris, by saying that he had received a
wound in his mouth.  He described many strange places and scenes he had
visited, and appeared, notwithstanding the time he had been absent from
his native country, to be well acquainted with various parts of Ireland.
Altogether, he succeeded in making Norah think him an agreeable person,
although ill-favoured and rather rough in his manner.  Captain Dupin was
equally successful in gaining the good opinion of Ellen, near whom he
sat; while he contrived at the same time to ingratiate himself, by his
lively conversation and the compliments he paid to Ireland, with most of
the guests--and all agreed that he was superior to most of the privateer
officers they had met.

The feast need not be described; the viands were in abundance, and
claret, followed by whisky punch, flowed freely.  A watchful observer
would have discovered that neither of the officers drank more than they
could help, though they were compelled to take no small quantity, simply
in accepting the pledges they received in turn from the rest of the
guests.  The usual Orange toasts were drunk--especially the chief one,
"The glorious and immortal memory!" the whole party standing, although
they did not, as was occasionally done, shiver their glasses on the
ground--the principal inhabitants of Waterford being great admirers of
William of Orange.  Soon after this the ladies retired.  The officers,
to the surprise of the other guests, rose to take their leave, and some
were inclined to insist on their stopping.

"It is altogether _contra bonos mores_, gentlemen, to leave us at this
hour with only half a cargo on board," exclaimed Mr Peter Vashan, one
of the sheriffs of the city; "we shall suspect you of being no true men.
Sit down and help us to finish another dozen of claret."

Similar expressions were uttered by others.  Captain Dupin was firm,
even though he saw angry and contemptuous glances cast on them by some
of those whose rule of good fellowship he was about to infringe.

"To tell you the truth, gentlemen," he said, "I cannot be longer absent
with my chief officers from the ship.  You know that privateersmen are
not the most orderly of characters; I am uncertain how my fellows may
behave during my absence, though I can answer for their good conduct
when I am among them.  Before I left the ship I gave directions to have
a slight entertainment provided, and I invite our generous host, with
all who favour me with their company, to bring their wives and families
with them.  The evening is fine, and the moon will be up to light you on
your return; and, as an inducement to some who have an eye to business,
I may add that we have on board part of the cargo of the last prize we
took, rich silks and brocades, and other manufactures of France, and as
I am in no hurry to go into port, I shall be glad to dispose of them on
moderate terms; while I am anxious to purchase provisions and stores,
which I am sure your town will supply of the best quality."

The captain, as he spoke, looked round on the party, and was perfectly
satisfied that his invitation would be accepted, and that he would be
able to obtain whatever he required for his ship.  No further effort was
made to detain him; even Mr Ferris promised to come, with his daughter
and her friend, and most of the other gentlemen expressed their
readiness to take the ladies of their families on board.  Captain Dupin
and his two lieutenants hurried down to their boats, which were in
waiting at the quay, the crews having, according to orders, not even
landed or held any communication with the people on shore,
notwithstanding the pressing invitations they had received from the
tavern-keepers on the quay.

"Begorra, I never knew a Jersey man who couldn't spake dacent English,"
exclaimed one of the men, who had been trying to induce the sailors to
land.  "Their captain may be what he says he is; but, shure, it's
strange for sailors to come into harbour and not to look out for a dhrop
of the crathur."

Similar remarks were made by others, though they ceased when the captain
and his officers appeared and hailed the boats, which came to the shore
and took them in.  They immediately pulled down the river as fast as the
crews could lay their backs to the oars.  This proceeding began to
excite the suspicions of the people on the quays, but they were once
more lulled when it was known that they had gone on board to prepare for
the reception of visitors from the shore.

When Norah heard of the invitation, she declined accepting it on the
plea that her father required her attendance, which indeed was the
truth, as he was more unwell than he had been for some days.  Having
also lately been at sea, to her there was no novelty in a visit to a
ship; besides which, she had not entirely recovered from the agitation
she had suffered the previous evening.  Ellen would have remained to
keep her company, pleased though she was at the thought of visiting a
man-of-war; but her father wished to have her with him, as several
ladies, wives and daughters of the sheriffs and aldermen, were going.
The party, consisting of nearly thirty ladies and gentlemen, soon
assembled at the quay.  Their respective boats having been got in
readiness, with civic and private flags flying, the little flotilla
proceeded at a rapid rate down the river, the tide being in their
favour.

Mr Ferris had invited Lieutenant Vinoy, who had won the good opinion of
his captors by his quiet behaviour and amiable manners, to accompany the
party.  He would probably like to see a British ship of war, and of
course there was no fear of his being detained on board.  The lieutenant
at first hesitated, but finally accepted the invitation, and accordingly
formed one of the party.

The boats made good way, and though the pull was a long one, they soon
came in sight of the privateer, which lay in mid-channel.

"Why, that craft has a spring on her cable," observed Captain O'Brien,
who had accompanied Mr Ferris; "her topsails are loose, as if she was
ready to put to sea at a moment's notice."

"So probably she would, should she catch sight of a Frenchman in the
offing," observed Mr Ferris; "the enemy's merchant vessels do not
hesitate to stand along this coast, as we have so seldom a man-of-war on
the look-out for them.  Captain Dupin is of course aware of that, and
was consequently in a hurry to get us to pay him a visit."

The ex-merchant captain said nothing, but still kept examining the
_Orestes_ with a critical eye.  "She may be a Jersey privateer, but she
has a French cut about her from her truck downwards," he muttered to
himself.

The leading boats went alongside, and the officers were seen standing
ready to assist the ladies on deck.  The other boats followed, and the
whole party were soon on board.  Hurried arrangements had been made for
their reception; the after-part of the main-deck was roofed in with
flags, and supper-tables had been rigged on either side, already spread
with white cloths, on which several servants were placing dishes of all
sorts, while a band of musicians began to play lively airs.

"I must not boast of our music," said the captain, bowing to the ladies;
"but finding that some of my men could play on various instruments, I
formed them into a band, and perhaps the young ladies may be inclined to
walk a minuet or to try a country-dance."

No young ladies of the party were likely to decline such an offer.  The
captain himself led out Ellen, and two or three of his officers, with
Lieutenant Vinoy and some of the young gentlemen from the shore,
followed his example.  The minuet being voted slow, a country-dance
quickly succeeded it.  The young ladies who had the officers of the ship
for their partners were struck by their extraordinary taciturnity; for,
with the exception of the young lieutenant who had visited the shore,
not one of them spoke a word.  Captain Dupin remarked that they were
rough fellows, little accustomed to the society of ladies, and were too
bashful to speak--though Miss Kathleen O'Rourke, one of the belles of
the party, observed that they seemed anything but bashful from their
looks.

"Ah, they are all more accustomed to French; indeed, scarcely one of my
crew knows a word of English," said the captain.

While the younger members of the party were dancing away on deck, the
captain, requesting another gentleman to take his place, invited the
merchants who had honoured him by a visit to come below into his cabin,
where they found an elegant supper spread, with an abundance of
sparkling wines.  He begged them to be seated, remarking that the
dancers would be entertained on deck, and would prefer the fresh air to
the somewhat confined atmosphere of the cabin.

"We older hands are seasoned, and the quiet we can here enjoy is more to
our taste," he said.  The party at once set to; the wine flowed freely,
and all declared they had never tasted finer claret or Burgundy.  The
captain apologised for having only French wines on board, but remarked
that he liked to have them of the best.  After some time, one of the
gentlemen reminded him that they had come on business, and begged to see
samples of the goods he had to dispose of.  Others expressed the same
wish.

"As you desire it, gentlemen, I will have them brought," replied Captain
Dupin; and he spoke in French to one of the people in attendance, who in
a short time returned, accompanied by two other persons bringing in
numerous parcels and cases, pieces of cloth, satin and silk.  The
captain called for a book, and read out the quantities of each,
requesting his guests in the mean time to examine them.

"They are sold in good faith, and I believe you will not be
disappointed," he observed.  "Now, gentlemen," he continued, "I am in
want of a considerable amount of fresh provisions and stores for my
ship, and with which I feel sure you will be ready to supply me.  I
have, however, to remark that I require them immediately, and I shall
feel obliged to you if you will send on shore and order them to be
brought off without delay.  From among so many honourable merchants I
have no doubt that I can be speedily provided with the whole amount."

"Will you furnish us with a list of your wants?" asked Mr Ferris, "and
I and my friends will gladly send them on board as soon as we return on
shore."

"I do not mistrust your good intentions," answered Captain Dupin, "but
as time is precious to me, and I should be sorry to lose you, I must
request you to despatch orders to your managers and clerks to send off
the stores while you remain on board."

"I thought so!" exclaimed the old sea-captain, bringing his fist down on
the table.  "What fools we were to be so caught!  May I ask you, Captain
Dupin, how long you have carried the British ensign at your peak?"

"Since I came in sight of Waterford harbour," answered Captain Dupin.
"To confess the truth, I have practised a slight ruse on you; but be
assured that I would not cause you or your friends, who are now so
happily amusing themselves on deck, the slightest annoyance beyond the
detention of a few hours--indeed, only until the stores you send for
arrive."

"Is this vessel, then, not a Jersey privateer, as we were led to
suppose?" asked Mr Ferris, with some little trepidation in his voice.

"No, sir; I must own that she is the _Coquille_, belonging to Dunkirk,
and that I am Captain Thurot, of whom you may possibly have heard,"
answered the captain.

"Thurot! the most daring smuggler that ever crossed the Channel,"
whispered Captain O'Brien, in a low voice, to his neighbour; "we are
caught like rats in a trap.  He is as cunning as he is daring, and will
keep us in durance till he gets what he wants."



CHAPTER SIX.

CAPTAIN THUROT DEMANDS A SUPPLY OF PROVISIONS--THE MERCHANTS SEND, FOR
THEM--CAPTAIN THUROT'S HISTORY--THE DISCOVERY--MOST OF THE GUESTS
ALLOWED TO TAKE THEIR DEPARTURE--MR. FERRIS, WITH ELLEN AND CAPTAIN
O'BRIEN, REMAIN AS HOSTAGES--THE CHAMPION APPEARS IN THE OFFING--CAPTAIN
THUROT ALLOWS THE HOSTAGES TO GO ON SHORE IN THE DINGHY.

The astonishment and dismay of the worthy burghers of Waterford, who had
thus been so unsuspectingly entrapped on board the French privateer, can
better be imagined than described.  "I am surprised, Captain Thurot,
that since you are disposed to act so courteously towards us, you did
not when on shore mention your wish, to have the stores sent on board,
when I should have had no hesitation in procuring them for you," said
Mr Ferris.

"My good sir, I would have done so, but I thought it more than probable
that the stores would be stepped on their passage, and therefore, to
make sure of getting them, I adopted my present plan," replied Captain
Thurot; "besides which, I have enjoyed the opportunity of returning your
hospitality, though in a very inadequate manner, I must confess.  I have
likewise recovered one of my officers, who, as he came on board with
your consent, will not break his parole by remaining.  I have also to
request that you will send the men captured by the _Ouzel Galley_ in
exchange for your people, who will be detained on board till their
arrival."

"But, sir," exclaimed Captain O'Brien, who was by this time fuming with
rage, "how are we to return to Waterford without hands to man our
boats?"

"Most of the young gentlemen on deck can pull, as I have no doubt can
some of you, my friends," answered Captain Thurot; "and you may land at
Passage, from whence you can send over to Waterford for conveyances for
the ladies, as we should be sorry to detain them against their will--
though we hope that they will continue on board and keep up the dance
for some hours to come; it would be a pity to interfere with their
amusement by telling them of the little ruse which we have been under
the necessity of playing."

Mr Ferris and the other gentlemen consulted as to what was to be done.
One thing was very certain, that they could not help themselves; and
they finally agreed to send off privately for the stores and provisions
which had been demanded without letting those on deck know of what had
occurred.  Writing materials were produced; each merchant was politely
requested to send for what he could supply.

"Be under no apprehension of any loss," said Captain Thurot; "I promise
to pay liberally for all the stores I may receive.  Though a privateer,
I am not a robber; indeed, being your countryman, and loving Ireland as
the home of my ancestors, I should be sorry to treat any of you with
want of courtesy."

"A countryman of ours!" exclaimed Mr Ferris, looking up.

"Yes, sir," answered the captain.  "I took the name of Thurot from my
mother; my grandfather's name was O'Farrel--and proud I am of a name
which has never been disgraced.  But I must not interrupt you,
gentlemen.  Go on with your writing; I will by-and-by, if you wish it,
entertain you with my history.  I have nothing to be ashamed of."

The merchants resumed their pens, and having consulted together, their
orders were soon made out and despatched by one of the boats which had
brought them on board.  In the mean time the party on deck were footing
it away right merrily, entirely ignorant of what had been taking place
below; the officers of militia, notwithstanding their gay uniforms,
finding themselves eclipsed by the superior terpsichorean attainments of
the Frenchmen.  Lieutenant Vinoy seemed in high spirit, and efficiently
performed the office of master of the ceremonies, apparently feeling
himself quite at home.  Some of the merchants, having finished their
despatches, were about to go on deck.

"Stay, gentlemen," exclaimed the captain; "we will discuss a few more
bottles of claret first.  We will not interrupt the amusements of the
young people by letting them know the character of my ship, for, depend
on it, they will be treated with all due courtesy, and will not, I
trust, regret having come on board."

The claret, which had been pronounced first-rate, was a temptation not
to be resisted, and the guests, who had risen, making a virtue of
necessity, resumed their seats, prepared to do justice to as many
bottles as might be placed before them.

"Now, gentlemen," said Captain Thurot, "you shall, if it is your desire,
hear my history; it will serve to occupy some of the time till the
return of the boat."

"By all means, captain; we shall be glad to have an account of the life
of one whom none of us are likely to forget in a hurry," said Mr
Ferris.  Others also expressed the same wish.

The captain laughed.  "It is pleasant to feel that there is no risk of
being forgotten by one's friends," he observed; "and you will be still
less likely to do so when I have narrated a few of the incidents of my
life.  I may remark that some of my acts may not be looked upon by you
in the same light as that in which I regard them.  I must be judged by a
different code to yours.  I have never owed allegiance to your
sovereign, and therefore you must not blame me for breaking his revenue
laws in the way which I shall have to tell you I have done.  However, to
my history.  My grandfather, Captain O'Farrel, was an officer in the
army of King James the Second, and fought at the battle of the Boyne, so
fatal to the royal cause.  When the king was compelled to leave the
country and retire to France, Captain O'Farrel was among the loyal
gentlemen who followed his fortunes and accompanied him to Saint
Germain.  Here my grandfather, having been appointed one of the
gentlemen of the king's household, met with Mademoiselle Thurot, a
beautiful and accomplished young lady of ancient lineage, whose uncle,
with whom she lived, was at that time a member of the parliament of
Paris.  A penniless adventurer, as Captain O'Farrel was regarded, was
looked upon with distrust by the young lady's relatives, who endeavoured
to keep him at a distance.  Love scorns difficulties, especially when
burning in the breast of an Irishman, and that Irishman a handsome,
dashing officer who has seen service.  The captain carried off the young
lady, and she became his wife.  So angry were her uncle and her other
wealthy relations in Paris that they discarded her, refusing to
contribute a sou to her support.  My grandfather had alone the stipend
he received from his royal master, and when King James died he was left
to his own resources--they were small indeed.  He tried by various means
to make an income, but the natives had in every way the advantage of
him; and at last, with his young wife, and the remnant of his property
contained in a valise, he retired to Boulogne, in the hope that some of
his wife's relatives who resided in that town would have larger bowels
of compassion than those he had left in the city.  The once gay and
high-spirited officer found himself mistaken: they could not give any
encouragement to one who had set so bad an example to the younger
members of their families; should they support Madame O'Farrel, their
own daughters might be throwing themselves away on some of the Irish
adventurers, with whom the country swarmed, and expect to be provided
with houses and establishments.

"My poor grandfather, almost broken-hearted, was on the point of
starvation, when he received a small pension allowed by the Queen of
France to all those who had faithfully served their exiled sovereign.
Hard service, wounds, and disappointment soon terminated his life; and
three months after he had been laid in his grave my father was born--
fatherless before he saw the light--and soon became motherless, for
Madame O'Farrel survived her husband scarcely a year.  The destitute
condition of the orphan at length moved the compassion of some of his
relatives of the Thurot family, who adopted him and brought him up under
their own name.  He was intended for the law, and studied for some
years; but he had Irish blood coursing through his veins, and, under the
expectation of obtaining a fortune with a wife, he fell in love and
married.  He was, however, disappointed in his hopes; but the lady soon
dying, gave him an opportunity of again trying the lottery of matrimony.
His second wife was Mademoiselle Picard, the daughter of a
wine-merchant, or, as some people might have called him, a vintner; but
if, as I hope was the case, he sold good wines, why should I be ashamed
of him?  My father's second wife was my mother; but at the moment of my
birth my father was deprived of her by death, and I lost the advantage
of being nursed by a tender parent.  My father was heartbroken, and when
he looked at me, a poor frail infant, he believed that I should not
survive.  He had two duties to perform--to have my mother buried, and to
carry me to the baptismal font.  While the tears were streaming from his
eyes, as he held me in his arms, a dignified and handsomely dressed lady
approached, and, having inquired and heard the cause of his grief,
offered herself as sponsor to the motherless child.  She was Madame
Tallard, a lady of high rank and fortune--it being the custom of the
country for ladies of distinction to offer themselves at that period of
the year as sponsors for the children of the poorer classes.  Madame
Tallard did more; she sent my father a present for me, and desired that
should I survive till her return I might be presented to her.  She was
as good as her word, and not only contributed to the expenses of my
education, but I received much kindness from her and her family.  When I
was about fifteen, a stranger called on my father, and hearing whose son
he was, announced that his name was O'Farrel, and claimed relationship.
He stated that he was the commander of an Irish trader, and so worked
upon my father and me by the account of the success of his voyages, that
he stirred up in my heart a strong desire to join him in his
enterprises.  As our cousin promised to introduce me to various members
of the O'Farrel family, who were, he said, flourishing in Connaught, and
would be certain to welcome me cordially, my father, seeing also that
there was but little chance of my pushing my fortune in France,
consented to my going; but as I at that time could not speak a word of
English, I should have had considerable difficulty in making myself
understood by my relatives or in understanding them.

"My Irish cousin having fitted me out, I set sail with him for Limerick;
but I found him wonderfully addicted to the whisky bottle, and being
also of a harsh and tyrannical disposition, I soon quarrelled with him.
Instead of proceeding direct to Limerick, we put in to the Isle of Man,
where, not wishing to remain longer with my cousin, I took the liberty
of deserting the vessel, and, running away inland, I hid myself in the
barn of a farmhouse till I thought she would have sailed.  On coming out
of my place of concealment, the first person I met was the owner of the
property.  He addressed me in English, of which language I could not, as
I have said, then understand a word.  On my telling him in French that
the vessel to which I belonged had sailed away without me, he spoke to
me in my native tongue, and asked if I was hungry--for I suppose I
looked so.  I replied that I was, and should be thankful for a loaf of
bread and a bottle of wine.  He laughed and said that wine was not the
liquor of the country, but that, if I would accompany him, he would give
me some bread and cheese and beer.  I did not refuse his offer--and, _ma
foi_, very excellent I found his viands.  I asked him if he had anything
for me to do, as I should be glad to serve him in return for his
hospitality.  He laughed again, telling me that I was a sharp boy, and
that, if I wished it, he would take me into his employment.  He did so,
when I found that he was the owner of several luggers which ran between
France and the English and Irish coasts to land contraband goods.  After
I had remained on shore for some time, he asked me if I would like to
take a trip to sea.  I was perfectly ready to do as he proposed, and the
next day I went on board one of his vessels.  We were never idle;
sometimes bringing cargoes from France to the Isle of Man, and at others
running the goods across from France to Ireland.  I thus gained a fair
knowledge of the trade.  My employer was pleased with me, and after I
had served him for some time he sent me over to Carlingford, where I
remained for a year managing his business, which was to dispose of the
goods landed from the luggers.  It was here that, by constantly
associating with the people of the country, and seldom meeting
Frenchmen, I learned to speak English with considerable fluency.  On my
return to the Isle of Man I resolved to put into execution an idea I had
long entertained, of discovering my paternal relations.  On telling my
employer, he advised me, should I fail in my object, to come back to him
without delay.  Finding a vessel bound for Dublin, I took my passage on
board her.  Great was my disappointment on my arrival to discover that,
although there was no end of O'Farrels, none of them would own me or
acknowledge themselves related to the _ci-devant_ captain of King
James's army.  Still, I was not to be beaten, and with a dozen shillings
in my pocket I set off for Galway, where I heard that some of my family
resided.  I was not disowned--for the reason that I could find no one to
disown me--and with my last shilling gone, I returned, footsore and
weary, to Dublin.

"Well, gentlemen, I was now in an unfortunate plight, when I had the
good luck to meet with the French valet of a certain noble lord whose
name I will not mention.  He was pleased to fall in with a person who
could speak the language of _la belle France_, and on hearing that I was
of gentle birth, he offered to obtain for me the situation of my lord's
page.  It suited my fancy, and, according to my notion, there was
nothing in it derogatory; so I accepted his offer, and for two years
enjoyed a pleasant and easy life--especially as her ladyship's
waiting-woman was a very amiable and agreeable person.  An unfortunate
circumstance brought my connection with the family to a close, and I was
compelled to take service with a noble earl whose residence was on the
sea-coast of Antrim.  I accompanied the earl on his shooting excursions,
more as a companion than as a servant; but he was frequently absent from
home, and I should have found the place very _triste_ had I not fallen
in with some of my old smuggling acquaintances.  With them I
occasionally made trips, to keep up my knowledge of the sea, and by
their means I was able to supply my friends with pieces of Indian stuff,
a few yards of muslin, or tea, or any other articles in request.  As
many other persons wished to possess these things, and were willing to
pay for them, I commenced a regular commerce, which quickly filled my
pockets with gold pieces.  Leaving the earl's service, in which I could
not conscientiously remain, I again took regularly to the sea, and
having so many friends along the coast, I was able without difficulty to
dispose of my cargoes.  A lady of some consideration in the county was
one of my chief purchasers.  Some one giving information to the officers
of excise that her house was full of smuggled goods, it was searched,
and they were discovered, when I was accused of having brought them
over.  The officers accordingly laid their plans to entrap me.  I had
come across from the Isle of Man with three other boats in company; they
were seized, but I managed to make my escape, and sailed over to the
coast of Scotland.  Here we landed our cargo, which we hid in a cave--
but how to sell it now that we had got it safely on shore was the
question.  I proposed that three of us should assume the character of
pedlars, and dispose of it piecemeal throughout the country.  My plan
was adopted; a pleasant time I had of it, travelling from place to place
and visiting the lord's castle and the farmer's cottage.  So successful
were we that my share amounted to a hundred and fifty pounds.  With this
sum in my pocket I travelled across to Edinburgh, where, dressing myself
as a gentleman, I took lodgings, intending after seeing the city and
enjoying myself for a brief space to return to France.  I happened,
however, to meet a Frenchman long settled in Edinburgh, and the owner of
several vessels which ran between Leith and London.  Happening to
require a master for one of these vessels, he asked if I would take
charge of her.  To this I agreed, and carried her safely into the
Thames; but, unhappily, a fire breaking out in a large warehouse near
which she was moored, she with several other vessels was burnt, and I
with some difficulty escaped on shore with the property I possessed.
Assuming my Irish name, I took lodgings in Carey Street, Lincoln's Inn
Fields, for the sake of being near a Mr Donnell, an Irish gentleman
famous for his knowledge of mathematics, from whom I received
instruction in navigation.  Through his recommendation I obtained the
command of a vessel, in which I made frequent trips backwards and
forwards between the English and French coasts, greatly increasing my
nautical knowledge and adding largely to my circle of friends.  I
conceived a warm admiration for the English, for though they have their
faults, they are a brave and generous people, and my wish on all
occasions has been to acknowledge their bravery and generosity.  It was
while I was in London that I used to visit a club held every Monday
evening in the Seven Dials, and frequented almost exclusively by
foreigners, mostly Frenchmen.  One evening, after they had imbibed more
than their usual quantity of wine, some of them began to abuse the
English and Irish, speaking of them in the most contemptuous manner.  I
listened without uttering a word for some time, till my patience
gradually evaporated, when, jumping up, I seized the two persons seated
close to me by their noses, and, holding them fast, dragged them to the
door, and then kicking them out, bolted it behind them.  Returning to my
seat, I said quietly, `Come, gentlemen, fill your glasses and let us
change the subject.'  Not one of the rest uttered a word, or ventured
again to speak ill of the nation among whom we were living.

"I shortly after this obtained the command of a vessel which ran between
Dunkirk and London, occasionally putting part of our cargo on shore in
any convenient spot where our agents were ready to receive it without
troubling the revenue.  For some years I carried on a free trade between
various French ports and the English coast, my chief place of residence
being London, where I had to go to settle my accounts; and then, wishing
once more to see my father, I went to Boulogne, where he still lived.  I
was now, in consequence of my successful voyages, looked upon as the
king of the smugglers.  I was proud of the title--but pride is often, as
you know, doomed to have a fall.  I may venture to say that during that
period I did not import and export less than twenty thousand pounds'
worth of goods every year.  It happened, however, that the French
Government did not quite approve of my proceedings, and the president of
the province, who happened to be the son of my old friend, Madame
Tallard, received orders to put a stop to our commerce.  Monsieur
Tallard had been my friend and playmate in our youth, but duty compelled
him to be vigilant, and I and several of my associates were arrested.
Some of them were hanged, but through his interference my life was
spared, though I was thrown into prison, where I languished for many a
long day.  At length, however, the French Government requiring the
services of persons well acquainted with the English coast, I was sent
for to Paris, where I was desired to give such information as I
possessed.  I now expected to obtain my liberty, but, instead of that,
those official gentlemen considered it prudent to keep me shut up till
they wanted me.  My friend Monsieur Tallard again interfered, and I was
suddenly transferred from prison to the command of a fine sloop of war.
It was a pleasant change, I can assure you, gentlemen; but the intention
of invading England having been abandoned by the Government, I found
that my ship was not likely to be employed.  I accordingly obtained
leave to resign my commission, and to take the command of the _Coquille_
privateer, the ship on board which I have had the pleasure of receiving
you as my guests."

Whatever might have been the opinion held by the Irish merchants as to
the career of their host, they did not think fit to express them.

"I congratulate you, Captain Thurot, on having at length attained a
position suited to your courage and talents," said Mr Ferris; "and as
you have thought fit to play a trick on us, we have to thank you for the
courteous way in which you have carried it out.  I hope your wants will
be supplied, and that we shall stand exonerated with our Government for
having furnished an enemy with stores."

"I will give you a certificate to the effect that you are under
compulsion," said the captain; "and if you in any way suffer, I will do
my best to make good the loss."

"That would be a difficult matter," observed Captain O'Brien, "though I
hope that our known loyalty will prevent our being subject to any unjust
suspicions.  Now, gentlemen," he continued, turning to friends, "we
should be wishing our entertainer farewell, or we shall lose the flood."

The party rose.  "I am sorry that, if you do go, you will yourselves
have to pull the boats up the river, unless some of you gentlemen and
Mr Ferris like to remain as hostages instead of your men," said Captain
Thurot.  "Pray understand that I do not doubt the word of any one of
you, but were I to allow all to return, the authorities on shore might
not consider themselves bound by your promises, and might withhold the
stores I require, as well as the men, I am somewhat anxious also about
my first lieutenant, who remained on shore about some business of his
own.  I will not, however, make you answerable for him, unless he is
taken prisoner, and then I shall expect you to return him safe on board;
and I must have a promise from you that you will do so.  Perhaps, in
order to induce those same authorities, who are collectively at times
somewhat stubborn, to act more promptly, it might be convenient if Mr
Ferris and his daughter and you, Captain O'Brien, would consent to
remain on board my ship until my people are sent back.  Monsieur Vinoy
came on board with your full sanction, so that I consider myself at
liberty to detain him.  In the case of Mr Ferris and Captain O'Brien
complying with my wish, you can take your men to row the boats up the
river.  The plan will, I should think, greatly facilitate matters."

"Not a bad plan," exclaimed two or three of the other gentlemen who were
to obtain their liberty.  "Ferris, you will not object to remain? nor
you, O'Brien?  Without our men we shall be hours getting up to
Waterford."

Mr Ferris was always ready to sacrifice himself for the public good,
though he would have preferred returning home.

"I must hear what my daughter says on the subject," he answered; "I will
not detain her against her wish.  At the same time, having perfect
confidence in the honour of Captain Thurot, I am ready to remain on
board, in order, my friends, to save you and your families from
inconvenience or anxiety."

"In that case, so am I," exclaimed Captain O'Brien.  "I had my
suspicions from the first that all was not right, and I deserve some
punishment for allowing myself and you to be entrapped."

"Very kind!"

"Very generous!"

"Very public-spirited!" cried the other gentlemen, who were eager to get
out of the scrape as soon as possible.  It became necessary at last to
let the party on deck know the true state of the case, and to desire
them to prepare for their departure.  Some would not even now believe
that they had been deceived; others were very indignant.  The militia
officers pulled their moustaches, swearing that they would return with
their men and capture the pirate, although they could not help
acknowledging that they had been politely treated by the Frenchmen.
Ellen was perfectly ready to remain with her father; she had a thorough
confidence in sailors of every nation, and as it now wanted but two or
three hours only to daylight, she could have the enjoyment of a row up
the river in the morning instead of during the night.  She sent a
message to Norah begging that she would not be anxious on her account.

Nothing could exceed the politeness of Captain Thurot and his officers
as they handed their visitors into the boats, now manned by their proper
crews, who swore that the Jersey men were broths of boys, and it was
just a pity that they couldn't speak a little better Irish.  Though
still able to pull, the boatmen gave undoubted proofs that they had not
been stinted in their liquor.

"Now, bhoys," cried one of the men, standing up and pulling off his hat,
"three cheers for the Jerseyman, and may good luck go with her on her
cruise--hip! hip! hurrah!" and their voices sounded far and wide across
the waters of the harbour.  The boats were soon lost to sight in the
darkness.  Mr Ferris and Ellen, with Captain O'Brien, having stood
watching them to the last, Lieutenant Vinoy drew near and expressed a
hope that Mr Ferris would not accuse him of breaking his parole.  "For
had I done so, I should not have been worthy of addressing you," he
remarked.

"Certainly not, my friend," said Mr Ferris; "we brought you on board,
and your captain tells me that he has detained you."

"Ah, that is indeed a satisfaction," exclaimed the lieutenant.  "I may
now give a message from the captain, who begs that you will take
possession of his cabin, which is entirely at your service; you must
consider it yours till the return of the boats with our men.  They will
soon, I hope, for your sakes, make their appearance."

Mr Ferris felt satisfied at having sacrificed himself for the benefit
of his friends.  Not that he experienced the slightest apprehension of
having to suffer any inconvenience.  Ellen declared that she liked the
fun, and only hoped that Norah would not be anxious about her.  Still
the time went by; the grey dawn was breaking, and no boats had appeared.
Captain O'Brien, who was much more fidgety than his friend, frequently
went on deck to take a look-out.  Ellen, who was reclining on a sofa,
had fallen asleep, while her father sat by her side.  A stream of bright
light coming through the cabin windows awoke her.  Just then Captain
O'Brien came down.

"By my faith, I believe our friend is going to carry us off to sea!" he
exclaimed; "I suspected there was something in the wind, and, going
aloft, I discovered a large ship in the offing; so did the Frenchmen,
and they immediately commenced hauling on their spring and letting fall
the canvas ready to make sail in a moment.  They don't like going
without their men and the promised provisions; but they will have to do
it if the boats don't return quickly, for I'm much mistaken if the
vessel I saw isn't the _Champion_, which we have so long been looking
for."

Ellen, who had hitherto been asleep, started as she heard Captain
O'Brien speak.  "The _Champion_, do you say?" she asked.

"I think it more than probable that she is," said the captain.  Ellen
did not reply, but the thought--and to her it was an agitating one--
immediately occurred to her mind, "The _Champion_ will surely attack the
French ship."  It was confirmed by the next remark her father made.

"If so, the Frenchman will have to fight for it, for Captain Olding is
not likely to let him go without questioning him," said Mr Ferris.

"But where do you think, my friend, we shall be in that case?" asked
Captain O'Brien.  "Thurot will scarcely send us on shore first in one of
his boats, and I see no signs of our own."

"Could we not get him to make a signal for a boat from the shore?  He
surely will not detain my daughter, with the prospect of having to fight
his ship," exclaimed Mr Ferris, becoming anxious.  "How mad I was to
allow her to remain!"

"Do not be alarmed about me.  I trust that we shall have no difficulty
in getting on board the _Champion_ should she enter the harbour," said
Ellen.

"We may be confident that Thurot will not wait for her here," said
Captain O'Brien; "but I will go on deck and get him without delay to
make a signal for a boat from the shore, if ours are not in sight.  If
they are, he will probably wait for them."

On going on deck Captain O'Brien found that the corvette had slipped her
cable, that the topsails were set, and that the crew were aloft loosing
the other sails.  Still, in spite of the wide folds of canvas which were
rapidly spread on the ship, the wind was so light that she made but
little way.  There was yet time for a boat to come off from the shore,
and Captain Thurot without hesitation made a signal as he was requested,
firing a gun to draw attention.  No boat however, appeared.

"Captain Thurot," exclaimed Captain O'Brien, going up to him, "I must
beg that you will send Miss Ferris and her father on shore before you
leave the harbour.  It would be terrible to expose her to all the risks
of a battle--and that you will be engaged in one with yonder ship, I
have no doubt.  She is a British ship of war, and is sure to attack you
when she finds out your character."

"But I intend to avoid her if I possibly can, and if compelled to fight,
I will place Miss Ferris and you two gentlemen in as safe a position as
we can find on board," said Captain Thurot.

"The safest, however, would not be satisfactory under the
circumstances," replied Captain O'Brien.  Captain Thurot looked greatly
annoyed.

"I know that," he said, "but it is necessary to send the boats ahead to
tow.  Were I to run the risk of losing the ship, the crew, and even the
officers, would mutiny--these privateersmen are difficult characters to
deal with; as it is, they will be discontented at not obtaining the
stores and recovering their shipmates.  My first lieutenant, also, is on
shore.  If I send you away, I have no guarantee that the stores will be
delivered, or that my people will be restored to me."

"You shall have the word of honour of two Irish gentlemen," answered
Captain O'Brien, "that should yonder vessel not prove to be the
_Champion_, or any other man-of-war, everything shall be arranged as you
wish; the stores and men shall be sent off to you, and your first
lieutenant restored, if we can find him."

Still Captain Thurot hesitated.  "You believe that ship out there to be
a British sloop of war?" he asked.

"I feel almost certain that she is the _Champion_; that she is a large
vessel of your own class, and carries eighteen guns of heavy metal; and,
moreover, I believe that if you venture to engage her she will take you.
If you follow my advice you will do your best to escape from her."

While this conversation was going on, the larger boats were being
lowered, and were now sent ahead to tow.  There was a light air from the
westward; the stranger's courses were rising above the horizon in the
south-east, just clear of Hook Tower.  Could the _Coquille_ once got out
to sea, she might either by running before the wind round the
south-eastern point of Ireland, or by keeping close-hauled stand along
the southern coast towards Cape Clear.

"I confess that I am unwilling to part with you till the last moment,"
said Captain Thurot, "but my courtesy will not allow me to detain the
young lady and to expose her to the risk she would have to run.  I will
therefore give you my small boat, if you will take charge of her and
convey Miss Ferris and her father to the shore."

"With all my heart, and I am much obliged to you," exclaimed Captain
O'Brien.  "If you will order the boat to be lowered, I will get them up
on deck.  The sooner we are off the better; the tide is sweeping out of
the harbour, and we shall have a hard pull of it, at all events."

He hurried below, and conveyed the satisfactory intelligence to his
friends.  By the time that they were on deck the dinghy was alongside,
the courses were hauled up, and the men ahead ordered to cease pulling.
Captain O'Brien stepped into the boat; Mr and Miss Ferris descended the
accommodation ladder.  After a brief farewell to Captain Thurot, who
with his officers bowed them politely out of the ship, the dinghy shoved
off.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

ELLEN AND HER FATHER, WITH CAPTAIN O'BRIEN, WATCH THE CHAMPION AND
COQUILLE FROM PORTALA HEAD--THE FIGHT--THE SHIPS DISAPPEAR IN THE
DISTANCE--RETURN TO WATERFORD--NEWS OF THE CAPTURE OF O'HARRALL--ELLEN'S
ANXIETIES--GERALD SENT TO MRS. MASSEY--DURING THE WIDOW'S ABSENCE OWEN
RECEIVES A VISIT FROM O'HARRALL--CONCEALS HIM--THE PURSUERS COME TO THE
COTTAGE--THE WIDOW'S ALARM--OWEN ENABLES O'HARRALL TO ESCAPE.

The worthy captain had not handled a pair of oars for many a year, but
he seized the sculls and pulled away lustily towards the western side of
the harbour.  As to rowing up it against the strong tide then running
out, that, he saw, was hopeless, Mr Ferris being no oarsman.  The
_Coquille's_ sails were let fall, and the men in the boats giving way,
she in a short time was clear of the harbour, and was seen to stand
close-hauled towards the south-west, the tide being in her favour.  The
stranger had by this time made her out, and was steering on the opposite
tack towards the harbour's mouth.  Being far to leeward, there appeared
but little chance, unless the breeze should freshen, of the two ships
meeting.

"I only hope they may," said the captain, as he tugged away at the oars.
"Thurot is a fine fellow, no doubt about that; but he deserves to be
punished for his impudence, and if the _Champion_ gets alongside him,
he'll find that he's caught a Tartar.  Olding isn't the man to part
company with an enemy till she strikes, or one or the other goes to the
bottom.  His officers are like him, I hear, and I shouldn't be
astonished to see the _Coquille_ brought in a prize before many hours
are over."

Ellen looked pale and anxious while the captain was speaking.

"We knew Mr Foley, the second lieutenant of the _Champion_, very well
in Dublin, when she lay at Kingstown," observed Mr Ferris--"a fine
young fellow.  I am sure also that you have described Captain Olding
truly."

The captain was all the time pulling away with might and main, now
looking ahead to judge of the direction to take, and now watching the
two ships.

"Thurot hasn't calculated on getting becalmed under the land; if he does
that, he'll find the _Champion_ soon walk up to him," he observed.
"Pulling is harder work than I thought for, or my arms have grown
stiffer than they used to be.  The sooner we can get on shore the
better, and we can wait there till the tide turns, when perhaps we shall
find some hooker running up to Waterford which will take us in tow.
I'll pull in for Portala Bay, which you see just inside Red Head."

"As you please," said Mr Ferris.  "By climbing to the top of the Head
we shall, I fancy, be able to watch the proceedings of the two ships."

The captain pulling on, the boat soon reached a small bay just to the
northward of a headland at the western side of the entrance of Waterford
harbour.  Ellen was eager at once to climb to the summit of the height.
The captain and Mr Ferris having drawn up the boat, they set off, and
were not long in gaining it.  From thence they could command a view of
the whole coast of Waterford as far as Youghal Bay, towards which the
_Coquille_ was standing.  Her boats had been hoisted up, but she was
still, even with a favourable tide, making but slow progress.  The ship
to the eastward had now come completely into view.  The captain took a
steady look at her.

"She is a sloop of war--I thought so from the first," he exclaimed, "and
from the cut of her canvas I have little doubt that she is English."

As he spoke, the stranger's ensign blew out from her peak.

"Yes, I knew I was right--she is the _Champion_, depend on it.  If the
breeze favours her, far as she is to leeward, she'll be up to Captain
Thurot before noon," he continued.  "If she once gets him within range
of her guns, she'll not let him go till he cries peccavi."

Ellen was seated on a rock which formed the highest part of the
headland.  Even under ordinary circumstances she would have watched the
two vessels with much interest, but the intensity of her feelings may be
supposed, as she thought of one who was on board the British ship; for
although the gallant lieutenant had not yet spoken, she fully believed
that he had given her his heart, and she could not avoid confessing to
herself that she had bestowed hers in return.  In a few short hours he
might be engaged in a deadly strife with a ship equal in size and the
number of her crew to the _Champion_; and though she could not doubt
that the British would come off victorious, yet she well knew the risk
to which each of her gallant crew would be exposed.  The _Champion_ had
stood within a mile of the mouth of the harbour, when she tacked and
steered for the French ship.  The breeze, as Captain O'Brien had
foretold would be the case, gradually favouring her, enabled her to go
much faster through the water than the other.  The captain several times
pulled his watch, resembling a big turnip in size, out of his fob.

"The tide will soon be on the turn, and if we are to get home to-night
we must take advantage of it," he observed, "though I should mightily
like to see the end of this."

"Oh, do remain, I pray you," said Ellen; "we can have no difficulty in
getting back to Waterford, for the weather promises to be so fine.  Do
you think it possible that Monsieur Thurot can escape?"

"The chances are against him, Miss Ellen, but it is hard to say what may
happen," answered Captain O'Brien.  "Captain Olding is not the man, as I
have observed before, to let an enemy slip through his fingers; in less
than half an hour he will get near enough to the Frenchman to send his
shot on board, and he'll stick tightly to him, no fear of that."

Ellen held her breath, as she at length saw the ships approaching each
other.  A puff of white smoke issued from the starboard bow of the
_Champion_.  The _Coquille_ returned it from her stern-chasers, but the
shot fell harmlessly into the water.  Again and again the _Champion_
fired; it was evident that she could only bring her foremost gun to
bear, unless by keeping away and thereby losing ground.

"Thurot knows the coast as well as, or better than, Olding, and is
unwilling to lose the advantage of being to windward," exclaimed Captain
O'Brien.  "See, he keeps his luff, and the _Champion_ is compelled to do
the same; I thought it would be so.  The _Champion_ is losing the
breeze, which has hitherto been in her favour, and if she doesn't manage
to wing the Frenchman, the fellow, who has evidently a fast pair of
heels, will slip by between her and the land.  See, she's not going to
let him do that.  Hurrah! she's kept away; there go her broadside guns.
They'll have told, I hope, with effect on the Frenchman.  No, by George!
every spar is standing," exclaimed the captain, as the smoke from the
_Champion's_ broadside cleared away.  She immediately again came to the
wind.  The ships were still too far apart for the shot to do much
damage; they both stood on for some time longer without firing, and were
now so greatly increasing their distance from Red Head that the three
spectators could but imperfectly discern what took place.  Again wreaths
of smoke circled above the side of the _Champion_, and flashes were seen
to issue from that of the _Coquille_, as, imitating the English ship,
she put up her helm and kept away across the bows of the latter.

"Thurot has made up his mind to run for it," cried the captain; "he's
squaring away his yards, and Olding's after him.  The Frenchman has no
stomach for a fight, that's very certain; those privateersmen prefer
plunder to glory.  If Olding doesn't ply him briskly with his guns, the
chase will get away after all.  I had hopes of seeing the _Coquille_
brought in here as a prize; we could then have afforded to forgive her
captain the trick he played us."

In vain the captain and his companions waited for any event to show them
which ship was likely to be the victor.  They were both at length hull
down, their masts and spars standing apparently uninjured.  Poor Ellen
had watched them with intense interest.  How long it might be before her
anxiety could be removed, she could not tell; that the _Champion_ would
be taken, she did not believe possible.  But, alas! many of those on
board might be killed or wounded; several days might pass before the
_Champion_ could come into Cork harbour.  With straining eyes she gazed
towards the two ships gradually become less and less distinct.

"Come, Ferris--come, Miss Ellen, my dear--we must be on our homeward
voyage, or our friends will become alarmed, and it will be reported that
we have been carried off by the Frenchman," said Captain O'Brien.

Very unwillingly Ellen left the height and accompanied her father and
the captain to the boat.  He had still some distance to pull, though he
kept a look-out for a larger boat or a sailing hooker on her way up to
Waterford.  At length a little high-sterned craft was seen standing out
of one of the many small bays which indent the western shore of the
harbour.  The captain stood up, and shouted and waved, and the hooker,
hauling her wind, hove to to await their coming.  The skipper, knowing
he should be amply recompensed, was delighted to receive them on board
and to take their boat in tow; and Ellen, seated on a sail, was wafted
up the river in a very different style to that of Cleopatra in her
barge, as far as the mouth of the Suir; when, the wind failing, Captain
O'Brien, with the assistance of one of the crew of the hooker, pulled up
the remainder of the distance to Waterford in the _Coquille's_ dinghy.

It was late in the evening.  As they approached the quay they were
warmly cheered by a number of the townspeople who had heard of their
adventure, information of the departure of the French privateer having
already been brought up to Waterford.  It was soon evident to Mr Ferris
that some other event of importance had occurred.

"What has happened, my friends?" he inquired.

"Shure, yer honour, one of the French officers has been caught hiding
away in your garden," answered Dan Connor, who was one of the nearest to
him among the crowd.  "The thief of the world! he made a mighty fine
fight of it; but we ran in on him, after he had cut down three or four
of us, two being kilt entirely--but we knocked his sword out of his hand
and seized him, and he's lodged comfortably in the Ring Tower, out of
which he isn't likely to get in a hurry."

"Of which French officer do you speak?" asked Mr Ferris; "we left our
late prisoner on board the _Coquille_."

"It wasn't him, yer honour, but a big fellow with, a patch on his cheek
and another over his eye," answered Dan.  "He isn't a Frenchman at all
at all, but from the oaths he swore he's Irish all the world over--the
thunderin' big villain--no other than Brian O'Harrall, who has a price
on his head.  It cost us pretty dear to take him too."

Further inquiries convinced Mr Ferris that the supposed French officer
was the outlaw who had so long evaded the grasp of justice.  The
prisoner, he understood, was under a strong guard.  Ellen being much
fatigued, he accompanied her home before going to ascertain particulars.
Norah, who greeted her affectionately, looked pale and agitated.

"I have had a dreadful fright," she said.  "My father had insisted on my
taking a turn in the garden, and as I reached the rocky walk at the end
of the terrace, out of sight of the house, who should appear before me
but the first lieutenant of the privateer, who had dined with us
yesterday.  I had then an undefined suspicion of him, and no sooner did
he speak than I was convinced that he was the very person whom we met
the other evening, and who attempted to carry me off, and who,
notwithstanding his disguise, was, I am sure, the man who was picked up
at sea by the _Ouzel Galley_, and acted as second mate on board her.  I
knew that I had had the misfortune to excite his admiration, but I hoped
when he was taken on board the privateer which captured us that I should
never again see him.  He, however, it appears, was well known to Captain
Thurot, who had appointed him his first lieutenant.  He made the most
outrageous professions of affection; I, of course, would not listen to
him; and dreading his violence, before he was aware of what I was about
to do, I darted from him and ran, faster than I had ever run before in
my life, towards the house.  He pursued, entreating me to stop and hear
what he had to say.  Feeling that he was not to be trusted, I continued
my flight, and providentially just then caught sight of Dan Connor and
some of the crew of the _Ouzel Galley_, who had come up to see my
father, and while waiting to do so had been allowed to stroll into the
garden.  Several of the workmen and two of the gardeners, who happened
to be close at hand, joined the seamen, and the whole party rushed at
the stranger, who had by this time reached the bottom of the hill and
found retreat impossible.  On this, I understand, he drew his sword and
made a desperate defence, and though unhappily he wounded two of the
men, the rest boldly threw themselves upon him, and wrenching his sword
from his hand held him fast.  During his violent struggles to free
himself the patch over his eye fell off, as did his heavy moustache, and
some of the men, as they examined his features, recognised the pirate
O'Harrall, the very man of whom Mrs Massey gave you the account.  I had
rushed into my room, too much frightened and agitated to watch what was
taking place.  He was carried off to prison, and will of course be
brought to trial, in which case I fear that I shall have to appear as a
witness against him.  I was afraid for some time to tell my father, for
the same reason that I did not before inform him of the attack made on
us.  However, he now knows all that has happened, and he tells me that
he is well acquainted with O'Harrall's history, and believes him capable
of the most desperate acts of violence."

Ellen had forgotten her own anxiety in listening to Norah's recital.
She now described to her friend what had occurred, and the feeling which
had agitated her while watching the two ships.  Norah offered such
comfort as one young lady under the circumstances could give another.

"I have heard my father say that ships of war often meet and fire many
shot without doing each other any harm," she remarked; "and you know, my
dear Ellen, that even though some of the crew of the _Champion_ may be
killed or wounded, there is no especial reason that Lieutenant Foley
should be among the sufferers; and it is the lot of naval officers to be
constantly exposed to the risk of battle in war time."

"I know it too truly," replied Ellen; "but it was dreadful to see the
ship on board which I knew him to be sailing away to attack so renowned
and skilful a captain as Monsieur Thurot--then, to have to wait so long
for the issue of the battle."

"Perhaps we shall have tidings of the arrival of the _Champion_
to-morrow," remarked Norah; "and, from what you tell me, Monsieur Thurot
was more anxious to escape than, to fight."

"So I at first thought," said Ellen; "but I heard Captain O'Brien tell
my father that he suspected Thurot's object was to draw the English ship
away from the Irish coast, that should he come off victorious he might
have the better chance of securing his prize.  It was a relief to me to
hear Captain O'Brien say he did not for a moment believe that the
_Champion_ would be beaten; on the contrary, that it would be much more
likely that she would take the _Coquille_.  Still, there must inevitably
have been a fierce battle; and oh, Norah, if you knew how I feel for
Norman Foley, you would understand my anxiety."

"I can fully understand it," said Norah, "and I often think how sad it
must be for poor women left at home, to know that those they love are
exposed to dangers and hardships of all sorts which they are utterly
powerless to relieve.  Such must be the lot of all sailors' wives and
those who have engaged their hearts to sailors--and yet it would be
cruel to the poor men if on that account they could get no one to love
them."

"Yes, indeed," said Ellen, sighing; "but then, remember, we can pray for
them, and we can do our best to make them happy when they return home."

Norah at length persuaded Ellen, who had had but little rest on the
previous night, to lie down and try to forget her anxiety in sleep.
Soon afterwards Gerald came in.  He had been rather indignant at not
having been taken when the party visited the supposed Jersey privateer.

"Had I seen Monsieur Thurot, I should have recognised him at once, for I
marked him well when he came on board the _Ouzel Galley_; and I suspect,
too, I should have detected his first lieutenant, in spite of his
disguise," he exclaimed.  "I wonder you did not find out that he was our
mate Carnegan."

"I did more than once fancy that I knew his voice, but it seemed so
improbable that he should be on board a Jersey privateer that I banished
the idea," answered Norah.  "Now, Gerald, I want you to go and inquire
after Mrs Massey and Owen; they may hear rumours of what has occurred,
and will wish to know the truth.  You will have time to go there and be
back again before dark."

Gerald, who was always good-natured and anxious to please Norah,
undertook to go and deliver any message, written or oral, she might wish
to send.  She had already a note prepared for Owen, and with it Gerald
set off.  He found Owen much better, and ready, if the doctor would let
him, to walk into Waterford to see Norah; but Mrs Massey was sure that
he overrated his strength, and told Gerald that Norah must not expect
him for some days.  She was much interested at hearing the account which
Gerald gave of the various occurrences of the last two days.

"And can that unhappy man have really been captured?  What a sad ending
to a once respected family!" she exclaimed.  "He cannot expect pardon.
I bear him no ill-will, though his family has been the ruin of ours; and
even now, in the hope that he may have time for repentance, I would
thankfully hear that he had escaped rather than suffer the death his
crimes deserve."

"I should certainly not have suspected that the Carnegan we had as
second mate on board the _Ouzel Galley_ could have been a murderer and
pirate," said Gerald.  "The men, however, were inclined to believe from
the way he was saved that he was in league with the Evil One, and they
will now be convinced that such was the case."

"Satan would rather have let him drown," said Mrs Massey, "unless
indeed he wished to employ him in some still more wicked deed.  He
undoubtedly mates use of those who willingly yield to him as his tools
to work out his designs."

While Mrs Massey had been talking to Gerald, Owen had been inditing an
answer to Norah's note, with which, rather later than he had intended,
Gerald set off to return home.  It was quite dark before he reached the
town.  He was proceeding along a narrow lane which offered a shorter cut
than the high road, when he heard the footsteps of a person running at
full speed, and directly afterwards a man rushed by him whose
countenance he could not see; but it struck him at the time that the
figure greatly resembled that of Carnegan, the second mate of the _Ouzel
Galley_.  He was doubtful for a moment whether he should follow: though
brave enough under ordinary circumstances, he felt pretty certain that
if such was the case O'Harrall would not scruple to knock him on the
head or to blow his brains out; and so he did the next best thing which
occurred to him--he ran on, intending to make his way to the Ring Tower
to give information that the prisoner had escaped; though he fully
expected to meet a party in hot pursuit of the fugitive.

Mrs Massey was at supper with her son, when there came a knock at the
door, and a bare-headed damsel appeared.

"Mrs Massey, my mother's taken mighty bad entirely, and will it plaze
ye to come and see what ye can do for her?" she exclaimed, in a
petitioning tone.  Mrs Massey, who was proud of the medical knowledge
she exercised for the benefit of her neighbours, immediately arose.

"Indeed, and I'll come, Molly," she answered.  "Just wait till I put on
my hood and fill my basket with such things as I may require."

She speedily getting ready, told Owen that she would soon be back, and
that Mrs Hogan would know that she could not leave him all alone for
any length of time; and off she set, with Molly Hogan carrying a lantern
before her.

Owen trimmed the lamp which burnt on the table, and sat down to read
till his mother's return.  He had not long been thus occupied, when
hearing the door open he looked up, expecting that Mrs Massey had
returned for something she had omitted to take with her.  Instead of his
mother, he saw standing before him the second mate of the _Ouzel
Galley_.  For a moment he thought that he must be dreaming.

"You know me, Owen Massey," exclaimed his visitor, "You saved my life
once, when the devil well-nigh had me in his clutches, and I come to
throw myself on your generosity--to ask you to render me a further
service.  Should I be recaptured, I should be doomed to the gallows, and
I have no fancy for that fate.  Conceal me for a few hours, and I shall
be able to get off in safety; refuse to do so, and I shall fall into the
hands of my pursuers."

Owen hesitated, not because he was aware that the man before him was
O'Harrall, the enemy of his family, but because he was unwilling to
expose his mother to the penalty of harbouring a fugitive from justice.
He rose from his seat and said, "I now know you to be Brian O'Harrall."
His visitor started, and drew back a pace, as if about to leave the
cottage, believing that all hope of assistance must be abandoned.
"Stay," continued Owen, his generous feelings getting the better of him,
"I do not on that account the less desire to save you if I can.  Should
you not have been traced here, I may yet be able to do so."

"I am not likely to have been traced, for my flight can scarcely yet
have been discovered," answered O'Harrall.  "You will run no risk, and I
will be grateful if I can find an opportunity.  I have proved that I am
not destitute of gratitude.  When on board the _Ouzel Galley_, I
obtained better terms for you from Thurot than you would otherwise have
enjoyed."

"Follow me, then," said Owen, "and I will conceal you till you have an
opportunity of escaping; but promise me that you will not again return
to this part of the country."

"I have no hesitation in doing that, for I intend to do my best to
escape from Ireland, never with my own free will to come back," answered
O'Harrall.

"That is sufficient," said Owen; and he led the way through the cottage
to an outbuilding at some short distance, over which there was a loft,
long disused.  Owen found a ladder, by which the fugitive mounted to it.

"You can easily leap to the ground when you think fit to continue your
flight," said Owen, who had followed him up.  "I will bring you some
food, to afford you support both for the present and on your journey;
and if you want money, I will supply you."

"I give you my thanks, but I have a purse full of gold.  Be quick,
however, with the food, or my pursuers may be here and prevent you from
bringing it to me," replied O'Harrall.

Owen on descending removed the ladder, and, hurrying into the pantry,
collected such provisions as he could most easily find, and for the
disappearance of which he could account the next day to his mother.  He
carried them to the fugitive, and then again replaced the ladder in the
spot from which he had taken it.  Having done this, he returned to the
sitting-room and threw himself into a chair, resting his head on his
hand.  He had performed a generous action, but still he questioned
himself whether it was a right one.  He was attempting to conceal from
justice an undoubted malefactor; it was an act then, as now, too common
in Ireland, and was sure to meet with the sympathy of the people should
it be discovered.  Owen possibly might have partaken somewhat in the
feeling general among all classes, that it was a right thing to protect
those in distress, whatever their crimes against society.  A more
generous motive had influenced him, and he might have been less inclined
to act as he had done should a person indifferent to him, and equally
criminal in the sight of the law, have thrown himself upon his mercy.
Owen did not know the full wrong O'Harrall had attempted to inflict upon
him; even had he been aware of this, it might not have altered his
conduct.

Some time passed before his mother returned; during it, he did his best
to calm his feelings, for he had determined not to tell her what had
occurred, hoping that before the next morning O'Harrall would have
disappeared.  Shortly after she entered the cottage the old lady urged
Owen to go to bed.

"You look somewhat pale, my son," she said, holding the light to his
face, "and late hours do not suit an invalid."

"When you set me the example, I will go and turn in," answered Owen,
laughing.  As he was speaking, loud shouts were heard, and several
people came running up and knocking loudly at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Mrs Massey.

"Shure, it's Pat Magragh.  Are ye safe inside, Mrs Massey, honey?"
inquired one of the men from the outside.

"And where else should I be?" answered the widow, recognising the voice
and going to the door.  Owen felt very uncomfortable, for he fully
expected that inquiries would be made for the fugitive.

"Shure, it's no matther at all, thin," exclaimed the man.  "As we got to
Molly Hogan's, she told us that ye'd just left the cottage, and it might
be the big villain we were hunting might have fallen in wid ye and done
ye harm; but if ye didn't see him, it's all right, and we must be
joining the rest of the bhoys who ran after him."

"Whom do you mean?" asked Mrs Massey.

"Brian O'Harrall, to be shure," was the answer; "he's broken out of the
Ring Tower, nobody knows how--except he got the help of the devil and
his imps."

"Thank Heaven I did not meet him! it would have well-nigh driven me out
of my wits," said the widow, trembling at the thoughts of the supposed
danger she had escaped.

"Good night, Mrs Massey; keep your door closed, lest he should turn
like a fox and bolt in," cried Pat Magragh, as he and his companions
hurried away in pursuit, as they believed, of the escaped criminal.
Mrs Massey did as she was advised, and sat down, endeavouring to calm
her agitation, and feeling but little inclined to go to bed.

"It is useless to sit up, mother," observed Owen, after Mrs Massey had
been talking for some time about the escape of O'Harrall.  "The man, if
he has got away, is certain not to return.  At all events, you will be
as safe in bed as anywhere else."

After some persuasion Mrs Massey consented to retire to bed, and after
listening for some time at last fell asleep.  The window of Owen's room
looked directly down upon the outbuilding in which the fugitive was
concealed.  Owen felt much relieved, from believing that those who had
gone on were not likely to think of examining the place; still, he could
not go to sleep, and putting out his candle he sat down at the window to
watch, hoping that O'Harrall would take the opportunity of slipping out
and getting off to a distance, no watched in vain.  After some hours he
heard the tramp of feet along the road and the voices of men shouting to
each other.  They were the people who had gone in chase of O'Harrall.
Could the outlaw have continued his flight and, after all, have been
captured?  Owen listened attentively, and felt convinced that they were
returning to the city without having overtaken the fugitive, he could no
longer restrain his wish to ascertain whether O'Harrall was still in the
loft, and cautiously descending the stair, he lighted a lantern and went
out.  To place the ladder so as to reach the trap was the work of a
moment.  He ascended to the loft, and throwing the light towards the
further end, he saw the man he came to look for sleeping soundly.

Before Owen had advanced a step O'Harrall awoke and, springing to his
feet, saw who it was.

"I came to tell you," said Owen, "that the men who had gone in pursuit
of you have, to the best of my belief, returned to the city, and now
would be a favourable time to make your escape."

O'Harrall hesitated.  "What o'clock is it?" he asked.

"Just past midnight," refilled Owen.

"Are you certain that the men who are hunting for me have returned to
the city?" asked O'Harrall.

"Judging from what I heard, and the direction in which their voices died
away, I am confident of it," said Owen.

"Then I will follow your advice," answered O'Harrall.  "You have
increased the debt of gratitude I owe you.  I have no means of showing
that I am grateful; but do me one favour more--accept this ring; it
belonged to your family.  It has a curious device on it, which is its
chief value.  I wish you to believe that, reckless as I am, I still
retain some of the feelings I possessed when you knew me in days gone
by.  Come, take it; I cannot leave this place till you have done so.
There, man, take the ring; it might have been yours by right."

Owen took the ring and placed it on his finger.

"If we ever again meet, however much changed you may be, I shall know
you by that," said O'Harrall.  "Now, farewell--may a happier fate be
yours than will probably be my lot!"

"Stay a moment, and I will ascertain that no one is near," said Owen, as
O'Harrall was about to descend the ladder.  He hid the lantern, and went
out into the open part of the garden and round to the front of the
house.  Clouds obscured the stars; not a sound was to be heard, except
the voice of some bird of night, which came from a distance.  By some it
might have been thought of ill omen, but Owen was above the
superstitions of the ignorant.  He returned to the outhouse, and in a
low voice called to O'Harrall, who immediately descended the ladder.

"I feel sure that no one is on the watch," said Owen, "and it may be
most prudent for you to get away at once."

"You are right," answered O'Harrall.  "Again farewell, Massey; though we
may never more see each other, I shall always remember that I have met
with one honest and generous man."

He did not, however, put out his hand, perhaps supposing that Massey
would consider himself contaminated by touching it.

"Go into your house," he continued, "and let me follow my own course,
that you may not even know what direction I have taken."

Owen did as he was advised, leaving O'Harrall standing beneath the
shelter of the buildings.  Closing the door he returned to his room,
when on looking out of his window, he found that O'Harrall had
disappeared.  His mind felt greatly relieved at the thought that he was
no longer harbouring a fugitive from justice.  On going into the garden
the next morning, he could perceive no traces by which it might
perchance be discovered that O'Harrall had been there, and he determined
that the occurrence should be known only to his mother and himself.  He
considered that it would be wrong to conceal it from her, and, sitting
down, he told her what he had done.  She did not speak for a minute or
more.

"You acted rightly, my son," she said at length.  "The O'Harralls have
been our bitter enemies, but our holy religion teaches us that we should
not only forgive our foes, but do good to those who most cruelly
ill-treat and abuse us; whatever man may say, God will approve of your
act, for he knows the motive which prompted you."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

ARRIVAL OF THE CHAMPION--MR. FERRIS GOES ON BOARD--BRINGS BACK
LIEUTENANT FOLEY WOUNDED--GERALD JOINS THE CHAMPION AS MIDSHIPMAN--AN
ACCOUNT OF HIS SHIPMATES--THE CHAMPION SAILS--CAPTAIN TRACY AND NORAH AT
HOME--THE OUZEL GALLEY PREPARING FOR SEA--RETURN OF THE CHAMPION--SAILS
AGAIN--OWEN APPOINTED TO THE COMMAND OF THE OUZEL GALLEY--MR. FERRIS AND
ELLEN GO TO DUBLIN--THE OUZEL GALLEY SAILS--NORAH'S LIFE AT HOME--MR.
FERRIS INTENDS TO GO TO JAMAICA--THE OUZEL GALLEY COMES BACK, AND
CAPTAIN TRACY RESOLVES TO GO ROUND IN HER TO DUBLIN.

"News, Norah!  I bring you news, Miss Ellen," cried Gerald, rushing into
the drawing-room where his sister and her friend were seated.  "I have
just heard that a man-of-war has brought up inside the harbour, with her
main-topmast gone and her sails riddled with shot.  They say that she is
the _Champion_, and that she has had a desperate action with a French
ship, which she sent to the bottom, or which got away from her.  Which
was the case, I can't exactly make out, but she has lost I don't know
how many officers and seamen, for there hasn't been such a bloody fight
since the war began.  The wounded, I hear, are to be sent on shore, and
we shall thus, I suppose, know all about the matter."

Ellen turned pale as Gerald was speaking.  "Have you heard who the
killed and wounded are?" she asked, in a trembling voice.

"No; I could only learn the name of the ship, and that there has been a
sharp action there can be no doubt," answered Gerald.

"Perhaps Gerald's account is exaggerated," remarked Norah, observing
Ellen's agitation.  "If the ship is the _Champion_, Mr Ferris is sure
to go down and visit her; he will ascertain the truth of the report."

"I must--I must go and tell him what has happened, in case he should not
have heard it," said Ellen, rising.  She found Mr Ferris in his
counting-house, on the ground-floor.  He immediately ordered his boat,
and telling Ellen that, should he find any wounded officers who might
require to be cared for on shore, he would bring them up, he desired her
to make preparations for their reception.  Gerald, who was on the
look-out for him, begged that he might accompany him on board.  The
boat, with six stout hands, rapidly made her way down the river.

Ellen and Norah, like good housewives, lost no time in seeing the spare
rooms got ready for their expected guests.  The occupation tended to
relieve Ellen's mind.

"Perhaps, after all, there may be no wounded officers," said Norah.
"Gerald's account was very vague--people nearly always exaggerate
disasters."

"But I saw the beginning of the battle, and heard the dreadful guns
firing--and some of those on board may have been killed," said Ellen,
scarcely able to restrain her feelings.

The young ladies had some time to wait after the rooms had been got
ready.  Ellen was constantly going to the window, from which she could
see the river and watch for the return of the boat.  Norah, like a
faithful friend, did not quit her.

"There comes the boat," exclaimed Ellen, at length.  "Oh, see, Norah!
there is a person wrapped up in blankets lying in the stern-sheets; my
heart told me that he would be wounded."

"It is better so than had your heart told you he would be killed, and it
had proved a true prophet," said Norah, smiling and trying to cheer up
her friend.  Ellen would have hurried down to the quay, but Norah
persuaded her to remain at home.  "He may not be Lieutenant Foley,
remember," observed Norah, quietly; "and if he is, you are more likely
to agitate him than to do him any good by rushing down to the quay.
Think how odd it would look were you to exhibit your feelings in public,
or, still more so, should the wounded man prove to be a stranger."

Norah's sensible remarks prevailed in inducing Ellen to remain quiet
till the arrival of the party in the boat.  Mr Ferris was the first
person who appeared.

"You must not be alarmed, my dear child," he said.  "There has been a
fierce engagement, in which two officers and several men were killed--"

"Oh, father, who were they?" cried Ellen.

"A master's mate and a midshipman," answered Mr Ferris; "but I am sorry
to say that Mr Foley was among the most severely wounded, and he gladly
accepted my offer to take him on shore; so I brought him up here, and
you and Norah will, I am sure, do your best to look after him."

While Mr Ferris was speaking, the men bearing the wounded lieutenant
arrived.  Ellen, restraining her feelings, received him with becoming
propriety, though his pale lips and wan cheek made her heart sink.  He
was forthwith conveyed to the room which, had been prepared for him.
Dr Roach, who had been an army surgeon, and knew well how to treat
gunshot wounds of every description, was immediately sent for, and the
young officer was placed under his charge.

"We'll pull him through, young lady," he observed, after he had visited
his patient.  "You will naturally wish to know what I think of the case
of this fine young officer, who has been bleeding for his country.  You
need be under no serious apprehensions; he will be fit for duty again
shortly.  You saw how quickly I doctored up Mr Massey, in whom, if I am
not wrongly informed, Miss Norah here takes an interest."

Norah looked conscious.  "Young people have hearts, and small blame to
them if they fall in love now and then," remarked the doctor; "and now,
my pretty maidens, good-bye to you, for I want to hear more about the
battle.  I could not let my patient tell me.  Remember, I leave him
under your charge, but I must lay an embargo on your tongues; talking,
or listening to talking, isn't good for wounded men, though you may sing
him to sleep with your sweet voices."

Owen was well enough to accompany Mrs Massey when she returned Norah's
visit, and, moreover, to stroll with her into the garden.  He now first
heard of O'Harrall's conduct; his brow flushed as she told him, but he
restrained his feelings, and did not let even her know that he had
assisted his rival's escape.

"Could the fellow have been aware that she was my betrothed wife, and
yet, after such conduct, ventured to claim my protection?  I am thankful
I did not then know of his behaviour; I might have been tempted to
refuse him my aid."  Such were the thoughts which passed through Owen's
mind.  "However, bold as he is, he is not likely again to appear in this
neighbourhood."

Owen and Norah, having each other's society, forgot how the time went
by, till Gerald came hurrying up to call them into the house.  He had
just returned from his visit to the _Champion_; he was full of what he
had heard of her engagement with the _Coquille_.  Two officers had been
killed, and two, besides Mr Foley, wounded; three men had been killed,
and several wounded.  The Frenchman, instead of being sent to the
bottom, having knocked away the _Champion's_ main-topmast and cut up her
rigging, had managed to get off and run out of sight before her damages
could be repaired.  Captain Olding had chased in the direction the
_Coquille_ had last been seen, but had failed to come up with her, and
was compelled to steer for Waterford.

"And, do you know, Norah," continued Gerald, "I've made up my mind to go
on board a man-of-war.  They all say that Captain Olding will take me,
and place me on the quarter-deck, if Mr Ferris introduces me and would
say a word in my favour; so if our father approves of it, I hope to go
at once, instead of waiting for the _Ouzel Galley_."

"If it would better promote your fortune to serve on board a man-of-war,
I will not hinder you," said Owen, as they walked towards the house.

"I would rather you should remain on board the dear old ship, to act as
Owen's mate," observed Norah; "but if our father allows you to go on
board the _Champion_, neither will I try to alter your determination."

Captain Olding had come up to the house to inquire after his lieutenant.
He and Captain Tracy had been shipmates in their younger days.  He was
well pleased, he said, to be able to forward the views of his friend's
son.  It was therefore settled that Gerald should join the _Champion_ at
once, and Norah was busy from morning till night in preparing his
outfit.  Captain Tracy was now able to get about, and even to
superintend the repairs of the _Ouzel Galley_.  He secretly was somewhat
proud of having a son belonging to the Royal Navy.  It was the road to
honour and fame; Gerald might some day become one of England's admirals.
Still, had the captain intended to continue at sea himself, he would
have wished to keep his boy with him, and he would also gladly have had
him accompany Owen Massey.  Gerald himself was in high glee; he made
frequent trips down to the _Champion_, and always came back with some
fresh account of what she had done, and of what his future messmates,
the midshipmen, fully expected she would do.  He described them to Norah
as first-rate, jolly fellows, up to all sorts of fun.

"And you may tell Miss Ferris, if you like," he added, "that they all
say there isn't a more gallant officer in the service than Lieutenant
Foley, and they hope that he'll soon get well and rejoin the ship.  They
don't speak quite so favourably of her first lieutenant, Jonah Tarwig,
who seems as if he had swallowed the mizen-royal-mast as he was looking
aloft one stormy night when the ship was taken aback and it was carried
away.  He is six feet two in height--how he manages to stow himself in
his berth it is hard to say, but it is supposed that he doubles his legs
back, for as to coiling away his body, that would be impossible.  The
master, old Billhook, is a rough diamond, but he understands navigation,
and spins tough yarns by the score; I'll tell you some of them one of
these days.  The purser, Simon Cheeseparings--that isn't his real name--
was a slopseller in Wapping, but outran his creditors and had to come to
sea to escape from Newgate; and the doctor's a Scotchman whose name
begins with Mac, and for brevity's sake Mac he is always called.  Now
you know all about the gun-room officers; but the best fellows, out and
out, are in our berth.  We've got two old mates, Beater and Crowhurst--
at least, they are old compared to the rest of us, and they are always
complaining that they are not port-admirals.  Their characters answer to
their names, for Beater is never without a cob in his hand, and he uses
it pretty freely; and Crowhurst is always boasting of his own mighty
deeds or those of his ancestors--and if you are to take his word for it,
they (his ancestors, I mean) came over with William the Conqueror, and
ought to be dukes at the least.  However, putting their peculiarities
aside, they're capital fellows, and, if they have an opportunity, will
show that they have the true metal in them--so my chum, Nat Kiddle,
says.  He doesn't pretend to be anybody, though I can tell you he's a
broth of a boy, and it's a pity he wasn't an Irishman, for he'd do
honour to the old country; but he happens to be the tenth son of an
English farmer, whose brother was a lieutenant in the navy, and took him
to sea, but his uncle having been killed at the end of the last war, Nat
has to shift for himself.  Though he has tumbled into a good many
scrapes, he has always managed to fall on his feet.  Then we've got a
young lord, Mountstephen; he is always called Molly, but he doesn't at
all mind, and declares that he'll some day show the Frenchmen what an
English Molly can do.  In reality, he is the pet of the mess--not
because he's a lord, but because he's a very nice little fellow, who
looks as if he ought to be in the nursery instead of knocking about in a
sloop of war.  But I don't know, Norah, whether you'll care to hear
about the rest of us."

"Oh yes," answered Norah; "I am very much interested, especially in the
little lord.  I hope you'll help to take care of him."

"Yes, that you may depend on it I will," said Gerald; "if I get into
scrapes, I'll take care he doesn't--though I don't intend to get into
any myself, notwithstanding that they say Irishmen always do.  They've
dubbed me Paddy already, but of course I'm proud of that, and shall
always stick up for old Ireland, and sing `Erin-go-bragh' on all
occasions.  Well, I'll tell you about the rest of our mess another day,
and something about the warrant officers.  We've three of them, the
gunner, boatswain, and carpenter--and as chance will have it, the first
is a Scotchman, the second an Englishman, and the third an Irishman; and
though they're mighty good friends, they are always wrangling about
their respective countries, each one declaring his own to be superior to
the others in every respect.  Barney O'Rourke hailed me at once as a
countryman, and was mighty pleased to see one young gentleman, at least,
from the Emerald Isle who would stick up for our country's honour.
`And, by my faith, that's what I intend to do,' I answered--and we
became sworn friends.  There now, Norah, I think you know a good deal
about our ship already, and when Lieutenant Foley gets about again,
which I hope he'll do in a few days, you will learn a good deal more;
and when we're away, you'll be able to fancy me on board among my
shipmates."

Norah sighed as she thought how soon her young brother, who had never
before been parted from her, would be away, with the chance of not
coming back for three or four years, for the _Champion_ had only lately
been commissioned, and might before long be sent to a foreign station.
At length Captain Olding, the _Champion_ being ready for sea, ordered
Gerald on board to perform, duty as a midshipman.  He intended, however,
to return in the course of two or three weeks, expecting by that time
that his second lieutenant would be sufficiently recovered to resume his
duties.  Norah accompanied her father and Owen down the river to wish
Gerald good-bye, and to see the ship sail.  She felt rather sad as the
boat shoved off, when the anchor was apeak and the white canvas let
fall, and the ship began to glide majestically away through the calm
waters of the harbour--for, besides that she grieved to part with her
young brother, the thought occurred to her that the _Ouzel Galley_ would
be the next ship she should see taking her departure from port.  Owen,
who was now able to be constantly with her, offered, not unsuccessfully,
all the consolation in his power.  Captain Tracy, being now well enough
to go about, removed with her to their own cottage, situated a short
distance from Waterford, and within a mile of Mrs Massey's abode.  It
was a pretty spot.  The cottage, with its porch covered with clematis
and eglantine, stood in a good garden in which the captain delighted to
work during his leisure hours.  From the windows could be seen the
broad, shining river and the shipping in the distance on one side, and
from the other the mountainous regions to the westward.  Altogether, no
young lady could have desired a more romantic bower.

The captain, by his successful voyages, had been able to save a
sufficient sum to live in comfort, with a handmaiden, Biddy O'Halloran,
to attend on him and his daughter, and a gessoon to look after the cows
and pigs and to work in the garden.  Still, notwithstanding her present
happiness, it was but natural that poor Norah should reflect that in a
short time Owen must sail away in command of the _Ouzel Galley_, and be
subject to all the dangers of the sea, increased in war time by the
chance of being captured by the enemy.  He and her father were now
absent all day long, attending to the fitting out of the ship, which was
making rapid progress.  Her owners had decided on sending her back to
the West Indies, and Owen assured Norah that, as he should probably find
a cargo waiting for him, he should not be long absent.  She paid
frequent visits to Ellen, who could heartily sympathise with her.
Lieutenant Foley had entirely recovered from his wound, and would have
to rejoin the _Champion_ as soon as she arrived in the harbour, in which
she was every day expected.  Norah thought that the lieutenant deserved
all the praises bestowed on him by Gerald, though of course he was not
equal, in her estimation, to Owen.  Still, she could not be surprised
that her friend had given him her heart, especially as he had owned that
he had given his to Ellen; and they were now regularly betrothed with
the full approval of Mr Ferris, and were to marry as soon as Mr Foley
had obtained the rank of commander.

The days and weeks went rapidly by.  Mr Ferris intended, as soon as
Lieutenant Foley had joined his ship, to return with his daughter to
Dublin.  This would be a great loss to Norah, as she was acquainted with
but few other young ladies in the neighbourhood; indeed, from having
been at school with Ellen, they were more like sisters than ordinary
friends.  Ellen had begged that she would visit her in Dublin, but she
could not leave her father, and still less did she wish to quit
Waterford till the _Ouzel Galley_ had sailed; after that, she felt that
she should have no spirit to enjoy the gay society of the metropolis,
even should her father insist on her accepting Ellen's invitation.

The arrival of the _Champion_ was announced at last by Gerald, who early
one morning rushed into the house.

"We came in last night, and are to sail again this evening, so I
obtained leave to run up to see you," cried Gerald.  "I've got lots to
tell you," he continued, after he had exchanged greetings with his
father and sister, and was seated at the breakfast-table.  "We haven't
had any actual fight, but we've taken several prizes, one of them, as
big as the _Champion_, cut out in gallant style.  She was seen at anchor
in Saint Martin's Roads, and the captain determined to have her.  We
stood away, and the Frenchman must have supposed we had gone; but at
night, when it was very dark, we stood back again.  Three boats were
then lowered, and I had the good luck to be sent in one of them.  We at
once pulled away for the roads with muffled oars.  There lay the ship
right ahead of us; we could just see her masts against the sky.  The
Frenchmen must have been all asleep, or keeping a very bad look-out, for
we were alongside and our fellows almost on her deck before we were
discovered.  The Frenchmen, thus taken by surprise, made but a very
feeble resistance, and though a few of them were knocked over, we didn't
lose a man.  The cable was cut and the topsails sheeted home before the
fort began to fire, and as the wind was off shore, we got out of range
with very little damage.  We earned our prize into Plymouth, and our
captain, I believe, gained some credit for his exploit; though except
that he designed it, he took no part, for old Tarwig commanded one boat,
and the master, Billhook, another, and one of our mates and I went in
the third.  Had half of us been killed, I suppose more would have been
thought of the affair.  While at Plymouth we heard from the bumboat
women, who have always the most correct intelligence, that we were to be
sent to the West Indies, and we soon found that they were right; but the
captain got leave to come in here first, to take Lieutenant Foley on
board, and to obtain fresh provisions; so I shall be visiting the old
scenes again, and, I hope, fall in with Owen.  That will be good fun;
perhaps we shall have to convoy him home, or maybe, should the _Ouzel
Galley_ fall into the hands of the enemy, retake the ship.  Faith,
shouldn't I be delighted."

"Oh, don't talk of such a dreadful thing!" exclaimed Norah.  "I hope
that you may have to convoy him home, and that we may see you both back
here in five or six months."

Gerald could stay but a very short time, as he had been ordered to
return on board with Lieutenant Foley.  Norah and Captain Tracy
accompanied him into Waterford.  They found the lieutenant ready to
start, and Norah remained with Ellen, who had just taken farewell of her
intended husband.  Owen, having joined the captain and Norah, went down
to the quay to see Gerald off.

"We shall meet, I hope, soon, Owen," said the young midshipman.  "I feel
half ashamed of myself for deserting you; but if you knew the life we
lead on board the _Champion_, you wouldn't be surprised at my preferring
her to the dear old _Galley_."

"The time may come when you may think differently.  But good-bye, my
lad; I hope you will enjoy yourself and come back safe," answered Owen,
as Gerald sprang on board.

The lieutenant gazed with eager eyes towards the windows of the large
house overlooking the river, where he could see a white handkerchief
waving to him.  Two or three more years might pass before he could again
press the hand lately clasped in his, and it was a hard matter for him
just then to keep up his spirits.  Soon after the boat returned on
board, the anchor was hove up, and the _Champion_, under all sail, stood
to the south-west.

In the evening Mr Ferris desired to see Owen.  "My partners and I have
given you charge of the _Ouzel Galley_, Captain Massey, and we trust
that you will be as devoted to our interests as your predecessor has
been," he said, giving Owen for the first time the title of captain.
"Having undergone a thorough refit, we hope that she will require no
fresh repairs for some time to come.  We intend to insure her among our
friends in Dublin, and they, knowing her good qualities and your careful
character, would be ready to underwrite her at a moderate premium
considering the war risk."

"You may rely on my taking the best care I possibly can of the ship,"
answered Owen, "and, as she has (I may say it without fear) a fair pair
of heels, on my keeping clear of every enemy I may sight."

"That is what we wish, Mr Massey," said Mr Ferris.  "We don't want men
who will run their noses into danger; and true courage and seamanship
will best be shown in your case by cleverly escaping from your foes.
You will get the ship ready for sea as soon as possible, and take your
cargo on board, and we will then send you further directions from
Dublin."

Owen took leave of his employer and returned home.  The next day Mr
Ferris, accompanied by Ellen, proceeded to Dublin.

Norah's day of trial came at length.  She ought not to have complained,
as she had enjoyed Owen's society for some months.  The _Ouzel Galley_
having shipped her cargo, chiefly of salt provisions, and other produce
of the fertile south of Ireland, hauled out into the stream.  Her old
captain, with Norah and Mrs Massey, went on board to bid farewell to
Owen, and proceeded down the river till she had crossed the bar, when
Captain Tracy took Owen by the hand.

"Heaven speed you, my boy!" he said.  "May He who guarded me through the
many dangers of the ocean take care of you, and bring you back in safety
to those who will ever give you a loving welcome!  And now, the shorter
you cut the parting with those two the better."

Mrs Massey saw that the time had come; she threw her amis round the
young captain's neck, and asked God again and again to protect him.
Then she let Norah take her place, while Captain Tracy helped her down
into the boat alongside, in which Owen soon afterwards placed Norah.
They had said their last words of farewell; Norah's had been whispered,
for her heart was too full to allow her to utter them aloud.  Captain
Tracy took his seat in the stern-sheets.  "Cast off!" he cried to the
bowman.  The boat dropped astern; Owen was seen standing aft and looking
over the taffrail; the pilot, who had still the command, ordered the
courses to be let fall, and the _Ouzel Galley_ glided onward.  As long
as the boat was in sight, there stood Owen gazing at Norah and his
mother, as again and again they waved.  More than once the old captain
turned round to take another look at the ship whose keel he had seen
laid, each timber and plank of which he had carefully watched as the
shipwrights had fixed them in their destined positions--that ship on the
deck of which he had stood when she glided into the water for the first
time, and which he had since navigated with watchful care on every
voyage she had made, amid rocks and shoals, and over many a league of
ocean.

Mrs Massey had consented to spend a few days with Norah.  Though her
own heart was heavy, she knew that she could console that of the young
girl, so unused to the trials of life; while the old captain himself,
she saw, required cheering, and thus in benefiting others she forgot her
own anxieties.  The captain had out his chart: he had marked the way the
wind blew, and knew to a nicety the rate at which the ship was sailing,
and could thus calculate from hour to hour the exact spot on which she
floated--always provided, as he observed, if the wind holds as it did
when she quitted port.

At length Mrs Massey returned home, and Norah settled down to her daily
occupations.  Norah was not free from some anxiety on her own account,
for she could not forget the attempt which had been made to carry her
off, or divest herself altogether of the fear that she might be
subjected to a similar outrage.  She therefore never ventured abroad
without her father's escort, while he at home ever kept his firearms
ready for her defence.  Still, as week after week went by, her hope that
O'Harrall had quitted the country, and that he would not again venture
to molest her, increased.  She heard occasionally from Ellen, though
letters were long in coming, and more than once the mail had been
stopped on the road and plundered--a too frequent occurrence to be
thought much of in those days.

Norah, notwithstanding her fears, was unmolested.  The captain had given
out that if any one should venture to run off with his daughter he would
not obtain a farthing of his property--a wise precaution, for it
probably prevented any of the squireens in the neighbourhood from making
the attempt--added to the fact, which was pretty generally known, that
she was engaged to marry Owen Massey.

Month after month went by.  Ellen at first wrote her word that she was
going much into society--more, indeed, than she liked--while she had an
abundance of occupation at home in attending to her father's household.
Latterly, from her letters, she appeared to be living a more quiet life
than at first.  She mentioned her father, who seemed to be much out of
spirits, though she could not divine the cause.  She again invited Norah
to come up to Dublin and help to cheer him up.

"You are a great favourite of his, you know," she wrote.  "He delights
in hearing you sing, and your merry laugh and conversation will do him
good."

But Norah could not be induced to leave her father; besides which, she
confessed to Ellen, she was looking forward in a short time to the
return of the _Ouzel Galley_, and she would be sorry if Owen should not
find her at home on his arrival.  Ellen, in reply, told her that the
_Ouzel Galley_, after calling at Waterford, would probably have to come
on to Dublin, and she continued--"And my father, finding it necessary to
go out to Jamaica, intends taking a passage in her; and I have
determined to obtain leave to accompany him.  I fear that he will object
to my doing so, on account of the danger to which I may be exposed; but,
you know, as I generally manage to have my own way, I hope to overcome
his objections.  The ship also will form one of a large fleet of
merchantmen under convoy of two or three men-of-war, and as the _Ouzel
Galley_ sails well, even should the convoy be attacked by the enemy, we
shall have every chance of getting off.  You must not be jealous of me,
my dear Norah; indeed, I heartily wish that your father could spare you
to bear me company; and I dare say that the young captain would wish the
same, did he know of the proposed plan.  Pray tell him of it when he
comes into Waterford, and I have an idea that he will join his
persuasions with mine."

This letter made Norah's heart beat quickly.  She was much surprised,
too, at hearing of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out to the West
Indies; but, much as she would have liked to accompany her friend, she
felt that it would be impossible to leave her father.

"I was afraid that things were not going on straight," observed Captain
Tracy, when she told him of the news she had received.  "However, Mr
Ferris is the man to set them to rights, and he'll do it; but I wish
that Miss Ellen, instead of going out with him, would come and stay
here.  She expects to meet the lieutenant, but he'll be here, there, and
everywhere, and she mayn't see him all the time she is there."

Norah, in reply, told Ellen what Captain Tracy had said; but Miss Ferris
had made up her mind to go if she could, and was not to be deterred from
her purpose.  One evening Norah was seated at the open window with her
work before her, while her father occupied his usual armchair, smoking
his pipe, when a rapid step was heard approaching the house.  Norah
uttered a cry of delight, and, hurrying to the door, the next moment was
in Owen Massey's arms.

"I am glad to see you back, my lad," cried the old captain, grasping his
hand; "you've made a quick voyage, and a prosperous one, I hope?"

"As prosperous as I could desire," answered Owen.  "We have had two or
three narrow escapes from the enemy's cruisers, but the _Ouzel Galley_
is in good trim, and never sailed better.  I heard in Waterford that I
am to proceed to Dublin," he continued; "so I paid my mother a visit,
and she bade me hurry on here.  I can remain but a short time, for I
must be on board again early to-morrow."

"We'll make the most of you, then, my lad," said Captain Tracy, "and
Norah looks as if she intended to do so."

She was the first to tell Owen of the intention of Mr Ferris to go out
in the _Ouzel Galley_ to Jamaica, and that Ellen had made up her mind to
accompany him.  "She has asked me to pay her a visit before she goes,"
she added, "and I should much like to do so could I leave my father, but
that I cannot do."

"Nor shall you, my girl, for I will go with you," said the captain, who
had overheard her remark.  "We'll go in the _Ouzel Galley_--to my mind
there's less danger at sea than from those land pirates, the
highwaymen--and if you can pack up your traps in time, we'll go aboard
to-morrow morning.  What say you, Owen?  Will you take us as
passengers?"

Owen expressed his pleasure at the proposal, and Norah had no doubt that
she could pack up in time.  Owen put aside all fears of capture by the
enemy; indeed, the Channel was so well guarded by British ships of war
that there was little danger, he thought, on that score.  He had too
much confidence in his own seamanship to think of shipwreck.  After all
arrangements had been made, he went back to spend the rest of the
evening with his mother, while Norah and the captain, with Biddy's help,
prepared for their departure.



CHAPTER NINE.

THE OUZEL GALLEY SAILS FOR DUBLIN--A STRANGE SAIL TO THE SOUTHWARD--
FOLLOWS THE OUZEL GALLEY--THE CHAMPION SENDS MR. FOLEY AND GERALD TO
PRESS SOME OF HER MEN--NORAH IN DUBLIN--MR. FOLEY AND GERALD IN COMMAND
OF A PRESSGANG--AN ADVENTURE ON THE LIBERTIES--A SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER
CAPTURED--PRESSED MEN CARRIED OFF--ELLEN AND MR. FERRIS SAIL IN THE
OUZEL GALLEY--CAPTAIN TRACY AND NORAH RETURN TO WATERFORD--THE OUZEL
GALLEY WITH THE CONVOY BOUND FOR THE WEST INDIES--SHARP ACTION WITH
FRENCH FRIGATES--THE ENEMY BEATEN OFF.

Norah and Captain Tracy were on board the _Ouzel Galley_ before noon the
next day, accompanied by Owen.  They had gone round to bid Mrs Massey
good-bye; it cost her much to part again so soon with her son, but she
was proud of seeing him captain of so fine a ship, and had learnt to
bear many trials with fortitude.

As the breeze blew up the harbour, the _Ouzel Galley_ had to beat out,
which, with a favourable tide, she succeeded in doing in a few tacks,
after which she had a fair wind for Dublin.  Dan, coming aft, hat in
hand, welcomed Miss Norah, and wished she was going to sail with them
the next voyage--Pompey, who presumed on long service with Captain
Massey, imitating his example, and making an appropriate speech.  Norah
thanked them, and, it is just possible, secretly wished that she was to
remain on board.

A bright look-out was kept for any sail which might heave in sight; for,
though Owen believed that there was no risk of encountering an enemy, it
was still possible that a French privateer might be on the watch to pick
up any merchant vessel which might come within her grasp.  The wind
fell, and the _Ouzel Galley_ made but little progress during the night.
Whatever others might have done, Norah did not complain; she was in no
hurry to have the trip over.  Dawn had just broken, when, as a mist
which had for some hours hung over the ocean began to clear away, a hand
who had been sent aloft shouted out, "A sail to the southward!"  Owen,
who was on deck, at once went to the mast-head to take a look at the
stranger.  She was a large ship under all sail, but the mist prevented
him from making out very clearly what she was.

"She is bringing up the breeze," observed Captain Massey, when he
returned on deck; "but as we shall probably get it before long, we may
keep ahead of her."

"We'll try our best to do that same," said the old captain; "it would be
hard to be trapped just as we are going into port."

"I should never forgive myself for having allowed you and Norah to come
on board," said Owen, feeling much more anxious than he would have done
had he been alone.

"Don't trouble yourself about that, lad," answered the captain; "she is
more likely to be a British ship than a Frenchman, and she hasn't got up
to us yet, nor will she, I trust, before we are safe in the Liffey.  I
shall be glad, however, when we get the breeze."

They had not long to wait before cat's-paws were seen playing over the
surface of the ocean.  The sails were trimmed, and the ship began to
glide through the water; faster and faster she moved, but the stranger
astern still gained on her.  Norah soon followed her father on deck, and
the rising sun shining on the white canvas of the ship astern revealed
her more clearly to view.

"Is that ship chasing us?" she asked, with a little trepidation in her
voice.

"She is following in our wake, but she may be a friend for all that,"
answered Owen, anxious not to alarm Norah.  "Should she prove to be a
foe, we'll do our best to keep ahead of her.  Fortunately, we have a
port to run for, and have every chance of gaining it before she comes up
with us.  See, we have the Wicklow mountains already in sight, and it
will not take us many hours to reach Dublin if the wind holds as it does
now."

"I quite agree with you, Owen; we have very little cause to fear, go
we'll go below and take our breakfasts with good appetite," said the
captain, the steward having just announced that the meal was ready.

On returning on deck they could perceive no change in the relative
position of the vessels; but as the day drew on the wind dropped, and
the stranger appeared to gain on them.  Still they made some way, and
could distinguish the Round Tower and ruined house on Dalkey Island, off
the Wicklow coast, when it fell perfectly calm, and though the Bay of
Dublin was almost in sight, they were unable to reach it.  The old
captain took many a glance through his spy-glass at the ship astern.

"She looks more like an English man-of-war than a Frenchman," he said to
Owen; "see what you make of her."

"I agree with you, sir," said Owen.  "She is standing after us simply
because she is bound to the same port, and if so, we need not trouble
ourselves further about her; anyway, we shall be safe at anchor before
long, and an enemy would scarcely venture into the bay to cut us out."

Still Owen, not being altogether free from anxiety, walked the deck the
greater part of the night, waiting for a breeze.  It came at length,
towards the end of the middle watch, and as before, astern.  He had lost
sight of the stranger during the hours of darkness, but when dawn broke,
as the _Ouzel Galley_ was off Kingstown, he saw her coming up rapidly
not a mile away.  With the increasing daylight he made her out, however,
to be undoubtedly a British man-of-war.

"No mistake as to that point," observed Captain Tracy, who joined him on
deck; "I thought so from the first."

What was their astonishment, therefore, when the corvette fired a gun
towards them.  The _Ouzel Galley_ still stood on, when the sound of
another gun came booming over the calm sea.

"It is the signal to us to heave to.  We must obey," said Owen; "though
they perhaps think that we are too strong-handed, and wish to press some
of our men."

"There's no help for it," observed the old captain; "better at the end
of a voyage than the beginning of one, as far as the owners are
concerned; but it is a cruel thing for the poor men to be carried away
from their families just as they are expecting to get home."

The yards were braced up, and the ship hove to.  In a short time the
corvette, getting abreast of her, lowered a boat and quickly pulled
alongside, with a lieutenant and midshipman in her.  As they sprang on
deck, the latter came running aft.

"Don't you know me, father?" he exclaimed, as he got up to Captain
Tracy.

"What, Gerald, my boy!  You've grown so tall and brown that, thinking
you away in the West Indies, I didn't till this moment," answered
Captain Tracy.

"But I thought it was he," cried Norah, as Gerald bestowed on her a
brotherly embrace.  He then shook hands with Owen, to whom Lieutenant
Foley, who was the other officer, had at first addressed himself; but,
seeing Norah, he advanced and paid his respects, inquiring for her
friend Miss Ferris.

"She is well, and about to sail for Jamaica on board this vessel,"
answered Norah.  "You will, if you land at Dublin, have an opportunity
of seeing her."

"I hope, then, that the _Ouzel Galley_ will form one of the next fleet
which we have received orders to convoy to the West Indies," said
Lieutenant Foley.  "Having been sent home with despatches, we landed at
Plymouth, and were on our way round here when we ran out of our course
in chase of a strange sail.  She, however, escaped us, and we are now
bound into Dublin Bay.  Are you going to remain on board?" he asked.

"I am afraid not," said Norah; "but I am sure that it will be
satisfactory to Mr Ferris to learn that your ship will convoy them.
Should I see them before you do, I will tell them so."

Thereon the lieutenant sent several messages to Ellen, which Norah
promised to deliver, as duty might possibly delay him from going on
shore.  He then turned to Owen.

"I was sent to press some of the hands out of your ship," he said, "but
if you are about again to sail, I feel authorised to take only those who
have not agreed to return with you; and I must beg you to muster your
crew."

Whatever might have been the intentions of the men, they one and all
agreed to re-enter for the next voyage on board the _Ouzel Galley_, and
Owen thus secured an experienced crew instead of the untried hands he
might afterwards have picked up.

"It is fortunate that you fell in with us instead of any other
man-of-war, or you would have lost your best hands," said Gerald; "and
we, I suspect, shall have to send pressgangs on shore to pick up all the
fellows we can find.  You had better give a hint to your men not to
trust themselves out of the ship, for all would be fish who come to our
net, they may depend on that."

Gerald had to return with Lieutenant Foley to the _Champion_, while the
_Ouzel Galley_, having taken a pilot on board, at once ran up the
harbour, when Norah and her father proceeded to Mr Ferris's.  The
arrival of the _Ouzel Galley_ was hailed with great satisfaction by Mr
Ferris; still more so was the news Norah gave Ellen, that the _Champion_
was one of the ships of war appointed to convoy the _Ouzel Galley_ and
the other merchant vessels to the West Indies.  All diligence was used
in discharging her cargo and taking a fresh one on board; and in shorter
time than usual, thanks to the assistance rendered by her old captain,
she was ready for sea.  Owen had the happiness of spending the evenings
with Norah, and Ellen was the better able to dispense with her society
as Lieutenant Foley managed frequently to get on shore, bringing Gerald
with him.  Their time, however, was not always passed so agreeably, as
they had on several occasions to take charge of the pressgangs sent on
shore to pick up men, and more than once they were engaged in pretty
severe encounters with the unwilling seamen whom it was their duty to
capture.

Mr Foley and the young midshipman were spending the evening at Mr
Ferris's, when they were summoned out.

"We must wish you good night," said the lieutenant to Ellen, returning;
"we have some duty to attend to, and shall afterwards have to go on
board our ship."

The ladies came into the hall, and were somewhat astonished at the garb
which the two officers quickly assumed.  Over their neat uniforms they
put on large Flushing trousers, thick coats of the same material
buttoned up to their throats, round which they tied large comforters,
while on their heads they wore weather-beaten sou'-westers.  A cutlass,
buckled on by a leathern belt in which a brace of pistols were stuck,
showed that they were about to proceed on an expedition in which rough
play might be expected.

"Where are you going?" asked Ellen, in some trepidation.

"Only to obtain a few loyal seamen to serve his Majesty," answered the
lieutenant.  "The fellows don't know their true interests, and may
perhaps offer some opposition; but don't be alarmed--we hope to be on
shore to-morrow to give a good account of ourselves."

The lieutenant and midshipman set off under the guidance of the
captain's coxswain, a Dublin man, who had come for them.  Proceeding to
a public-house on one of the lower quays, they found a dozen seamen
dressed and armed as they were.  The lieutenant having given them
directions, they followed him and his guide to that part of Dublin known
as the "Liberties," inhabited by the dregs of the population.  The night
was dark; no lamps illumined that part of the town.  The lantern carried
by Larry Flynn, the coxswain, enabled the party to thread their way
through several narrow streets till they reached a house, at the door of
which he stopped.

"This is it, yer honour," said Larry; "but we must be mighty quick, or
they'll be after escaping along the tiles."

On this he gave a gentle knock at the door.  "Hist!  Mother O'Flanigan,
open the door, or I'll be taken hold of by the watchmen," he whispered
through the keyhole, as he heard a step within.

"Who is it?" asked the voice.

"Shure, it's Dennis Donovan, whom ye'll be after knowing, I'm thinking;
but quick, quick, mother dear, or it'll be too late and I'll be caught."

As he spoke the bars were withdrawn, and the lock turned, and the old
woman, forgetting her usual caution, slowly opened the door.  On this
Larry sprang in, and before she had time to shriek out thrust a woollen
comforter into her mouth.

"Hold her fast, Bill!" he exclaimed to one of the men who had been
directed to guard the door, while the lieutenant and Gerald, with the
rest, rushed along a narrow passage, at the end of which another female,
a stout, sturdy-looking Amazon, appeared with a light in one hand and a
poker in the other.

"Who are ye, ye brutes?" she exclaimed, "coming to disturb a dacent
household at this time of night?  Shure, the childher are in bed, and
ye'll be waking them up and sending them into fits, the darlints."

"It's joking ye are, Misthress Milligan, for divil a child have ye got
in the house, barring a score of bhoys with big whiskers on their
faces," answered Larry; "so just keep a dacent tongue in your mouth, and
be quiet with that poker."

Mrs Milligan, finding that she was known, and as it would be useless to
deny that she had guests in the house, shrieked out at the top of her
voice, "Run, bhoys, run--the pressgang are on ye!" at the same time
attempting, with her formidable weapon, to prevent the seamen from
opening the door before which she stood.  Larry, however, dashing
forward, wrenched it from her hand, and giving her a shove which sent
her reeling into the arms of those behind him, burst open the door with
his cudgel; and, the harridan having been handed along to those in the
rear, the rest of the men followed him into the room.  It was an
apartment of some size.  At one end was a table covered with mugs, a jug
or two, and several bottles of large proportions, and surrounded by
benches; while at the other end were four beds, each with a couple of
occupants, who had endeavoured to conceal their features by the
coverlets.  Larry pointed to them, and he and his companions springing
forward and drawing off the coverlets, brought to view eight fully clad
seamen, who, offering no resistance, quietly submitted to their fate;
though sundry oaths and throats of vengeance showed that they believed
themselves to be the victims of treachery.

"There are more of them stowed away above," exclaimed Larry; and,
leaving the room, he sprang up a rickety stair.

"Who comes there?" cried a gruff voice from the top.  The speaker had
probably been aroused by the noises below.  "You'll pay dear for it,
whoever you are who attempt to interfere with me."

"Shure, Dick Rowan, your time has come at last to serve his Majesty,
threaten and bluster as you like," cried Larry, as he and the rest
continued their ascent.

"Take that!" cried the previous speaker, firing a pistol, the bullet
whistling near Larry's ear, but striking in the wall behind him.  Before
he could draw another, Larry and the lieutenant threw themselves upon
him, and in spite of his struggles dragged him downstairs.  His shouts
aroused several other men, who rushed out armed with bludgeons and
pistols.

"Come up here at your peril," cried one of them, who appeared at the
head of the stair, flourishing his bludgeon and holding a pistol in his
left hand.

"It's not such orders from the like of you we've a mind to obey," said
Larry, who having handed over the men just taken prisoners, was, with
the lieutenant and Gerald, about to ascend the steps.  Gerald was struck
by the voice, and as Larry threw the light of his lantern before him, he
recognised, as he believed, the features of Carnegan, the second mate of
the _Ouzel Galley_--or rather O'Harrall, as he has been better known to
the reader.

"Seize the ruffian," cried Gerald; "he is an escaped prisoner.  I know
him!"  He sprang up the steps as he spoke, Mr Foley, Larry, and several
of the men following.

"Take that for your knowledge, youngster," cried the man, firing his
pistol; and finding that it had missed Gerald's head, though by a hair's
breadth alone, he lifted his cudgel and would have effectually put an
end to his young assailant, had not Larry interposed his cutlass, and,
before the man could again raise his weapon, inflicted so severe a wound
that he was compelled to drop it.  The lieutenant and more seamen coming
up threw themselves on him, and in spite of several other people who had
come out, he also was secured.  The rest retreated into the room, but
were pursued before they could make their escape from the windows, which
they were attempting to do.  One fellow was hauled back just as he had
got outside, and in a short time every male inmate of the house was
captured.

Rapid as the pressgang had been in their movements, the alarm had been
given outside, and a mob was already collecting in the street, evidently
with the intention of rescuing the prisoners.  There was no time,
therefore, to be lost.  Mr Foley ordered his men to drag them out and
hurry them along, each of the pressgang holding a pistol to the head of
his prisoner.  Larry had taken charge of the man whom Gerald supposed to
be O'Harrall.  The ruffian at first waited along quietly enough, but by
the way he turned his head he was evidently on the watch for an
opportunity of escaping.

"If ye attempt to do it, a bullet will go through yer head, as shure as
ye're a living man," cried Larry, in a tone of voice which made the
prisoner feel certain that he would be as good as his word.  His escape
would have been the signal for the rest to attempt breaking loose.  Mr
Foley and Gerald, with two of the men who had no prisoners to guard,
brought up the rear, and had enough to do to keep the rapidly increasing
mob at bay.  It was mostly composed, however, of women and boys, who
shrieked and shouted, and hurled abuse on the heads of the pressgang.
By degrees, however, they were joined by several men carrying
shillelaghs, but the strict enforcement of the law against the
possession of firearms prevented the lower orders in the city from
having them.  Growing bolder as their numbers increased, and seeing that
the pressgang was about to escape from their own especial domain, they
made a furious attack on the rearguard, who could only keep them at bay
by a free use of their cutlasses, with which several of the assailants
were wounded.  At length the lesson the mob received made them hold
back, though they vented their rage in still louder execrations, howling
as an Irish mob alone can howl.

"Not very pleasant work this, Tracy," observed Mr Foley to the
midshipman.  "However, as we've got thus far, I hope that we may succeed
in conveying our prisoners to the boats."

"One of them, at all events, is likely to make further efforts to
escape," said Gerald.  "He is the very man, if I mistake not, who got
out of the King Tower at Waterford, and even if we carry him on board,
he is likely to prove a troublesome customer."

"We'll soon bring the most troublesome down to their proper bearings,"
answered the lieutenant.  "If he is a good seaman, he'll answer our
purpose."

"We haven't got him safe on board yet, sir, and if these fellows
gathering round us show any pluck, we shall have a hard matter to keep
him and the rest of the captured men," said Gerald, looking down the
street, the few lights in which dimly showed a mass of people rushing
forward, the shillelaghs of the men waving wildly above their heads.

"Go on ahead, Tracy, and urge Larry to move faster," said Mr Foley.
"Do you keep your eye on his prisoner and see that he doesn't escape."

Gerald obeyed the order, and the seamen did their best to drag forward
their captives by threats of blowing out their brains if they did not
keep their feet stirring.  Gerald was not mistaken as to the object of
the crowd, though they had apparently intended to attack the head of his
party; seeing them passing, they now came rushing on at greater speed
than before.

"Stand back," cried the lieutenant, "or we'll fire; it will be your own
fault if any of you are killed."

No regard, however, was paid to his threats.  Some of the more daring of
the crowd leaped forward, springing now on one side, now on the other,
under the idea of escaping the bullets which might be fired at them.
The lieutenant and his two men on this had begun to flourish their
cutlasses, which in such an affray would be of far more use than
pistols, and serve, as before, to keep their assailants from coming to
close quarters; still, as they retreated the mob advanced, and every
moment threatened to make a rush, when by their superior numbers they
must have succeeded in overwhelming the lieutenant and his men and
rescuing their prisoners.  At this juncture a loud hurrah was heard, and
a fresh body of seamen came hurrying along the street.  The mob no
sooner saw them than the greater number scampered off to a safe
distance, where they gave vent to their feelings by uttering the most
fearful howls and hurling maledictions on the heads of the pressgang;
but the prisoners must have seen that all hope of escape was gone, for
they now quietly submitted to their fate, and when they reached the quay
stepped, as ordered, into the boats.

The man whom Gerald supposed to be O'Harrall was put into his boat.  "We
have met before," said Gerald, after they had pulled some little way
down the river; "I wonder you don't know me."

"It must have been a long time ago, then, sir, for I haven't the
slightest recollection of ever having set eyes on you," answered the
man.

"What, were you never on board the _Ouzel Galley_?" asked Gerald.

"Never heard of her till a couple of days ago, when I saw her alongside
the quay," was the reply.

"What, don't you know the name of Carnegan?" said Gerald.

"I may know it--but it isn't my name," answered the man.

"Then perhaps it is O'Harrall," said Gerald.

The man started.  "How did you come to know that name?" he asked; adding
quickly, "But that isn't my name either.  If you want to know it,
Michael Dillon is my name; and since I am to have the ill luck to be
compelled to serve his Majesty afloat, I intend to show that it's one no
man need be ashamed of."

"It is very extraordinary," thought Gerald.  "This man's answers are so
straightforward that I suppose I must have been mistaken."  He did not
further question the prisoner.  The boats at length reached the ship,
and the captives were sent below under a guard.  Mr Foley, at Gerald's
suggestion, gave orders that Dillon especially should be strictly
watched, as should any of them leap overboard, they were sure to have
friends waiting in readiness to pick them up.

This was only one of several expeditions made by the pressgang on shore,
though none were so successful.  On each occasion they were hooted by
the mob; and not without reason, when husbands were torn from their
wives, fathers from their children--several of those taken being either
'long-shore men or not even sailors--but men were wanted, and Captain
Olding had been directed to get as many as he could pick up, to supply
the other ships expected shortly to form the convoy of the fleet of
merchantmen.  Two frigates arrived a few days after this, and orders
were issued to the merchant vessels to rendezvous in the bay.  Every
effort was made to get them ready, as those not prepared would probably
have to wait for many months before another convoy would sail.

Ellen, as might have been expected, had gained her object, and her
father had consented to her accompanying him on board the _Ouzel
Galley_.  It is as difficult to describe as to analyse the feelings with
which poor Norah parted with her.  She was sorry to lose her friend; she
felt a very natural jealousy of her--or, if it was not jealousy, she
would thankfully have changed places.  Still more gladly would she have
gone with her--though not for a moment did an unworthy doubt of her
friend, still less of Owen, enter into her mind.  But notwithstanding
this, even had the offer been made to her to go out with Ellen, she
would not have deserted her father.  When she and Captain Tracy stood on
the deck of the _Ouzel Galley_, as the stout ship sailed out of harbour,
she succeeded in maintaining her composure.  Not, indeed, till the
signal gun was fired for the fleet to get under way, and she and the
captain had taken their seats in the boat to return to the shore, did
she show any signs of the feelings which were agitating her.

"Cheer up, Norah," said the old captain; "we'll pray that they may have
a prosperous voyage and speedy return, and it won't be many months
before we see the _Ouzel Galley_ coming back trim as ever into Waterford
Harbour.  Owen will soon make his fortune with the favour of Mr Ferris;
he is a favourite captain, that is evident, and the house can put many a
chance in his way of turning an honest penny.  Perhaps after next voyage
the ship will be requiring another repair, and as Owen will then have to
remain for some time on shore, he may think fit to make you his wife,
and I'll not object if he has your consent.  I only wish Gerald were
with him; the lad's thrown a good chance away, but he was so bent on
joining the Royal Navy that I hadn't the heart to hinder him, though I
might have been wiser to do so."

Thus the old captain ran on, his remarks contributing not a little to
calm his daughter's feelings and to induce her to look forward hopefully
to the future.

After spending a few days more in Dublin, the captain being employed in
transacting some shipping business for the firm, he and Norah set off
for Waterford, where, in spite of his apprehensions of being attacked by
Rapparees, highwaymen, or abductors, they arrived in safety.

Meantime the _Ouzel Galley_, with about sixty other merchantmen
collected from Liverpool, Glasgow, and various Irish ports, set sail
down Channel, convoyed by the 32-gun frigates, _Thisbe_ and _Druid_, and
the _Champion_ corvette; "Old Blowhard," as he was called, captain of
the _Thisbe_, acting as commodore.  The _Champion_ had a busy time of it
whipping up the laggards and calling in the stragglers, who would, in
spite of orders to the contrary, steer their own course.  The _Ouzel
Galley_ was among the well-behaved of the fleet, always keeping her
proper position; and though she could have run well ahead of most of
them, Owen never failed to shorten sail when necessary, for which he was
complimented by Mr Ferris.  Perhaps Ellen might have preferred more
frequently seeing the _Champion_, which she soon learned to distinguish
from the rest of the fleet.  The _Druid_ was employed much as the
_Champion_; but Old Blowhard kept his proper position in the van, making
signals with his bunting or guns as occasion required.

The greater portion of the passage was accomplished without an enemy's
cruiser having been sighted; indeed, no small French squadron would have
ventured to approach the formidable-looking fleet, as many of the
merchantmen carried guns, and three or four of them would have been a
match for any frigate, or, at all events, would not have yielded without
a hard struggle.

Meantime Gerald, who was disposed under all circumstances to make
himself happy, thought the _Champion's_ employment very good fun,
notwithstanding the grumblings of old Beater and Crowhurst, who were
from morning till night abusing the slow-sailing "sugar-hogsheads," as
they designated the merchant craft.  He was only a little disappointed
at having no opportunity of paying his friend a visit on board the
_Ouzel Galley_--a feeling probably shared with him by the second
lieutenant.  The _Champion_ had been compelled to dispose of most of the
pressed men between the two frigates, retaining only a few to make up
her own complement.  Among them was the man captured in the Dublin
lodging-house, who had entered under the name of Michael Dillon.  When
Gerald came to see him oftener, the supposed likeness to Carnegan wore
off, though still there was a wonderful similarity in the voice and
manner.  Dillon soon showed himself to be a bold and active seaman, and
thereby gained the good opinion of the officers, though his behaviour
was generally surly, especially towards the English portion of the crew.
He took pains however, to ingratiate himself with the Irishmen, by
being always ready to do a good turn to any of them, very frequently
even sharing his grog with them--the highest mark of regard one seaman
can show to another.  Gerald, who naturally observed the man, fancied
that he looked at him with a suspicious eye, and was inclined to keep
out of his way; but at the same time he treated him, as he did the other
midshipmen, with the required amount of respect, though certainly not
with a particle more.

"You see, Tracy, I told you that Dillon and the rest of the pressed men
would soon be brought into order by the discipline of a man-of-war,"
observed Mr Foley one day to Gerald, who was in his watch.  "Blustering
fellows, such as he appeared, become in a few weeks perfectly
lamb-like."

"I wouldn't trust him overmuch, sir, nevertheless," answered Gerald.
"From a remark the carpenter made to me the other day, he has formed no
favourable opinion of him.  He has several times found him talking in a
low voice to the men, as if he had some especial object in view, and Mr
O'Rourke thinks that, if he had an opportunity of doing mischief, he
would do it."

"I am not fond of hearing unfavourable reports of the men, and I
recommend you not to indulge in the habit of making them, unless
officially required so to do," said the lieutenant, rather annoyed at
Gerald's remarks.

"I had no intention of bringing them to you, sir," answered Gerald; "but
when you spoke of Dillon, I felt myself called on to say what I had
heard, especially as I have had suspicions of the man from the first.  I
indeed believed him to be a person we had on board the _Ouzel Galley_,
and who, it was afterwards discovered, had been guilty of an act of
piracy and murder."

"But if he is not the man you took him for, you should overcome your
prejudice," remarked the lieutenant.

"I try to do so, sir," said Gerald, "and I should have thought no more
about him if I hadn't heard remarks which aroused my former suspicions."

"I believe you are right, after all, Tracy," said Mr Foley; "we'll keep
an eye on the man, and not place him in a position where he can do any
harm."

This conversation took place when the convoy was about four or five
days' sail from the West Indies.

"The commodore is signalling, sir," cried young Lord Mountstephen, who
was acting as signal midshipman, "`A sail to the southward!--the
_Champion_ to chase and ascertain her character.'"

"Make the answering signal," said Mr Foley.  "Tracy, go and report to
the captain."

The wind was at this time about south-east.  The _Thisbe_ was in her
usual station to windward of the fleet and abeam of the leading vessel,
and the fleet with flowing sheets was steering to the westward.  The
_Champion_, hauling her wind, stood out from among them.

"The commodore suspects the stranger to be an enemy," observed the
commander to Mr Foley.  A look-out with sharp eyes was sent aloft, to
report as soon as the sail indicated by the frigate should appear in
sight.  She was before long seen, and was evidently a large ship
standing to the north-west, a course which would bring her up to the
convoy.

"We must have a nearer look at her," said the commander; "she is more
probably a friend than an enemy."

"Two other sail," cried the look-out from aloft, "following in the wake
of the first."

Still the corvette, according to orders, stood on.  As she approached
the stranger, the commander changed his opinion.

"They are Frenchmen," he observed to his first lieutenant; "we'll keep
away and run back to the commodore.  If, as I suspect, all three are
frigates, or perhaps larger craft, we shall have to bring them to action
and allow the convoy to escape."

The announcement caused considerable excitement on board.  "We shall
probably be in action before the day is out," cried Gerald, as he went
into the midshipmen's berth, "and have pretty hot work, too, if the
Frenchmen show any pluck."

"The best news I've heard for many a day," said old Crowhurst.
"Notwithstanding all I've done for my country, it's the only chance I
have of getting promoted."

"I don't see how that's to be," said Gerald; "mates are not often
mentioned in despatches."

"But if a happy shot were to knock either of our superiors on the head,
I should obtain the rank I merit," replied the mate.  "For that matter,
I've seen service enough and done deeds sufficient to deserve being made
a commander or post-captain."

"Long life to you, Captain Crowhurst!" exclaimed Gerald.  "If I was a
Lord of the Admiralty I'd promote you to-day and superannuate you
to-morrow.  I don't suppose the service would be greatly the loser."

"That youngster requires a cobbing," said Beater, who perceived what the
other did not, that Gerald was laughing at him; and he pulled out his
cob, prepared to inflict condign punishment.

"Now don't, till the action's over," said Gerald, getting ready to make
his exit from the berth; "then, if the enemy's shot hasn't taken either
of our heads off, you'll be welcome to do what you like--if you can
catch me--and I don't intend that you should do that same just now;" and
Gerald sprang through the doorway out of reach of the irate old mate.
The other members of the berth talked over the probabilities of the
expected fight.  One and all were ready enough for it, especially two or
three who had never yet seen a shot fired in anger; they having but
little conception of what the result of a hard-fought action would be,
even should they prove victorious.

As soon as the _Champion_ got within signalling distance of the
commodore, Captain Olding reported three sail of the enemy in sight.

On this the _Thisbe_ hoisted a signal to the _Druid_ to join her, while
the merchant vessels were directed to keep together and to stand on as
they were steering.  The three men-of-war now hauled up a little, the
sooner to meet the enemy, the _Champion_ being to windward of the
frigates.

"Old Blowhard expects that the enemy will take us for the advanced
frigates of a large fleet, and will probably think it wiser to keep out
of our way than to come nearer," observed Captain Olding to his first
lieutenant, "Though we should beat them, we should gain but little by an
action."

"I agree with you, sir.  I never fancied fighting for barren glory, I
confess," said Mr Tarwig; "and as our first duty is to defend our
convoy, I conclude that the commodore will be satisfied if we can beat
off the enemy."

"We may hope to do that, even though the _Champion_ will be somewhat
overmatched; but I can trust to the ship's company to do their duty,"
said the captain, in a firm tone.  "Clear the ship for action, Mr
Tarwig."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the first lieutenant, giving the necessary
orders.  Lieutenant Foley and the other officers set about carrying them
out with alacrity.  He was glad to be actively employed, for many
anxious thoughts oppressed his mind.  He could not conceal from himself
the fearful odds to which they were exposed, and what might possibly be
the issue of the approaching conflict.  One of the enemy was certainly
greatly superior in force to the _Champion_, and the other two French
ships might be much larger than the _Thisbe_ and _Druid_.  Even should
their own ships be disabled, though not captured, many of the merchant
fleet might fall a prey to the Frenchmen, and the _Ouzel Galley_ might
possibly be among the number.  What then would be the fate of Ellen and
her father?  It was of the greatest importance to Mr Ferris to reach
Jamaica without delay, and instead of that he might very likely be
carried to France, or detained as a prisoner in one of the French West
India islands; while Ellen must be exposed to much annoyance and
suffering.  He himself had no coward fears for his own life; but he knew
full well, should he fall, the grief and anguish it would cause her.

All such thoughts were, however, put to flight as the two squadrons
approached each other, the _Thisbe_ leading and the _Champion_,
according to orders received from the commodore, bringing up the rear.
Old Blowhard's object was to disable one of the French frigates before
he attacked the other two, so that she might become a more equal
antagonist for the _Champion_.  As the squadrons approached, it was seen
that each of the French frigates carried more guns than the _Thisbe_ and
_Druid_, and nearly twice as many as the _Champion_.  Old Blowhard,
however, nothing daunted, stood on, firm to his purpose of attacking the
enemy and leaving the convoy time to escape.  The leading French frigate
was a considerable way ahead of her consorts; on seeing the determined
bearing of the English, she shortened sail, while they spread all the
canvas they could to come up with her--the _Thisbe_ carrying all she
could set, in order to attack her before they could accomplish their
object.  Just as the _Thisbe_ brought the enemy on her lee bow, the
commodore threw out a signal to the _Druid_ to keep away and to rake the
French frigate, while he poured his whole broadside into her.  He also
ordered the _Champion_ to imitate his example, and then to come about
and fire her larboard broadside.  The French captain might, of course,
defeat these various manoeuvres by either keeping away or hauling his
wind.

Every person on board was watching anxiously to see what he would do.
No moments in a seaman's life are so intensely exciting as those when,
before a shot is fired, his ship is standing into action.  The wind was
moderate, the sky of a cerulean hue, and the sea tolerably calm, the
rays of the sun glittering on the snowy crests of the waves.  The
looked-for moment at length arrived.  The _Thisbe's_ foremost gun broke
the deep silence which had hitherto reigned over the ocean.  It was
rapidly followed by her broadside guns, to which the Frenchman replied
with spirit.  The _Druid_, suddenly putting up her helm, fired the whole
of her larboard broadside into the Frenchman's bows, then again luffing
up in time to fire her starboard guns, trained well aft, before the
_Champion_ got into a position by which she might suffer from their
shot.  The corvette now stood in to action, running so close to her
large antagonist that their respective yardarms almost touched, most of
the shot from the French frigate's upper deck going harmlessly over her,
though she suffered considerably from those of the main-deck.  Her
rigging, however, escaping much damage, she was able to haul her wind
and come about.  Notwithstanding the severe punishment she was
receiving, the French frigate gave no signs of surrendering.

"We can tackle her now, I think, by ourselves," observed Captain Olding
to his first lieutenant.  The commodore, however, had no intention of
allowing his small consort to do that.  His first broadside had cut away
many of the braces of the French ship, and severely wounded her
mainyard.  He now, consequently, having come about, was able to range up
on her starboard quarter directly after the _Champion_ had passed on.
Again pouring in his broadside, he shot away the French frigate's
mizen-mast, which came crashing down on deck.  Shouts rose from the
decks of the English ships as what had occurred was seen.  Both the
English frigates had now to engage the two Frenchmen--one following the
other, they were quickly exchanging broadsides.  The _Thisbe_ then
addressed herself especially to the second French frigate, while the
_Druid_ took the third in hand, the commodore ordering the _Champion_ to
continue her attack on the first till he could come to her assistance.

All three of the English ships had by this time lost a number of men,
though they had inflicted still greater damage on the French frigates.
Captain Olding fought the corvette bravely, manoeuvring to keep ahead of
his antagonist.  The great object had already been gained, the escape of
the merchant fleet, the topgallantsails of the rearmost vessels of which
had long since disappeared beneath the horizon.  Though the _Champion's_
rigging remained uninjured, with the exception of a brace or two cut
through, she had received some severe damages in her hull.  Three men
had been killed, and six, including her gunner, wounded.

"We are succeeding better than might have been expected, Tarwig,"
observed Captain Olding.  "If we can't make this fellow strike, we can
keep him from running away or joining his consorts.  See, there goes the
_Druid's_ mainmast, and there comes her foremast.  Blowhard must take
care not to have both the enemy on him at once, or he may fare no
better."

For a few minutes it was difficult to see what the four ships were
about, so close were they together, and enveloped in smoke; for the fall
of the English frigate's masts had encouraged the Frenchmen (whose fire
had somewhat slackened) to fresh exertions, and their fire was renewed
with greater vigour than before.  Lieutenant Foley turned his eye
towards them, for it was very evident that the corvette, unless she
could knock away another of her antagonist's masts, was not likely to
gain the victory.  He anxiously looked for the commodore's promised
assistance.  Presently, one of the combatants was seen issuing from the
smoke, followed closely by the other, and standing towards the corvette.
Unless she could make good her escape, her capture or destruction was
scarcely problematical.  The _Thisbe_ was following, firing her guns as
they could be brought to bear; but she could not arrive in time to save
the corvette.  Captain Olding had no intention of deserting his
consorts; he hauled up, therefore, to the southward in order to tack and
stand down towards the _Druid_.  He now saw that the hulls of the French
frigates were sorely battered.  One of them threw out signals, when
their leading frigate, coming round on the starboard tack, made all sail
to the northward, as did both the others, apparently having had enough
of fighting.  The commodore now signalled to the _Champion_ to stand
after the convoy, and he himself was soon afterwards seen following,
having sent a party of his hand on board the _Druid_ to assist her in
repairing damages.



CHAPTER TEN.

THE CHAMPION STEERS AFTER THE MERCHANTMEN--THE MERCHANTMEN SIGHTED--
SHOTS HEARD--TWO VESSELS SEEN ENGAGED--THE CHAMPION RUNS ALONGSIDE THE
OUZEL GALLEY--HER CREW DRIVES BACK THE PIRATES--SHE GOES IN CHASE OF THE
PIRATE--NORMAN AND GERALD LEFT ON BOARD THE OUZEL GALLEY--DAMAGES
REPAIRED--PROCEED ON TO JAMAICA--TWO FRESH FOES SIGHTED--THE CHAMPION
ENGAGES THEM--THE THISBE AND DRUID APPEAR--THE ENEMY FLIES--THE CONVOY
ENTERS PORT ROYAL HARBOUR--GERALD RETURNS ON BOARD THE CHAMPION--HIS
ANNOUNCEMENT DISAPPOINTS CROWHURST--LIEUTENANT FOLEY AT EAST MOUNT--
ELLEN AND HER FATHER GO TO BELLEVUE.

The _Champion_, under all sail, ran on to overtake the convoy and
announce the satisfactory intelligence that the enemy, severely
shattered, had been beaten off.  A look-out was kept from the mast-head,
but as yet no sail were in sight, and as the sun was sinking low, there
was no hope of coming up with them before dark.  Still, it was possible
that the corvette might do so before the next morning.  By that time
they would be approaching the Bahama or Windward Channel, a short way to
the southward of Saint Salvador, as the Spaniards called it, or Cat
Island, as it was named by the English buccaneers--the first land
belonging to America discovered by Columbus on his voyage in search of
the Indies.

"They are not likely to attempt running through the passage without
waiting for our convoy," observed the first lieutenant to Norman Foley.
"Besides the French, the Bahamas still swarm with picarooning rascals,
who are ever on the look-out for merchant craft, and would not scruple
to lay aboard any they fancy they can overcome."

"Even the most daring would scarcely venture, I hope, to attack a fleet
among which are so many armed vessels, well able either to defend
themselves or to retaliate on an intruder," answered Lieutenant Foley,
whose thoughts immediately flew to the _Ouzel Galley_.

"They would run the chance of getting off scot free in the confusion
their sudden appearance would make," said Mr Tarwig.  "There is no
exploit, however hazardous, they would not undertake with the chance of
obtaining a good booty.  I took part in the capture of several notorious
pirates a few years ago.  One fellow blew up his ship rather than
surrender, and all died hardened villains, as they had lived."

"The greater need for us to overtake our friends without delay,"
answered the second lieutenant, who shortly afterwards went forward to
take a look through his night-glass, in the hope of distinguishing some
of the lights which the merchant vessels had been directed to hang over
the sterns.  In vain, however, he swept the horizon with his telescope;
had the lights been there, he must have seen them.  The commander was
almost as anxious as the second lieutenant to overtake the fleet of
merchantmen, though he was influenced simply by the desire to do his
duty.  The watch below had turned in, but most of the officers kept the
deck; even old Crowhurst was continually on the forecastle in the hope
of seeing the looked-for lights.

"I fancied that they would have shortened sail and waited for our
coming," said Gerald.  "What can have induced them to run on?"

"The fear that the Frenchmen would thrash us and overtake them,"
answered old Beater; "they judge of us by themselves."

"There are as brave fellows in the merchant service as in the Royal
Navy," said Gerald, who was piqued at the old mate's remark.  "When I
was on board the _Ouzel Galley_, we held out as long as any ship of war
of similar force would have done.  Depend on it, had the merchant
vessels been allowed, they would have come to our assistance if we had
wanted them."

"A pretty pass we should have come to, to require their aid," exclaimed
Crowhurst, in a scornful tone.

"We may require it some day, and you'd be the first to shout for help,"
answered Gerald.  "I took a fancy to the navy, but I'm not going to
stand by and hear the merchant service abused."

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!  What dunghill have you got to the top of,
youngster?" cried the old mate.

"One from which I can crow as loud as you do," said Gerald--at which a
chuckle was heard from several of the men standing within earshot.
Crowhurst's anger was rising; he was considering what punishment he
should inflict on the audacious youngster, when the cry was heard of "A
light ahead!" and presently afterwards several others were seen.  There
could be little doubt, from their position, that they were shown by
merchant vessels, though the darkness prevented the vessels themselves
from being distinguished.  A sharp look-out was kept that the corvette
might not run foul of any stragglers who were neglecting to show their
lights.  Presently the sound of a shot was heard, followed by several
others coming up faintly against the wind.

"Those sounds come from the north-west," observed the master.

"One of the merchantmen on shore, I fear," said the commander.

"Those guns we hear are nearer to us than any land.  The leading vessels
are not up to Atwood Quay yet," answered the master.  "Depend on it,
some of the convoy are attacked and are defending themselves."

"Let us hope that they may do so successfully till we can get up to
assist them, and turn the tables on the Frenchmen," answered the
commander.

"Little doubt about our doing that," said the master.  "Judging by the
reports, the enemy's ship is not a heavy one--a brig or sloop at the
most--or she may be one of those picarooning craft often found cruising
in these seas."

The last remark was heard by Norman Foley, who had just then joined the
speakers.  An indefinite apprehension seized him that the _Ouzel Galley_
might be the vessel engaged, but from what Ellen had told him he felt
sure that Captain Massey, if attacked, would not yield as long as he
could keep his ship afloat.  The breeze, which had fallen light at
sundown, now freshened up, and the corvette made good way through the
water.  At length the rearmost merchantman was overtaken.  Commander
Olding hailed, and her master, in reply, gave her name.

"What do those guns mean?" asked Captain Olding.

"Can't say, sir," was the answer.

"Whereabouts in the fleet is the _Ouzel Galley_?" inquired Norman Foley.

"She was among the leading vessels at sundown, and to the northward of
most of them," answered the master.  Before any other questions could be
put or replies received, the _Champion_ glided by the slow-sailing
merchant ship.  Several other vessels were passed, generally too far off
for any exchange of words.  Now even the flashes of the guns could be
seen, and the exact position of the combatants observed.  They were but
a short distance from each other, one to the northward, hanging on the
quarter of the other.  The drum beat to quarters, and the watch below
came tumbling up on deck, hurrying to the guns.  It was impossible in
the darkness to distinguish the nationality of the two vessels, which
appeared to be about the same size.  Captain Olding, addressing the
crew, ordered them on no account to fire, lest they might injure a
friend instead of a foe.  As the _Champion_ stood on, he kept a sharp
watch through his telescope on the combatants, neither of which seemed
aware of his approach.  Presently the sternmost was seen to put down her
helm and lay the other aboard on the lee side.

"The sternmost fellow is an enemy, we may depend on that," observed the
captain; "we can't use our guns without the risk of injuring our
friends."

As the _Champion_ drew near, loud shouts and cries could be heard, and
the flashes of muskets and pistols seen.  It was evident that a fierce
combat was taking place; the boarders were called away ready for action.

"Shorten sail!" shouted the captain, "see the grappling-irons ready! up
with the helm!"

The next instant the two ships came in contact.  Norman Foley and Gerald
were the first to spring on board; the dreadful idea had taken hold of
both of them that the vessel attacked was the _Ouzel Galley_.  Of this,
the moment they reached her deck, they were convinced when they caught
sight of Owen Massey's figure, cutlass in hand, backed by Dan and
Pompey, combating with an overwhelming number of enemies, who appeared
already to have gained possession of the greater part of the ship.
Among those who formed the boarding-party was Dillon, who showed as much
alacrity as any one.  He was soon in the midst of the fight, attacking
the boarders of the other ship with desperate fury.  The leader of the
latter was dressed in a fantastic manner, to give ferocity to his
appearance.  He was soon crossing blades with Dillon.

"These fellows are pirates!" shouted Captain Olding.  "Cut them down;
give them no quarter--a reward for the man who gets hold of their
leader!"

Dillon and his antagonist had made several cuts at each other, which had
been parried with equal skill by both, when the pirate, hearing what
Captain Olding shouted out, sprang back apparently to regain his own
ship.  Dillon, instead of attempting to stop him, warded off a blow
aimed at him by another man, and thus enabled the pirate, with a
considerable number of his followers, to leap on board his own vessel.
The lashings which held her to the _Ouzel Galley_ were at the same
moment cut, and before the British seamen could follow she dropped from
alongside.  Her helm was then put up, and her head-sails filling, she
ran off before the wind.

Gerald grasped Owen's hand.  "Faith, you've had a narrow escape!" he
exclaimed.

"Indeed, we have," answered Owen; "and, I fear, have lost a large number
of our crew.  Had you not come up, we should every one of us been
killed."

"Where are Miss Ferris and her father?" asked Norman Foley, turning
round to Owen, whom he now recognised.

"They are safe, I trust, below, and will be glad to see you and hear
that they have no longer cause for apprehension," answered Owen.  "I
have too many duties on deck to go."

The lieutenant sprang below, just at the moment that Captain Olding
ordered the crew of the corvette to return on board and the
grappling-irons to be cast loose.

"We must chase the pirate and punish him for his audacity," he
exclaimed.

It was some time, however, before the order could be obeyed and the
corvette got clear of the merchantman.  Gerald had remained on board.
"I ought to tell Mr Foley, or he will be left with you," he said; and
he followed his lieutenant below.  Before he returned on deck the ships
were clear, and the corvette was making sail to go in chase of the
pirate.

Owen had persuaded Mr Ferris and Ellen to go into the hold, to which
they had been hurried when the first shot had been fired by the pirate.
Owen had for some time before been suspicious of the strange sail, which
he saw standing up on his starboard quarter, and, thinking that she was
very probably an enemy's privateer, was not taken altogether unprepared.
He had ordered his powder and shot to be brought on deck, and the guns
to be loaded and run out ready for action; when, therefore, a shot from
the stranger came flying close to his stern, he fired in return, and at
the same time making all sail, endeavoured to keep ahead of her.  She
now fired shot after shot from her foremost guns, and he had no longer
any doubt that she was an enemy which had borne down on the fleet,
hoping to pick up one or two of the merchant vessels and be off with
them before morning.

"The fellow has made a mistake in attacking us," observed Owen to his
first mate.  "His greediness tempted him to attack a big ship--he might
have succeeded had he run alongside some of the brigs astern."

Pompey, who had accompanied Mr Ferris and his daughter below, returned
to report that he had seen them safe in the hold.  "De gentlemen want to
come back and fight, but de young lady no let him--she cry so, and hold
his hand, and say he get kill; so at last he sit down and stay quiet,"
remarked Pompey.

"I am very glad to hear it," observed Owen; "he could be of no use in
working the guns, and it would be a sad thing to have him injured."

These remarks were made in the intervals of firing.  The enemy, however,
did not leave them long at rest; their shot soon began to tell with
fearful effect; several of the crew fell killed or wounded, and the
sails and rigging were much cut about.  Still Owen's men were staunch,
and stood manfully to their guns, running them in and out so rapidly,
and pointing them so well, that they inflicted as much damage as they
received; and by the way he manoeuvred his ship he kept the stranger at
a distance, and prevented her from running up alongside, which it was
evidently her intention to do.  She, however, it appeared, by possessing
a numerous crew, had an immense advantage in being able to repair her
damages far more rapidly than could the people of the _Ouzel Galley_
those their ship received.  At length, however, the rigging of his ship
was so much cut up that Owen could no longer manoeuvre her as he had
done, and the pirate, taking advantage of his condition, ran alongside
him.

"The enemy are about to board us!" cried Owen; "be ready to repel him--
they'll give no quarter!"

The crew, leaving their guns, seized the boarding pikes which had been
placed round the mainmast for their use, and, drawing their cutlasses,
stood prepared to defend their ship against the fearful odds opposed to
them.  So occupied had been the combatants that neither of them had
perceived the approach of another ship.  Uttering wild shouts and
shrieks, a number of dark forms were seen scrambling on board the _Ouzel
Galley_.  The moment they appeared they were attacked vigorously by her
crew, led on by Owen and his mates, and many were hurled into the sea or
driven back on board their own ship.  His success encouraged him to
attempt cutting his ship free from the enemy, but while he and his men
were thus engaged, a loud voice from the deck of his opponent was heard
shouting, "At them again, lads!  We mustn't be beaten in this way.  I'll
lead you; follow me!" and the next moment, another party of boarders
appearing, the crew of the _Ouzel Galley_ were compelled again to stand
on the defensive.  And now, in overwhelming numbers, the enemy came
leaping down on the deck, and Owen, with anguish, saw that his chance of
opposing them successfully was small indeed.  Still, like a brave man,
he determined to fight till the last, urging his mates and crow not to
yield as long as one remained alive.  At this juncture a loud crashing
sound was heard, and a large ship was seen gliding up on his larboard
side.  The hearty British cheer which greeted his ears assured him that
succour had arrived, and the next instant the crew of the _Champion_
came pouring on board.  The subsequent events have already been
narrated.

Norman Foley, on going below, soon made his way into the after hold,
where he found Miss Ferris and her father.  The crashing of the ships
together, the shouts and shrieks of the combatants, had greatly alarmed
them both.  Mr Ferris had been desirous of going on deck to ascertain
the state of affairs, and, indeed, had it not been for his daughter, he
would have taken a part in the fight.  He had done his utmost to calm
her terror, but believed that she had too much cause for it, and had
found it a difficult task.  On hearing Norman Foley approach, she was
seized with a not unnatural dread that some of the enemy had made their
way below; but on recognising him, forgetting in her joy the reserve she
generally exhibited, she sprang forward and threw herself into his arms.

"We are safe--we are safe, father!" she exclaimed; "and you, Norman,
have been the means of preserving us.  Oh, how we have been longing for
you!  We thought you were far away, and that that fearful ship would
capture us."

Norman, of course, expressed his happiness at having arrived in time to
save the _Ouzel Galley_ from the enemy, and in a few words explained
what had happened.

"You may now with safety come into the cabin," he said, "for the
pirate--such I suspect she is--will not again venture to fire.  I must
there, however, leave you, to return to the _Champion_, as we shall
certainly pursue the fellow and punish him for his audacity."

"We shall be glad to get out of this dark place," said Mr Ferris.  "Do
you help my daughter, and I will follow."

Just as Norman and Ellen were about to enter the cabin, Gerald appeared
to summon him on board the _Champion_.  After a hasty farewell, he
sprang on deck, just in time to see his ship separated from the _Ouzel
Galley_ and making sail in chase of the pirate.  Not, however, unhappy
at the occurrence, he returned to the cabin.

"I am very glad we shall have your assistance in getting the ship to
rights," said Mr Ferris, "for I fear she is sadly short-handed."

"Tracy and I will give all the aid we can.  I wish we had a few of the
_Champion's_ hands with us," answered the lieutenant.

"Tell me what to do and I will assist you," said Mr Ferris.

"Oh, then I too will come on deck--though I am afraid I cannot help you
much," exclaimed Ellen.

Her father would not have prevented her, but Norman begged that he would
be content to remain below.

"I regret to say that the deck of the ship presents a scene too dreadful
for Miss Ferris to contemplate; and the rigging has been so much cut
about that there is still danger from falling blocks or ropes--you might
at any moment meet with a serious accident."

Ellen was at length persuaded to retire to her cabin, Norman promising
not to leave the ship without coming to bid her farewell.  The deck of
the _Ouzel Galley_ did indeed present a fearful scene.  Several of the
pirates lay dead between the guns, while five of her own crew had been
killed, and many more badly wounded; every plank was slippery with gore,
the rigging hung in festoons, the sails were rent and full of holes.
Here and there the bulwarks appeared shattered by the shot, which had
also damaged the boats and caboose, the masts and spars.

As now and then other vessels of the fleet came passing by, inquiries
were made as to what had occurred.  "Attacked by a pirate--beaten
off--_Champion_ gone in chase," was the only answer Owen had time to
give.

"No thanks to those who, by clapping on more sail, might have come to
our aid, but did not," he could not help remarking to Mr Ferris.

The first thing to be done was to attend to the wounded, who were
carried to their berths, where Mr Ferris offered to assist in binding
up their hurts and watching them; the next was to heave the dead
overboard.  This sad office was quickly performed, as there was no time
for even the pretence of a service; the dead would not be the worse for
going without it, and the attention of the living was too much occupied
to listen to a word spoken.  Before committing the bodies of the pirates
to the deep, however, they were examined by the light of a lantern, to
be sure that no spark of life existed in them, and to ascertain to what
country they belonged.  Two were men of colour, and the others white
men, rough, savage-looking fellows; but it was difficult to decide as to
their nationality.

"It matters little what they were," said the second mate, who was
attending to that duty; "they were pirates, and have escaped the rope
they deserved--of that there's no doubt.  Heave them overboard."

Not a moment was to be lost in repairing damages.  All hands now set to
work to fish the masts and spars, and repair and splice the standing and
running rigging.  Scarcely had they commenced than day broke, and as the
light increased the _Champion_ could be seen in chase of their late
opponent, who was running under all sail to the north-west.

"That fellow is well acquainted with these seas, or he wouldn't be
steering as he now is.  Reefs and rocks abound in that direction, but he
knows his way among them, and intends, if he can, to lead his pursuer
into a scrape," observed Owen.

"Our master is too wide awake to be so caught," answered Gerald, "and
the chances are that the pirate escapes.  She must be a fast craft; for
see, she continues well ahead of our ship, if she isn't gaining on her."

A look-out was now kept for the two islands which are found on either
side of the Windward Passage--that known as Long Island being to the
west, Crooked Island to the east, both thickly surrounded with rocks and
reefs, so that it is necessary to avoid hugging the shores of either one
or the other.  Crooked Island was first sighted, on the larboard hand.
It being some time, however, before the _Ouzel Galley_ could again make
sail, the greater part of the fleet passed by her, though no one offered
to send assistance.  The _Champion_ could still be seen, hull down, but
the chase was lost sight of.  Norman Foley and Gerald were frequently
watching their ship through the glass.

"The fellow has escaped, after all," cried the former, as he handed the
telescope to Gerald; "our ship has kept away, and is steering for the
passage."

"Can the commander suppose that we were killed, that he doesn't come
back to inquire for us?" observe Gerald.

"I conclude that such must be the case," said the lieutenant.

"Then, sir, I suspect old Crowhurst will be bitterly disappointed when
he finds that he isn't to step into your shoes," said Gerald; "he'll
complain that he has lost another chance of getting promoted."

"I hope that he may obtain his promotion some other way," answered Mr
Foley, laughing.  "It is so commonly the wish of old mates, that
lieutenants should not find fault with them, as they don't wish us any
ill."

"I should think, sir, that that was the worst they could wish a man,"
said Gerald.

"Not at all, provided they don't take any steps to carry out their
wishes," answered the lieutenant.  "However, your messmate will not long
be allowed to indulge in his dream."

The _Ouzel Galley_ was now one of the last of the fleet, most of the
other vessels having passed her.  The corvette was seen making signals
to them to keep together; and now that they were so near their
destination, they were all eager to hurry on, in spite of the risk of
capture from any of the enemy's men-of-war or privateers which might be
lying in wait for them off the coasts of Cuba and Saint Domingo.  Mr
Foley had fully expected that by this time the _Thisbe_ and _Druid_
would have come up with them, but neither of the frigates had yet
appeared.  He took many an anxious glance astern; but the day drew on,
and yet they were not in sight.

"I wish we could see them," he observed to Owen; "for, though the
_Champion_ will give a good account of any ship of her own size, if more
than one of the enemy's cruisers were to get in among the fleet, some of
them would be pretty sure to be carried off, as all, I fear, would not
fight as well as you have done, Captain Massey."

"We must run the chance, sir; it won't do to be waiting for the
frigates, and we may hope to get into Port Royal without another brush,"
answered Owen.

By crowding on all the sail she could carry, the _Ouzel Galley_ soon got
again into the body of the fleet, which was now steering south in pretty
compact order.  When the next morning broke, the east end of Cuba was in
sight, while the _Champion_ was a short distance ahead, leading the
fleet.  A bright look-out was kept, but no strangers were seen.  Some
hours' run brought the north-west end of Hispaniola in view.  Ellen came
on deck to enjoy her first sight of West Indian scenery.  Lieutenant
Foley was, as may be supposed, very happy in her society, and was in no
hurry to make known his existence to his friends on board the
_Champion_.  He had as yet had no opportunity of signalling the
corvette; he therefore entertained the hope that he might be able to
remain on board till their arrival at Port Royal.

The fleet was about half-way across the broad bay of Gonaves, formed by
two headlands which stretch out on the western side of Hispaniola, when
two sail were seen standing out from the north-eastern corner.  They
were large ships, but whether friends or foes it was difficult to
determine.  Soon after they were discovered they spread more canvas.
This circumstance was suspicious; signals were made by the _Champion_
and some of the nearer ships, and she hauling her wind stood back
towards the strangers.  They, however, pressed on as before.  Mr Foley
and Gerald were now wishing that they were on board.

"If those are either French or Spaniards, the _Champion_ will have a
brush with them, sir; big as they are, she'll beat them off too,"
exclaimed Gerald.  "I wish we could go and help her.  What do you say,
Captain Massey?"

"That, with our diminished crew, we could be of no real assistance;
besides which, it is our duty to get into harbour as quickly as
possible," answered Owen.  "I am sure Lieutenant Foley will agree with
me."

"There is no doubt about it," said the lieutenant, who would have been
very unwilling, on Ellen's account, to run the ship into danger, even
had he not seen the folly of so doing.  The _Champion_ having placed
herself between the strangers and the fleet, again kept away.  She
apparently was satisfied that they were enemies, and too large to attack
with any hope of success.

"Captain Olding is doing his duty, as he always does," observed Norman
Foley to Owen; "in spite of the great disparity of force, he will do his
best to defend the convoy.  See, he is signalling; what does he say,
captain?"

Owen examined the signal-book.  "`Fleet to make all sail and steer for
Jamaica'--that is what we are doing, though, and few of the vessels can
carry more canvas than at present," he answered.

Some, however, were seen setting royals and studding-sails.  Every ship
in the fleet pressed forward over the calm blue waters with all the sail
she could carry.  The sight was a beautiful one, as the canvas shone in
the rays of the bright sun darting from a cloudless sky and Ellen
likened them to swans of snowy plumage gliding over some inland lake.
She felt less anxiety than did either Mr Foley or Owen, who saw more
clearly the danger to which the _Champion_ was exposed.  Already the
guns of the enemy were heard as they opened on their small antagonist,
while she returned them with her stern-chasers.

"By the way the enemy are firing, their aim is to wing the _Champion_,
and she'll then, they hope, become an easy prey," said the lieutenant to
Owen.  "They may be mistaken.  Captain Olding is not the man to strike
while he has a stick standing."

Some time more passed by.  The French gunnery may not have been very
good.  Still the _Champion_ sailed on, not a mast nor a spar knocked
away, though her canvas was riddled with shot.  Should she be disabled,
it was pretty evident that several of the merchantmen must be captured,
and that the _Ouzel Galley_, crippled as she was, would be among the
number.  The proceedings of the _Champion_ and the enemy were therefore
watched with intense anxiety.

"There goes her main-topmast," cried Owen, almost with a groan.

"I ought to be on board," said Lieutenant Foley.  "I must ask for one of
your boats, Captain Massey."

"You should be welcome, but not one of them can swim, nor could I spare
you any of my hands; so I am afraid, sir, you must be content to remain
on board the _Ouzel Galley_," answered Owen.  "Your presence could not
change the fate of the day, and you would be made a prisoner by the
French, instead of having a chance of escaping."

The fire of the enemy now became hotter than ever, when Gerald, who had
gone aloft, shouted, "Two ships in sight to the northward!"

"What are they like?" asked Owen.

"One looks to me as if one were under jury-masts; the other's all
ataunto," answered Gerald.

"I trust so," ejaculated Owen; "if so, they must be the _Thisbe_ and
_Druid_."

Lieutenant Foley immediately joined the midshipman at the mast-head,
carrying his spy-glass.  "I have no doubt that they are friends," he
shouted, after inspecting them narrowly; "the enemy have made them out,
and are signalling each other."

The eyes of many on board the merchant fleet were turned in the
direction of the two ships, which in a short time could be descried from
the deck.  Shouts arose from many a throat when the Frenchmen were seen,
having hauled to the wind, standing back up the bay; while the gallant
little _Champion_ continued her course after the convoy she had so
bravely defended.  The frigates, instead of following her, stood into
the bay in pursuit of the Frenchmen.  At nightfall, however, they were
again descried running out, having apparently either missed the vessels
they were in chase of, or found that the latter had got into harbour for
shelter.  The convoy now stood on till the end of Jamaica was rounded.

The following day, as soon as the sea breeze set in, the merchantmen
approached Port Royal harbour, the _Ouzel Galley_ being among the
leading vessels.  Ellen stood on the deck admiring the magnificent and,
to her, so novel scenery, with Norman by her side to point out its
varied features.  Stretching away east and west appeared lofty blue
mountains rising above a stratum of clouds which rolled along their
precipitous sides; in some directions the rugged hills were seen
furrowed by ravines, while in others steep cliffs descended abruptly to
the sea; in many places appeared the richest vegetation, covering the
sides of the slopes, and here and there patches of bright emerald green,
with the white residences of the managers just visible amid them.  At
length, right ahead could be seen the town of Port Royal, at the end of
a narrow spit of land known as the Palisades, composed of sand and
overgrown with mangroves, which sweeps round from the east and runs for
several miles directly west, the town being at the western end.  The new
town has risen above the ruins of its wealthy, iniquitous predecessor,
suddenly overwhelmed by an earthquake, and in a few seconds sunk many
fathoms deep beneath the ocean.  The spit forms a natural breakwater to
the magnificent harbour of Port Royal, or Kingston, capable of
containing in its spacious basin the fleets of all the world.  The
batteries of Port Royal completely command its entrance, aided by the
guns of Fort Augusta and the Rock Fort on the opposite side.  The _Ouzel
Galley_, as she ran in, passed close under the ramparts of Fort Charles,
thickly studded with heavy ordnance which would have effectually
prevented the entrance of a hostile fleet.  This passed, she stood on up
the extensive lagoon, towards the further end of which, on the northern
shore, could be seen the city of Kingston, a wide plain extending for a
considerable distance inland, backed by a series of irregular mountains
rising one beyond another, hills piled upon hills of various elevations,
with picturesque valleys, dark chasms, and numerous trees.  Far off, on
the top of the declivity on which the city stands, were visible the
barracks of Hope Park Camp, and nearer, on a still more conspicuous
spot, the well-known Admiral's Pen, the residence of the naval
commander-in-chief on the station.

The _Ouzel Galley_ and most of the merchantmen ran up the lagoon till
they came to an anchor off Kingston.  As the _Champion_ had not yet
entered the harbour, Lieutenant Foley undertook to escort Mr and Miss
Ferris on shore, intending as soon as he had done so to engage a shore
boat and return on board his own ship.  Gerald begged to be allowed to
remain on board, and his lieutenant promised to call for him on his way
down the harbour.  No sooner, however, had the party left the ship than,
seeing a passage boat on her way down to Port Royal, Gerald hailed her
and desired to be put on board the _Champion_, which, he calculated,
would by that time have come into port.  Very soon, greatly to his
delight, he saw her come to an anchor, just before the boat reached Port
Royal; and as he climbed up on one side, the captain in his gig shoved
off on the other.  As he stepped through the gangway he discovered by
the countenances of those who observed him that his appearance created
considerable astonishment; but, without answering any of the questions
put to him, he went aft to the first lieutenant, and reported himself as
come on board.

"Why, Tracy, it was supposed you were killed!" exclaimed Mr Tarwig.
"Has Mr Foley escaped as well as you?"

"Yes, sir, I am happy to say so," answered Gerald; and he briefly
recounted what had happened.

"The captain will be glad to hear this," observed Mr Tarwig, who having
no time for talking, resumed the duty he was carrying on; and Gerald
hurried away to try the effect the news he had brought would produce on
his older messmates.  He looked out for old Beater, who was not to be
seen, and he observed Crowhurst on the forecastle.

"There he is, crowing as loud as ever," thought Gerald, as he remarked
the consequential air with which the old mate walked the deck and
shouted to the men.  The lately trim corvette was much knocked about;
besides the loss of her main-topmast, many of her other spars had been
wounded, her sails riddled with shot, while her bulwarks and deck had
been torn open in several places, one of her guns disabled, and most of
her boats damaged.

The first person he met who had time to exchange a word with him was the
purser.  "What, Tracy," he exclaimed, "you still in the land of the
living!  I had written D at the end of your name; I shall have the
trouble of crossing it out again.  We were going to put up your effects
for sale to-morrow."

"Much obliged to you, sir," answered Gerald, "and must apologise for
giving you so much trouble.  Were Mr Foley's effects to be sold at the
same time?  I suppose Beater or Crowhurst expect to get promoted in his
place."

"Beater has got all the promotion he ever will, poor fellow," answered
Mr Cheeseparings; "he was the only officer killed in our late action,
though we had six men wounded.  But Crowhurst is looking forward to get
his lieutenancy to a certainty."

"I concluded that he would do so; but as Mr Foley happens to be alive,
he will be rather disappointed," said Gerald.

"Dear me! has he escaped too?" exclaimed the purser.  "Well, though I
haven't to sell his effects, I really am glad; and so, I am sure, will
be Billhook and Mac."

"If you'll excuse me, sir, I'll go and communicate the pleasing
intelligence to Crowhurst, who will, I hope, rejoice as much as the
gun-room officers," said Gerald.  Directly afterwards he met Nat Kiddle.
"Come along," he said, "and see me pull old Crowhurst down a peg or
two."

The two midshipmen met Crowhurst coming aft.  "What, youngster, are you
alive?" he exclaimed.  "I shall have some work for you and Kiddle
directly."

"Yes, old fellow, I'm alive and well," answered Gerald, "and will return
to my duty as soon as the commander or one of the lieutenants orders
me."

"Let me tell you, youngster, I don't choose to be called old fellow, and
as I am acting lieutenant, you will obey my orders."

"Certainly," said Gerald, "till Mr Foley returns, which I expect he
will do this evening."

"What--you don't mean to say so!--did Mr Foley escape with you?"
exclaimed the old mate, his countenance falling, and his whole air
changing in a moment.  Gerald then, with infinite satisfaction,
described the way he and the lieutenant had been left on board the
_Ouzel Galley_.  Not being required just then, he dived into the berth
to recount his adventures to the rest of his messmates.

In a short time the two frigates came in, and anchored near the
_Champion_, where already lay several other large ships of war forming
the Jamaica fleet, under the command of Admiral Cotes.  Gerald found his
messmates not very much out of spirits at the loss of Beater.  The old
mate's body lay between two guns, covered by an ensign; and it, with
that of two other men who had been killed, was carried on shore and
buried in the graveyard of Port Royal, where so many gallant British
seamen sleep their last.

Meantime Mr Ferris and Ellen had gone on shore, escorted by Lieutenant
Foley.  Those were the palmy days of Kingston.  Men-of-war and
privateers were constantly coming in with rich prizes, whose cargoes
added greatly to the wealth of the city; the streets were crowded with
blacks carrying bales of all descriptions to the stores; merchants'
clerks were hurrying to the quays to superintend the unloading of
vessels, and naval and military officers were moving about in all
directions; the seamen on leave were rolling here and there, shouting
forth their sea ditties; while black and brown women with baskets of
fruit and vegetables were standing at the corners of the streets, often
surrounded by a party of Jack-tars, who quickly emptied them of their
contents.

A short walk soon brought the lieutenant and his friends to the
counting-house of Mr Thomas Twigg, the agent of the firm, and a
relative of one of the partners.  They were at once shown to a large
airy room over the office, looking out on the harbour, containing a
table spread for luncheon, consisting of numerous West Indian
delicacies.  Mr Twigg, of course, pressed the lieutenant to remain.

"You don't know whether your ship has come in, and even if she has,
they've got on very well without you, and an hour more or less can make
no difference," he observed.  Norman Foley was in no hurry to take his
departure.  "Mr and Miss Ferris are coming to my pen, about five miles
off," continued Mr Twigg, "and I hope you will accompany them.  We
shall start in about a couple of hours, when there will be more shade on
the road than there is at present."

The lieutenant, very unwillingly, was compelled to decline the
invitation, but agreed to remain to see his friends off.  On hearing of
Gerald, Mr Twigg insisted on sending on board the _Ouzel Galley_ to
invite him, and Gerald afterwards found that in his eagerness to witness
the disappointment of his messmate he had thereby lost a pleasant
expedition, he having left the ship before the message arrived on board;
but, soon afterwards, who should come in but Captain Olding, who was so
delighted to find that his lieutenant and midshipman had escaped, that
he at once gave them both leave to accept Mr Twigg's invitation.
Norman Foley had the happiness of accompanying Ellen in one carriage,
while Mr Ferris and his friend, who had much to talk about, went in
another.  Ellen was, of course, delighted with the scenery and the
tropical vegetation, so new to her, though she possibly did not examine
them as minutely as she might have done under other circumstances:
Norman would have to leave her in a day or two, and he might not return
for a long time.  She had heard her father say that he expected shortly
to accompany Mr Twigg to an estate on the other side of the island, and
even should Norman's ship come into Port Royal, he might not be able to
pay her a visit.  Of course he promised to come if he could, even though
he might be able to remain only a few hours.  Bellevue was a beautiful
spot about fifty miles off, on the other side of the Blue Mountains, a
short distance from Saint Ann's Bay, and Norman hoped that his ship
might be cruising off the north coast, and that he would then have an
opportunity of seeing her.  At all events, they neither of them were
more unhappy than was necessary at the thoughts of their approaching
separation.

On their arrival at East Mount, Mr Twigg's country house, Ellen was
amused by the number of black slaves who rushed out to receive them,
chattering and laughing, and doing their best to welcome the strangers.
The house was a one-storied building, with a broad verandah round it,
standing on the summit of a hill of considerable elevation overlooking
the plain, with Kingston and the harbour in the distance; it was thus
exposed to the sea breeze, so necessary to anything like enjoyment in
the tropics.  Mrs Twigg, a buxom little lady--a fitting partner to her
sprightly, jovial spouse--received Ellen with a hearty welcome to
Jamaica.  She evidently saw how matters stood between her and the young
lieutenant, and, as far as her sense of the duties of a hostess would
allow her, left them together as much as they could desire, while Mr
Ferris and her husband were for the greater part of the day absent at
Kingston.  Those two days while Norman remained at East Mount were among
the brightest they had hitherto enjoyed.  The place seemed a perfect
Eden, with its green lawn kept ever verdant by the sparkling stream
which flowed down on one side from the hill above, bordered by the
graceful and variously shaped trees of the tropics--the tall maple
arrow, surrounded by its flowering crown of yellow; the Spanish needle,
with its dagger-like leaves; the quilled pimploe, a species of cactus;
and numberless others, from the branches of which hung lilac and purple
wreaths in rich festoons--while the sweet notes of the feathered
songsters ever and anon burst forth, and here and there could be seen
tiny humming-birds flitting from flower to flower, fluttering for a
moment and then darting off with the speed of lightning, their gem-like
plumage glittering in the sun.

Ellen and Norman, though they often talked of the past, spoke most of
the future, when he should have gained his promotion, and, the war being
over, might quit the service without dishonour and live on shore.

After arranging his affairs in Jamaica, which he believed would occupy
some months, Mr Ferris proposed returning to Ireland.  He intended to
make the voyage in the _Ouzel Galley_ when she could sail under safe
convoy.  In the mean time he expected to spend two or three months at
Bellevue, and Norman hoped that they might there again meet.  Happily
for themselves, they were ignorant of the dark storm which was brewing
over the island.

At length Norman's leave expired, and he had to return on board the
_Champion_.  A few days afterwards Mr Ferris and Ellen, accompanied by
Mr and Mrs Twigg and their family, set off across the island for
Bellevue.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE OUZEL GALLEY ORDERED ROUND TO MONTEGO BAY--FRESH GUNS AND STORES
TAKEN ON BOARD--A CRIMP BRINGS OFF SOME MEN IN NO UNUSUAL CONDITION--TWO
VOLUNTEERS--VISIT FROM GERALD--THE OUZEL GALLEY SAILS--SUSPICIONS AS TO
ONE OF THE VOLUNTEERS--MONTEGO BAY REACHED--A DINNER ON SHORE--
WARNINGS--LAST SIGHT OF THE OUZEL GALLEY FROM THE SHORE--BELLEVUE AND
ITS INHABITANTS--ARCHIE SANDYS--DESCRIBES A JUMBY DANCE--SIGNS OF A
COMING STORM--A HURRICANE--ANXIETY REGARDING THE OUZEL GALLEY--EFFECTS
OF THE HURRICANE.

The _Ouzel Galley_ was soon unloaded.  Some time, however, was spent in
repairing the damages she had received from the pirate, after which Owen
was preparing to take on board a fresh cargo, when he received orders to
proceed round to Montego Bay, where a large amount of produce, which the
firm had purchased from a neighbouring estate, was awaiting shipment.

"You will run but little risk, I hope, from the enemy's cruisers, and
against them we have at all events insured, though not to the full
amount, for we know that we can trust to the sailing qualities of the
_Ouzel Galley_, and to your courage, judgment, and seamanship," wrote
Mr Ferris.  "If a convoy can be procured, you will of course take
advantage of it; but if not, so great is the importance of getting the
produce home without delay, that we leave it to your discretion to sail
alone, should you judge that to be most to our interest.  You are also
at liberty to increase your armament by two or four guns, if you can
carry them, and not only to replace the men you lost in your action with
the pirate, but to add ten or a dozen more hands if you can obtain them.
You will thus, we hope, be able to beat off any of the enemy's smaller
cruisers or such a piratical craft as attacked us coming out; though you
will, of course, use all the means in your power to avoid a contest and
to make the best of your way home."

Owen was naturally flattered with the letter, though he considered that
the dangers he would have to encounter were much greater than those he
was likely to meet with in a run home under a sufficient convoy.
Gerald, who had been to Kingston, was paying him a visit on board on his
way down.

"I wish that I could go with you," he exclaimed, "and so, I dare say,
will our second lieutenant.  It isn't far off, I fancy, from where Mr
Ferris is staying.  I'll tell Foley--though I don't think there's much
chance of his getting leave, and we shall be sent to sea as soon as we
are ready, for the admiral isn't the man to let the grass grow on the
bottom of any of his ships."

"I wish that you could come, for I shall find it rather solitary," said
Owen.  "However, I see no chance of that, and I will now go on shore to
get the guns--I'll have the four of them--to order some of the stores I
require, and to do what I can to pick up men."

"I'll try to pay you another visit," said Gerald, as he was about to
step into the boat alongside.  "If I don't see you again, remember to
give my love to my father and Norah--and may you have a prosperous trip
home."

While Gerald went down the harbour, Owen landed, taking with him Dan and
Pompey.  The purchase of the guns was an easy matter, as there were
plenty to be had, taken out of prizes.  He chose two long brass guns,
9-pounders, and two short ones of heavier calibre.  The stores were
quickly ordered, too; but to procure the men was more difficult.  It
would be hopeless to expect to get them at all, were he particular as to
how he got them or what class of men he got.  Still, if he could have
his choice, he would take a smaller number of good men rather than his
complement of inferior hands.  There were, of course, crimps who would
be ready to supply him, and he was compelled to apply to one of these
personages, who promised to send him on board six or eight hands before
next morning.  In the mean time Pompey met two old shipmates, blacks
like himself, for whom he could answer; and Dan fortunately found a
countryman of his own, also a trusty fellow.  With these three hands
Owen returned to the ship, and the following day the guns and stores
were received on board, the former mounted on their carriages and the
latter stowed away.  Sufficient hands only were wanting to enable him to
sail.  His friend, the crimp, was as good as his word; which was not
surprising, considering that he was to be well paid for it.  Towards
evening a boat came alongside with the crimp and six men, two of whom
only were sitting upright, while the rest were lying along the thwarts.
Jonas Jobson, the crimp, a big-boned mulatto, dressed in a broad-brimmed
hat, nankeen trousers, and a white jacket, dispensing with a shirt or
other clothing, came up the side.

"Dere dey are, cappen," he said, "prime seamen when dey come to demself,
and only just a little drunkee now.  Dese two will answer for dem.
Here, you come up, Sam Tar, and you, Jack Noddin."

The two men summoned managed to get up the side, though it was very
evident that they were half-seas over.  Still they answered for
themselves in a tolerably satisfactory manner, and assured the captain
that they knew the others, who were as good seamen as ever stepped--
only, when they could get a drop of liquor, they would.  "There's no
denying of it," said Sam Tar, "and so do I--only I knows when to stop,
and they don't;" and Sam gave a lurch against Mr Jobson, which called
forth an angry rebuke from that gentleman.  Owen was not, as may be
supposed, altogether satisfied, however.  The men were hoisted on board
and laid on the deck.  Except for their breathing, they might have been
so many corpses, so utterly helpless were they.

"You've brought me a pretty lot," said Owen; "they're not likely to come
to till I get to sea, and then it's more than probable, to my mind, that
they'll not be worth their salt.  You should have brought off sober men,
that I might have judged of them."

"Ah, cappen, you berry hard on me.  How could I keep the men sober?  And
berry likely if I did dey not come 'tall," answered Mr Jobson, with
wonderful effrontery.  "You werry 'tickler; oder cappens take any dey
can get--drunkee or no drunkee, dese men prime hands when dey come to
demself."

Still Owen was firm in refusing to take the drunken men, even though Tar
and Noddin muttered that if their mates did not join, neither would
they; whereat Mr Jobson began to fear that he should have his labour
for nothing, and calling for a bucket, filled it alongside and dashed it
over the inanimate forms placed on deck.  At first the shower-bath
produced not the slightest effect, but after several buckets had been
thrown over the men, one of them began to move and to stretch out his
arms as if swimming; then another grunted, and desired with sundry
unsavoury epithets to be left alone; while a third actually sat upright,
and looked stupidly about him.  The fourth, however, remained motionless
as at first, when Mr Jobson threw another bucket of water over him.  At
last one of the mates lifted the man's arm; the moment he let go it fell
to the deck.  He then felt the hand.

"Why, Mr Jobson, you've brought us off a dead man!" he exclaimed.  "He
is as cold as ice already."

Mr Jobson stooping down, having convinced himself of the fact, coolly
observed, "Why, he alive yesterday when he come to my house."

"Yes, and you allowed him to drink himself to death," said Owen.
"You'll take him on shore with you, for he couldn't have died on board
this vessel."

Mr Jobson demurred.  "Why for dat?" he exclaimed.  "You take him to sea
and throw him oberboard; it save much trouble, and I no charge you for
him."

"I should think not," observed Owen.  "As for the other three, if Tar
and Noddin are ready to answer for them, I will keep them, for they, at
all events, are alive and likely to come to in a short time."

To Mr Jobson's disgust the corpse was lowered into the boat, when,
having received the sum agreed on, he pulled on shore to give the best
account of the matter he could.  Owen knew that he would probably state
that the man had died on board the _Ouzel Galley_, and he was taking him
on shore to be buried; for in the West Indies in those days coroners
would not be very particular in inquiring into the way seamen went out
of the world.  The three men who had been so unceremoniously treated,
having been stripped of their clothes, were stowed away in their
hammocks to recover from their drunken fit, the other two new hands
being allowed also to turn in.  Still, Owen would have been glad to have
his full complement.  He had intended to sail that night with the land
wind as soon as the moon was up, and was seated in his cabin waiting for
the pilot, and writing a report of his proceedings to Mr Ferris, when
Dan announced that two men were in a boat alongside, who wished to see
him.  He went on deck and told the men to come on board.  They did so;
both of them were sailor-like fellows.  One of them, stepping forward
and doffing his hat, said, "I understand, Captain Massey, that you want
some more hands.  My mate and I are ready to ship for the run home at
the wages you are offering.  We were left behind by the _Polly_
privateer, and as she has been taken by the French, we want to join
another ship; we've no fancy for a man-o'-war, and have had only ill
luck in privateering.  My name's John Green, and his is Thomas Routh;
I've been to sea for pretty nearly ten years, and he's been fifteen or
more afloat--so, without boasting, I may say we're both of us able
hands."

"You give a very satisfactory account of yourself and your mate, John
Green," observed Owen.  "Have you any certificates from the last vessels
you served in?"

"Unfortunately we left them on board the _Polly_, sir, and are not
likely ever to see them again," answered the man--"and we might enter on
board a man-o'-war, as you know, sir, without any questioning; though,
if you don't take us, there are plenty of other masters who won't be so
particular.  But to say the truth, sir, knowing your character, we've a
mind to sail with you."

"That's a fact," said the other man, who had not yet spoken, and who
seemed to be much older than his companion, and a rough fellow--his big
whiskers and shaggy locks almost concealing his features, though he
might not have been ill-looking had his hair been moderately trimmed.
Owen, calling his first mate, asked his opinion of the men, and they
both agreed that, as their story was probable and they had the cut of
seamen, they were not likely to get better men.  He accordingly entered
them both.  John Green was a fair-haired, ordinary-looking young man,
rather more fluent of speech than might have been expected from his
appearance, his countenance contrasting greatly with the hirsute,
sunburnt visage of his mate.

Owen had finished his letters, and got them ready to send on shore by
Dan.  Among those for England were one for Captain Tracy and mother for
Norah, for he could not tell when he might have another opportunity of
writing.  Soon afterwards the pilot came on board, the sails were
loosed, the anchor hove short, and as soon as the boat returned the ship
was got under way, and, the moon rising, she stood down the harbour with
the wind abeam.  As she got off Port Royal, the ship was hailed by a
man-of-war's boat, and ordered to shorten sail; and the boat coming
alongside, who should appear on deck but Gerald Tracy.

"I was sent to ascertain what ship this is, where you are bound to, and
all other particulars; but as I happen to know, I needn't waste time in
asking," said Gerald.  "We've lost two or three hands lately, but as I
know you've not got them, I needn't trouble you."

Owen felt considerable doubt whether he ought not to enlighten his
careless young friend, whose duty it certainly was not to take anything
for granted.  However, he thought it very probable that if he did, he
should lose some of his hands; they had come on board of their own
accord, and he wanted them even more than did the _Champion_, which
could easily supply their places.  He therefore only replied that he was
very glad Gerald had come, and as he was anxious to get to sea before
the land wind failed, he should feel obliged if his young friend would
make his visit as short as possible, and allow the ship to proceed.

"Yes, of course," answered Gerald; "but if you get home before I do,
tell Norah that she may look out for a long letter, which I intend to
write as soon as I have anything fresh to say.  We hear that, while our
ship is refitting, some of us are to be turned over to the _Augusta_,
Captain Forrest; and as we are sure to have something to do, I shall
have a long yarn to spin."

The young midshipman, who had been accompanied by Owen to the gangway,
tumbled into his boat and pulled back to his ship, fully satisfied that
he had done his duty.  The harbour-master's boat having also paid the
usual official visit and found all right, and the pilot having taken his
departure, the _Ouzel Galley_ stood out to sea under all sail.  The soft
moonbeams shed a bright light on the calm waters, just rippled over by
the breeze, the wavelets sparkling like frosted silver.  Having gained a
sufficient offing, the _Ouzel Galley_ hauled up to the westward and
stood along the coast, lofty ridges rising on her starboard hand, while
the broad expanse of the Caribbean Sea stretched away on the larboard
side.  The watch was set in charge of the first mate, but Owen had no
intention of turning in; for, although few enemies were likely to
approach the coast of Jamaica, where a large fleet was known to be
collected, still one might possibly run in, on the chance of finding a
richly laden merchantman off her guard.  It was necessary, therefore, to
be on the watch.  None, however, could approach them seaward without
being discovered in good time; but an enemy's vessel might lie hidden
behind one of the many headlands and points, or in some of the numerous
creeks on the coast, and might sally forth when least expected, and
endeavour to capture them if unprepared.  The land wind lasted for an
hour or more past midnight, when the _Ouzel Galley_ lay becalmed, with
little prospect of making progress till the sea breeze should set in in
the morning.  Owen at length, leaving the deck in charge of the second
mate, lay down in his cabin, desiring to be called should any strange
sail appear in sight.  Daylight, however, returned, and when he left his
cabin he found the crew following their usual occupations of the
morning--washing decks, coiling down the ropes.  On looking about for
the new hands, to judge of them by the way they went about their work,
he observed that the two last who had joined were flemishing the ropes
down man-of-war fashion, as were two of the others; but the rest, those
supplied by Mr Jobson, were evidently lubberly fellows, who scarcely
know the stem from the stern of the ship.

"I must practise these men at their guns, or they will be of no use if
it ever comes to a pinch," thought Owen.  While he was watching the
crew, the dark-whiskered man who had entered as Thomas Routh came aft,
when Owen got a better look at his countenance than he had hitherto had.
He started, for he fully believed that he saw before him O'Harrall,
whose life he had twice been the means of saving.  He looked again and
again, not wishing, however, that the man should discover that he was
especially noticing him; while the latter, apparently totally
unconscious of being remarked, went on with his work.  Still, it was not
likely that O'Harrall had voluntarily come on board his ship.  At last
he determined to speak to the man, and to judge by his tone of voice and
answers.  He called him up.

"Have you ever served with me before?" he asked.

"No, sir, not that I know of, for I neither remember your features nor
your name," was the answer.

"Have you over served on board a man-of-war?" asked Owen.

"When I shipped aboard this craft I came to do duty as a seaman, not to
answer questions about my previous life," said the man, looking up
boldly into Owen's face.  Owen turned away; the voice reminded him of
O'Harrall as much as the countenance, and yet, from the man's perfect
coolness, he could not suppose that he could be that person.  Owen had
no doubt, however, that he had served on board a man-of-war, and was
probably a deserter, and that, should any naval officer come on board in
search of deserters, the man would probably be taken.  He determined, at
all events, to watch the man and see how he behaved himself towards the
rest of the crew.  Owen was not long left in doubt, for, though Green
had at first been put forward, it was very evident that the other was
the leading spirit of the two.  He was observed to be associating
chiefly with the new men, and talking to them when no others were
present, endeavouring, not unsuccessfully, to establish an influence
over them.  He did not, however, neglect the old hands, and whenever he
had an opportunity he took pains to win their goodwill.  To the officers
he was obedient and submissive enough; and when, rounding Negril Head at
the west end of the island, the ship was struck by a sudden squall, he
showed by his activity and courage that he was a first-rate seaman.  His
manners, too, were above those of an ordinary sailor, and though rough
in his exterior, he was neat and clean in his person.

The ship was running in for Montego Bay.  Owen and his first mate had
gone down to take a hurried dinner, when Dan came in to the cabin.

"Well, Dan, how do the new hands get on?" asked Owen.

"It's just that I want speak to you about, your honour," answered Dan.
"There's not much to be said about most of them, except that they're
pretty hard bargains; but there's one of them, Routh, who, if he isn't
some great lord, will try to make the people believe that he is.  It's
only to be hoped that he means well, for if he takes it into his head to
do any harm, he'll do it."

"Perhaps, after all, he may have no evil intentions.  He certainly is
one of our best men," observed Mr Fisher, the first mate.

"Your honour asked me to say what I thought of the men, and I've said
it," answered Dan.

"We shall see how he behaves in harbour, and if there is no fault to
find with him we can keep him on board," remarked Owen.

"Your honour knows what's best," observed Dan, speaking with the freedom
of an old follower, "but I'll stake my davy that he's after no good."

"Well, Dan, Mr Fisher and I will keep an eye on him, and you can report
anything further you see suspicious in his conduct," said Owen, as he
and his mate returned on deck.

An hour afterwards the _Ouzel Galley_ was at anchor in Montego Bay.
Owen was just going on shore, when Mr Twigg, who had been waiting for
the ship, came off and gave him directions about receiving his cargo.
Owen reported that he had fully carried out his instructions, showed the
guns he had procured, and mustered his crew.

"A likely set of fellows," observed Mr Twigg.  "You'll do your duty, my
lads, and, if you have to defend the ship, you'll fight bravely.  Should
you come back in her you may be sure of good wages; Ferris, Twigg, and
Cash pay well when they are well served."

The crew cheered, and Routh, who stood foremost among then, was
especially vociferous, though he might have been seen winking to some of
his mates when the eyes of the worthy planter and the officers were
turned away.

"You'll have the droghers alongside to-morrow morning, and you'll not be
long in hoisting the casks on board, Captain Massey," continued Mr
Twigg, as he walked the poop.  "Meantime, I shall be happy to see you on
shore, and should have been glad to take you to Bellevue, as Miss Ferris
is anxious to send some messages to our fair friend Miss Tracy, who won
all our hearts out here, as I understand she has that of another friend
of ours."  Mr Twigg chuckled, and Owen looked conscious.  "However, as
the distance is too great, Miss Ferris has intrusted me with letters for
her friend, which I can safely confide to you."

Thus Mr Twigg talked on.  "You will pass in sight of Bellevue as you
run along the coast--we'll signal you, so that you can give the last
report of your friends when you reach Dublin."

The invitation Owen had received was equivalent to a command, and,
though he would have preferred remaining on board, he accompanied Mr
Twigg on shore.  He met at dinner several planters, agents of estates,
or attorneys, as they were called; two or three brother skippers whose
vessels lay in the harbour, a military officer, and a few nondescripts.
The conversation was pretty general, though the subject of sugar and rum
might have predominated, and Owen heard more about affairs in Jamaica
than he had hitherto done.  The blacks, he found, were in an
unsatisfactory state; they had been discovered holding secret meetings
of a suspicious character.  They had more than once before revolted and
committed most fearful atrocities; and one or two gentlemen expressed
the fear that, unless precautions were taken in time, the black's might
play the same trick again.  Those gentlemen were, however, looked upon
by the rest of the company as timid alarmists.

"The cowhide is the best specific for keeping the black rascals in
order," exclaimed Mr Tony Grubbins, an attorney from a neighbouring
estate, who looked as if he not unfrequently used that same weapon of
offence.  "We always know in good time what the negroes are about, for
they haven't the sense to keep their own secrets; if they show any
obstreperousness, we shall pretty quickly put them down."

"As there are ten blacks to one white man, if the negroes are combined
we might find it not so easy a matter to put them down," observed one of
the timid gentlemen.

"Pooh-pooh, sir!--show them the muzzle of a blunderbuss and they'll be
off like a shot," answered the other.

From the remarks made by the timid gentleman, Owen felt, however,
inclined to side with his opinion.

Captain Brown, of the good ship _Sarah Ann_, on hearing that Owen was to
sail without convoy, warned him of the danger he would run.  "All very
well, sir," he observed, "when you get to the eastward of the islands,
but you'll find out that you'll have to run the gauntlet of the enemy's
cruisers, for they're pretty thick in these seas; and, in addition,
there are not a few picarooning, piratical rascals who don't pretend
even to be privateers, and boldly hoist the black flag, and rob and
murder all they can capture."

"I hope that the _Ouzel Galley_ can keep clear of them, as well as of
the regular cruisers of the enemy," answered Owen.  "We fell in with a
gentleman of the sort on our passage out, but we had fewer guns and
hands than we have now, and we at first took him for one of our convoy,
or we should have beaten him off without much difficulty."

"That is more than poor Wilkins, of the _Greyhound_, was able to do,"
remarked Captain Brown.  "I was in company with him at sunset, when
everything was well on board, and we were standing the same course--but
next morning he was nowhere in sight, and my first mate, who had the
middle watch, told me he saw two vessels astern instead of one.  As no
guns were heard, it's my belief that the _Greyhound_ was taken by
surprise and carried before the crew had time to fire a shot in their
defence."

"Depend on it, we'll keep too sharp a look-out to be surprised," said
Owen, "though I am obliged to you for the warning."

As the party was becoming a somewhat uproarious one, Owen, who both from
principle and habit was a sober man, stole off and returned on board his
ship.  The mate reported all well, and that none of the crew had even
asked leave to go on shore.  When Dan, however, made his appearance in
the cabin, he looked while he moved about as if he had something to
communicate.

"What's the matter?  Out with it, Dan," said Owen.

"Your honour, I don't want to be a talebearer," answered Dan, "but Routh
and Green and the rest of their gang have been talking together the
whole of the watch, and that means mischief."

"The more necessity for keeping a bright look-out on them," observed the
captain, "and I have no doubt that the honest men in the ship will keep
them down, whatever tricks they may play."

With a certain amount of uncomfortable feeling Owen turned in, keeping,
as he always did, his pistol and sword by the side of his bed.  The next
day he was too busy taking in cargo to think of the matter; and now,
being ready for sea, the _Ouzel Galley_ stood out of the harbour.

According to arrangement with Mr Twigg, the _Ouzel Galley_ kept along
the coast till she came off Bellevue.  As she appeared, a flag from the
flagstaff on shore flew out to the breeze.  Owen hoisted his colours and
fired his guns, and the merchantman, looking as trim as a ship of war,
sailed on her course.

"No fear about that young fellow making the voyage if any man can do
it," observed Mr Twigg to Mr Ferris.

"He has been brought up under a good captain--a better we have not in
our service," replied Mr Ferris.

Ellen watched the departing ship which was carrying her epistle to
Norah.  The weather was beautiful, though the heat was somewhat more
oppressive than usual; a light breeze filled the sails of the _Ouzel
Galley_, wafting her over the calm waters.  It was scarcely possible to
believe that she would have any dangers to encounter on that tranquil
ocean.

A considerable number of persons inhabited the house of Bellevue.
Besides Mr Twigg and his wife and the manager, there were six young
gentlemen, book-keepers, who were so called though they had no books to
keep, but were employed in superintending the various operations of the
estate.  Most of them were young men of respectable families, who looked
forward to becoming managers or to holding other responsible offices.
There were also several assistant overseers, mostly mulattoes, though
some were whites--literally, slave-drivers--whose business was to keep
the negroes up to their work in the fields.  The book-keepers dined at
table, and were treated in every respect as gentlemen, though the
manager kept them under pretty strict discipline.  One of them, Archie
Sandys, a lively young Scotchman, was a favourite with Ellen, as he
reminded her of Gerald Tracy.  He was clever, too, and very well
informed.  That he admired her, there could be little doubt, for no one
was more ready to obey her behests, though he might not have foolishly
lost his heart or ventured to lift his eyes to one so much above him in
fortune.

The _Ouzel Galley_ was still in sight in the offing, when Archie, having
performed his duties for the day, came in and found Ellen seated in the
shade, inhaling what little air was moving.  The scene was a lovely one.
The house stood on a height looking over the sea; there was a lawn
green as one in spring, with a shrubbery on either side of tropical
trees and shrubs of varied and picturesque forms, above which towered
several specimens of the graceful palm.  Birds of gay plumage and
butterflies of gorgeous hues were flitting about, and many magnificent
flowers, such as are to be seen in hot-houses alone at home, were
blooming around.  Words, however, can never give an adequate description
of West Indian scenery.  Young Sandys made his bow to Miss Ferris, who
greeted him with a smile.

"I am not intruding on you, I hope?" he said.

"Certainly not," she answered, laughing; and seeing that he was not
expected to go away, he stood leaning against one of the pillars of the
verandah.

"I witnessed a curious scene yesterday, which I have not before had an
opportunity of describing," he said, after a few other remarks had
passed between them.  "I don't know what Mr Ferris or our manager will
say to it; I consider myself fortunate in getting away with a whole
skin.  You perhaps, Miss Ferris, have never heard of a Jumby dance; I
had, and wished to see one.  Yesterday, one of our assistant overseers,
a mulatto, Bob Kerlie by name, to whom I had rendered some service, told
me that he had heard one was to take place on some wild ground between
this and the next estate; and I persuaded him to act as my guide to the
place.  He told me that I must be careful what I said or did, as the
negroes were in a very curious humour and might easily be offended.  We
carried our cutlasses, and I stuck a brace of pistols in my belt;
besides which, we were each provided with a stout walking-stick.  We
started at sundown, and after leaving the cultivated ground we had no
little difficulty in making our way through the tangled brushwood till
we reached the hut in which the Jumby dance was to be performed.  It
stood under a vast cotton-tree, on an open space near the bank of the
river which you see running into the ocean to the westward of this.  As
we went along Kerlie told me that the chief performer was a big negro,
Cudjoe, reputed to be a powerful Obeah man; that is, a necromancer, or
what the North American Indians would call a medicine-man.  He is
supposed to possess wonderful mysterious powers--to be able to cause the
death of any one who offends him.  Bob assured me that there was no
doubt about this, and those he denounces never fail to die shortly
afterwards.  If such is the case, Master Cudjoe probably knows how to
use poison to bring about the fulfilment of his predictions, and I am
thankful that he does not belong to us.

"We found upwards of a hundred negroes, mostly men, though there were
some women among them, all decked out in strange and uncouth ornaments,
snakes' heads, dried frogs, various coloured beads forming necklaces
round their throats; their garments were otherwise scanty in the
extreme.  They looked surprised and not very well pleased at seeing us,
and Rob had some difficulty in persuading them that I only came for
curiosity and was far too good-natured to say anything about what I
might see which might get them into trouble.  The assembly being
pacified agreed to our remaining.  I observed that there was a great
deal of talking among them, but as they spoke their native African,
neither Rob nor I could understand what was said.  The hut was of
considerable size, though low and thatched merely with palm-leaves.
There were no windows, and only one door; this was now thrown open, when
what looked to me like a huge skeleton appeared at the entrance, and
waved its bony arms wildly about, beckoning the people to enter.  They
started to their feet, for they had hitherto been squatting round, and
rushed eagerly to the door.  Rob and I followed, when we discovered that
the seeming skeleton was the Obeah man, Cudjoe, who had thus painted his
black body from head to foot.  The hut was lighted by some twenty small
lamps, hung from the roof, and in the centre was a figure intended to
represent a human being, with an enormous cock's head.  Master Cudjoe,
if he was the artist, had contrived to produce as hideous-looking a
monster as could well be imagined.  `That's the fetish,' whispered Rob;
`they worship it as if it were a god.'

"Cudjoe, on seeing us, asked in an angry tone what we wanted, and Rob
spoke to him as he had done to the other people.  `Den you keep quiet,
buccra,' he said, turning to me; `I no hab laffee or talkee.'  I assured
him that I would remain as still as a mouse; and with a growl he retired
again inside the hut, where he seated himself in front of a huge
tom-tom, the African drum, and began slowly to beat it, chanting at the
same time one of his native songs, I concluded.  Gradually he beat
faster and faster, accompanying the music, if such it could be called,
with his voice.  The spectators sat listening in rapt attention, when
suddenly one of the women started up and began dancing, keeping capital
time to the music.  The faster Cudjoe played the faster she danced, till
every limb and muscle seemed in movement.  Round and round she went in
front of the hideous fetish: no dervish of the East could have danced
more furiously.  Presently she was joined by a man, who danced in the
same manner round and round her.  One after the other, the whole of the
women, with partners, took a part in the performance; I could scarcely
follow their dark figures, except by the ornaments they wore, as they
moved in eccentric courses within the hut, the tom-tom beating louder
and louder, and the people moving faster.  The spectators had hitherto
sat quiet; they at length rose, and were, I saw, apparently about to
join in the saturnalia.  Just then Rob touched me on the arm and
whispered, `Come away, sir; I heard something which told me it will not
be safe to remain here longer.'  As I had no wish to be offered up as a
sacrifice to the fetish I followed his advice, and as fast as we could
move along we made our way back to the open.  On inquiring of Rob what
he had heard, he told me that the negroes were cursing the white men,
and were praying to the fetish to assist them in some design or other
they had on foot.  Rob even thought that in their excitement they might
seize us and put us to death.  He was so earnest in the matter that he
convinced me he did not speak without sufficient cause.  I don't wish to
alarm you, Miss Ferris, but I want you to try and induce your father to
take precautions against any sudden outbreak of the blacks.  Our manager
holds them in such supreme contempt that he wouldn't listen to what I
have to say, and would only laugh at me and call me a second-sight
Scotchman.  Even the hundred negroes I saw assembled might commit a
great deal of mischief; and there may be many hundreds more united with
them: numbers arrived while we were there, and others were coming in as
we made our escape."

"I certainly think you are right, Mr Sandys, in not despising the
warning given by the overseer," said Ellen.  "I will tell my father what
you have said to me, and ask him to speak to you on the subject, and he
will probably examine Rob Kerlie.  It will surely be wise to be on our
guard, even should the negroes not really be meditating mischief.  I
confess that what you have told me has made me somewhat anxious; this
hot evening is not calculated to rise one's spirits.  Tell me, Mr
Sandys, is the air often as oppressive as it is at present?"

"No, certainly.  It is very hot indeed; I suspect that we are going to
have a storm," answered Archie.  "I observed this morning curiously
shaped clouds high up in the sky, which suddenly dispersed from every
point of the compass.  I have been for some minutes, watching a bank of
clouds rising above the horizon in the north-west, and it has gained a
considerable height since we were speaking; it seems to have swept round
the western end of the island."

Ellen looked in the direction indicated; just then a vivid flash of
lightning burst from the dark bank of clouds in the west, followed
almost without interval by several others, and in a few minutes the tops
of the tall palms bent before a sudden blast which came rushing from the
westward.  Every instant it increased in fury; the leaves torn from the
trees filled the air, succeeded by branches, many of considerable size.

"I must advise you, Miss Ferris, to take shelter within the house," said
Archie, "for one of those branches might injure you severely.  Even the
verandah itself may be blown away.  You have little conception of the
power of a West Indian hurricane."

As Ellen was hurrying into the house she met her father coming to look
for her.

"I am afraid we are going to have a violent storm, of which this wind is
only the precursor," he said.  "We must seek for safety in the strongest
part of the house; it will not be safe to remain in the open air, or
even near the window, through which a branch or any other object may be
blown."

Ellen had accompanied her father to the dining-hall, which, being in the
centre of the house, was less exposed to danger than any other part of
the building.  So loudly did the wind roar that even there it was
necessary to speak in a high tone to be heard.

"Oh, what will become of the _Ouzel Galley_ if she is caught in this
fearful gale!" exclaimed Ellen.

"She has by this time, I hope, gained a good offing; if the wind holds
as it now does, she will be able to run before it till she is out of
danger," answered Mr Ferris.

As the evening was now drawing rapidly on, the manager and book-keepers
came in from the works in the different parts of the estate.  They all
looked somewhat anxious, though no damage had yet been done, and a hope
was entertained that it was not going to be anything serious after all.
Their spirits revived when suddenly the wind ceased and the atmosphere
became as clear as usual.  Two or three of them had, however, again to
go out; and on their return they reported that the sky was once more
overcast, and that it was lightening in all quarters.  Presently the
rain came down in true tropical fashion, again to stop and again to go
on with greater energy than before.  Sometimes it was perfectly calm,
but the lightning continued darting forth from the sky with awful
grandeur; sometimes the whole upper regions of the air were illuminated
by incessant flashes, but the quivering sheet of blazing fire was far
surpassed in brilliancy by the electric fluid which was exploding in
every direction.  Ellen and her father and young Sandys were standing as
near one of the windows as they could venture, when they saw a meteor of
deep red hue and globular form descending perpendicularly from an
enormous height.  As it approached the earth its motion appeared to be
accelerated, and it then became of dazzling whiteness, elongating in
form till, dashing on the ground, it splashed around like molten lead or
quicksilver and disappeared.  The next instant the hurricane again burst
forth, rushing amid the trees with the sound of a heartrending and
piercing scream, so loud as entirely to drown the human voice.  The
whole building shook and trembled as if an earthquake was taking place
and it was about to be hurled to the ground.  Mr Ferris, seizing
Ellen's arm, dragged her into a doorway.

"Should the house not withstand this furious blast, we shall be safer
here than anywhere else," he said.

Young Sandys followed them.  Mr Twigg, with his wife and children, was
at the time in another room.  Ellen naturally felt anxious for her
friends, and young Sandys offered to go and ascertain how they were
getting on.  He quickly returned with the report that they were all
safe, and that the children were clinging round their parents, overcome
with terror, and shrieking piteously.  No thunder was at any time heard,
and all agreed that even if the whole battery of a line-of-battle ship
had been going off, the sound would not have been distinguished above
the horrible roar and yelling of the wind and the noise of the ocean, as
its tumultuous waves dashed on the shore, threatening every instant to
sweep over the land and engulf all within their reach.  The wind
continually shifted, now blowing from one quarter, now from another.
Suddenly the deafening noise sank into a solemn murmur, and the
lightning, which had hitherto played in flashes and forked darts,
hovered for a few seconds between the clouds and the earth, circling
round and round, causing the whole heavens to appear on fire, when a
similar luminous appearance seemed to burst from the ground, and,
rising, the mass rushed upwards to the sky.  After a short interval,
again was felt the breath of the whirlwind with even greater fury than
before, and it seemed as if everything on the face of the earth would be
swept away into the boiling ocean.  Again the earth was shaken, and the
house vibrated with a violence which threatened its instant destruction.
Mr Ferris kept a firm hold of his daughter's arm, and she, in a way
which surprised him as well as herself, maintained her composure during
the whole of this fearful strife of the elements.  Not till daylight
returned did the fury of the tempest altogether cease; sometimes it
abated, again to burst forth with almost the same power as before.  The
house itself, having been strongly built and the roof fixed on with the
greatest care, withstood the hurricane, a portion only at one end having
been blown off; but the out-buildings were materially damaged.  Mr
Ferris and his managers waited anxiously to hear a report of the damage
which had been done to the estate.  Round the house many trees had been
torn from their roots, others snapped short off, and all had more or
less suffered.  The ocean still continued to rage with unabated fury,
even after the wind itself had ceased Ellen naturally looked along the
horizon, but not a sail was in sight, and again and again she asked what
could have become of the _Ouzel Galley_.  Her affection for Norah made
her feel as if she was herself personally interested in the fate of the
brave young commander, as much as Mr Ferris was in reality in that of
the ship.  He could no longer conceal his anxiety about the _Ouzel
Galley_.  How she had fared was the subject of earnest discussion
between him and Mr Twigg.  The latter thought it just possible that she
might have got beyond the influence of the hurricane before it burst
with its full fury; and if not, might have weathered it out, as many a
stout ship with plenty of sea room had weathered similar hurricanes
before.  He acknowledged, however, that she might have been caught by
it, and if so, while the wind blew from the northward, might have been
driven on shore.  The latter point would in time be ascertained, and as
soon as possible a messenger was despatched along the coast, who, though
he reported several shipwrecks, had ascertained that the _Ouzel Galley_
was not among them.

"She was well found and not overladen, and as well able to keep afloat,
even in such a sea as we saw running, as any ship which ever sailed the
ocean," observed Mr Ferris.  "We shall hear, I trust, in due course of
her arrival."

Dreadful as the hurricane had appeared, the damage done was not as great
as might have been expected.  It was the opinion of many that only the
tail of the hurricane had passed over the island.  It was bad enough as
it was.  In some places the country appeared as if scorched by fire, in
others the crops were totally destroyed; numerous buildings were
levelled with the ground, and the trees and shrubs uprooted; a number of
people had been killed, and many more seriously injured, by being struck
by shingles from the roofs or branches from the trees, and by other hard
substances which went hurtling like cannon-shot through the air.  So
rapid, however, is vegetation in the tropics that nature herself would
repair much of the damage produced, and the industry of man the
remainder--although the proprietors had to suffer severely in their
pockets, while there was no power to restore to life the unhappy beings
who had been killed.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

CAPTAIN TRACY AND NORAH AT HOME--A LETTER FROM GERALD--HIS ADVENTURES--A
CRUISE OFF HISPANIOLA--ENGAGEMENT WITH A FRENCH SQUADRON--THE ENEMY PUT
TO FLIGHT--DEATH OF A YOUNG MIDSHIPMAN--RETURN TO PORT ROYAL--A SECOND
CRUISE, AND CAPTURE OF SEVERAL RICH MERCHANTMEN--GERALD IN COMMAND OF
THE FLORA--HIS STEWARD PETER--MORE TIDINGS OF THE PIRATES--THE CHAMPION
SENT WITH DESPATCHES TO THE LEEWARD ISLANDS--JOINS THE BUCKINGHAM IN
ATTACKING A FORT AT MARTINICO--GENEROUS CONDUCT OF CAPTAIN TYRRELL--
PETER'S NARRATIVE--HIS CAPTURE BY PIRATES, AND ESCAPE.

Norah and her father had for many months been living an uneventful life
in their pretty little cottage near Waterford.  She was his constant
companion; indeed, she never ventured out without him.  Things had come
to a pretty pass, as he observed, when a young lady couldn't take a walk
by herself without the risk of being carried off by a party of
filibustering squireens, quite as bad in their way as the picarooning
rascals in the West Indies and on the Spanish Main, who had often in
days of yore given him so much anxiety--not that they ever had caught
him, for he was too much on his guard, though he had been chased
well-nigh a score of times; and he intended to be on his guard now, and,
as he hoped, with the same success.

This state of things, therefore, did not much concern him, as he was
glad of Norah's society, and was always as ready to walk with her as she
was with him.  Their walks, indeed, seldom extended much beyond
Waterford, or the often-trod road to Widow Massey's house.  Norah never
passed many days without paying her a visit.  They were now looking
forward to receiving news of Owen, or indeed, as they hoped, seeing him
himself, as the _Ouzel Galley_, unless detained longer than was
expected, would some time since have commenced her homeward voyage.  A
letter had come from Gerald saying that he had just seen her on her way
round to Montego Bay, and giving an account of himself and what he had
seen and done up to that time.  He promised to write a longer letter
when he had more to say.  A couple of months or more after the arrival
of Gerald's first letter another was received from him.

"Dear sister Norah," it ran, "I promised to spin you a long yarn, so
here goes, and I hope that you'll get it some day.  I told you in my
last that I had seen the _Ouzel Galley_ under way from Montego Bay, and
I suppose Owen has long before this delivered all the messages I sent by
him; and if not, I dare say he will before long, if he hasn't forgotten
them.  No matter; they were not very important, so you needn't scold him
for his negligence.

"I forget if I told you that, while our ship was undergoing repairs in
dock at Port Royal, Lieutenant Foley, Molly--I mean Lord Mountstephen--
with Nat Kiddle and me, and about twenty of our hands, were turned over
to the _Augusta_, 60-gun ship, commanded by Captain Forrest; and
immediately afterwards were ordered to proceed to sea, accompanied by
two other ships under his orders, the _Edinburgh_, of sixty-four guns,
Captain Langdon, and the _Dreadnought_, of sixty guns, Captain Morris
Suckling.  We soon found that we were to cruise off Cape Francois, on
the north coast of Saint Domingo, to watch a French squadron under
Commodore De Kearsaint, who was collecting a large number of merchantmen
which he was to convoy from that port to Europe.  The admiral had been
informed that the French had only three line-of-battle ships, which,
although somewhat larger than we were, he knew very well that we should
thrash if we could come up with them.  We gained intelligence, however,
from a French despatch vessel which we captured, that the enemy's
squadron had lately been increased by four other ships, one of which,
by-the-by, was a ship of ours--the _Greenwich_--of fifty guns, captured
a few months ago, when commanded by Captain Roddam, off this very
island.  He had nothing to be ashamed of, for with his single ship he
bravely faced five sail of the line and several frigates, and wasn't
taken till he had lost all chance of escaping except by going to the
bottom.  Thus, you see, the French had seven ships to our three, and we
heard besides that they had been strongly manned by volunteers from the
garrison and merchant vessels, and made sure that they should either
drive us away or capture us.

"Notwithstanding the superiority of the enemy, we were not to be put to
flight, but kept our ground as if no Frenchmen were in the
neighbourhood.  We had been for some days cruising off the cape, always
near enough to keep the port in sight, so that no vessel could steal out
without our knowing it, when early in the morning the _Dreadnought_,
which was inshore of us, made the signal that the enemy was in sight,
and before noon we could see the whole French squadron standing out in
line towards us, the wind being about north-east--if you get the chart,
father will explain matters to you.  We were to windward of them,
keeping close together, though not so close as the Frenchmen, who seemed
very anxious to be backing up each other.  Our captain now made the
signal for the other two captains to come on board the _Augusta_.  As
soon as they stepped on the quarter-deck, Captain Forrest, after shaking
hands, said, `Well, gentlemen, you see the Frenchmen are come out to
engage us.'  On which Captain Suckling quickly replied, `I think it
would be a pity to disappoint them.'  `And what do you say?' asked our
captain, turning to Captain Langdon.  `I heartily agree with Captain
Suckling,' was the answer.  `If we disable them, we shall do good
service by preventing them from convoying the merchant vessels, and
maybe we shall take one or two of them.  Of one thing I feel very sure,
that they won't take us.'

"The three captains being agreed, the other two went back to their
ships, and we hoisted the signal to make all sail and to close the
enemy.  The _Dreadnought_ led in our line; the _Intrepide_, the French
commodore's ship, led in that of the enemy, followed by the _Greenwich_.
The wind was light, and it seemed to me that we should never get into
action.  Though I've seen a good deal of fighting on a small scale, yet
this affair was likely to prove more serious than any I had yet engaged
in.  I was stationed on the main-deck, and the scene was very different
to what I had been accustomed to on board the _Champion_ where we've no
deck above us and can see everything that is going forward.  Here, it
was only by looking through a port that I could get a glimpse of the
enemy's ships, as they stood on in a long line, one closely following
the other--so closely, indeed, that the leading ship had the jibboom end
of the one next her in line almost over her taffrail.  Molly, Kiddle,
and I had charge of the guns manned by the _Champion's_ people.  We
reminded them that they must show what they were made of, and maintain
the honour of the little ship; they one and all answered that they
would; and they looked as if they intended to keep to their word, as
they stood with their shirts off, handkerchiefs bound round their heads,
and belts round their waists, ready to fire as soon as the order should
be given.  In a line behind where we stood were the powder-boys seated
on their tubs, cracking jokes, and seeming altogether to forget that we
should have, in a few minutes, showers of round shot rattling about our
ears.  Though we used to call Mountstephen Molly, he didn't look a bit
like a Molly now, for he walked the deck as calm and composed as if
nothing particular was going to happen.  I asked him what o'clock it
was.  He said, `Twenty minutes past three.'  Just then the _Dreadnought_
opened her fire on the French commodore; and didn't Captain Suckling
pound him--knocking away in a few minutes several of his spars, and so
wounding his rigging that he fell on board the _Greenwich_, which, as I
said, was close astern of him.  As the _Dreadnought_ stood on, we got
up, and the word to fire was passed along our decks; and you may be sure
we quickly obeyed it, blazing away at the two French ships already foul
of each other, when they drove down upon the third astern, and there all
three lay, unable to get clear one of the other.

"The French had a 64 and a 44 gun ship, besides two 32-gun frigates,
which were able to manoeuvre, and these, as you may suppose, did not
remain quiet while the _Augusta_ and _Edinburgh_ were blazing away at
the three ships, which still lay jammed together.  It made the fight,
however, more equal than it would otherwise have been.  Their shot came
on board us pretty thickly, and not a few of our men were struck down.
Among them was our first lieutenant, who raised his hand for a moment,
and then fell back, dead.  Soon afterwards I saw poor Mountstephen fall;
I ran to help him, when I found that one of his legs had been shot away
and the other fearfully injured.  I ordered a couple of men to carry him
below; I should have liked to go with him, poor fellow, but I couldn't
leave the deck.  I had returned to my station, when I found myself
suddenly splashed all over with what I thought was water, though it was
rather warm.

"`What, Paddy Tracy, are you wounded?'  I heard Nat Kiddle sing out.

"`Not that I know of,' I answered; `I don't feel like it.'  Then I saw
what had happened--a man standing close to me had been cut right in two
by a round shot, which came through the port, wounding a couple of men
besides.

"Much as the enemy were knocked about, we were already in a pretty bad
condition, having all our masts, sails, rigging, and boats considerably
damaged, eight or ten men killed, and nearly thirty wounded.  If it
hadn't been for the four ships of the enemy still able to manoeuvre, we
should have taken or sunk the other three, for they couldn't manage to
get free of each other, while they could only now and then fire a few
shot at us.  At length, to our infinite satisfaction, we saw the masts
of the 64 engaged with the _Dreadnought_ go over the side, while all the
line-of-battle ships were evidently tremendously knocked about both in
hull and rigging.  We had been engaged for upwards of two hours, when
the French commodore made a signal to one of the frigates, which, coming
up, took him in tow and carried him out of action; and his example was
followed by the whole of the French squadron, which made sail for Cape
Francois, then to leeward of them.

"The _Edinburgh_ had been as much damaged in her masts, yards, and sails
as we were, and Captain Langdon signalled that she had also several shot
in her hull.  The _Dreadnought_, we saw, had lost her main and mizen
topmasts, while nearly all her other masts and yards were greatly
injured, and she also had received many shot in her hull, besides having
lost as many men as we had.  This made Captain Forrest refrain from
following the Frenchmen.

"I was very glad to find Mr Foley all right, for his own sake, for I
like him very much--and still more for that of Miss Ferris, for it would
be a terrible thing for her were he to be killed, and I hope he won't,
though we all run the risk of losing the number of our mess.  As soon as
I could leave my station I ran down below to see how poor Mountstephen
was getting on.  He was perfectly sensible, though pale as a sheet.  He
said he felt no pain.  His first question was, `What are the enemy
about?'

"`They're running,' I replied.

"`What, all seven of them?' he asked.

"`Yes, every one,' I answered.

"`Hurrah!' he exclaimed, waving his hand above his head, `we've gained
the victory.'

"Scarcely were the words out of his mouth than he fell back, and before
the doctor could come to him he was dead.

"When I got on deck again--and I can tell you I was very glad to breathe
some fresh air, after being down in that dreadful cockpit, full of poor
fellows groaning with pain, some having their legs and arms cut off,
others with their sides torn open or heads fearfully smashed--I found
that the enemy were out of our reach, and that not one of our three
ships was in a condition to follow them.  This was very provoking,
though we had fought a right gallant action, of that there can be no
doubt.  Captain Forrest seeing that, if we got to leeward, we should be
unable to beat off, and very likely be driven on shore and lost, ordered
a course to be steered for Jamaica, where we arrived in a couple of
days.  The admiral highly approved of what had been done, and Captain
Forrest received orders to get his ship repaired with all despatch and
return as soon as possible in search of the enemy.  The hands were taken
off our sloop for this purpose, and there seemed every probability of
our remaining some time longer on board the _Augusta_.  Still, things
are not done so quickly out here as they are in the dockyards at home.
At last we got to sea and sailed for Cape Francois.  On looking into
that port we found that the Frenchmen had put their best legs foremost,
and that Monsieur De Kearsaint, having repaired his ships, had some days
before sailed with the convoy for Europe, and we should have no chance
of overtaking him.  We had accordingly to come back, when we again
sailed with the admiral, whose flag was flying on board the
_Marlborough_, for a cruise off Cape Tiberon.  I should make my letter
too long if I were to describe all that took place.  We had not been
many days on the station before we captured two French privateers, and
from their crows learned that a rich convoy was preparing at Port au
Prince to sail for Europe, under the protection of two large armed
private ships.  The admiral on this sent in his tender to ascertain if
such was the fact.  Her commander, who speaks French, managed to gain
all the intelligence he required; he soon returned, having ascertained
that the information received was correct.  The admiral accordingly
directed us to proceed off the island of Golave, to cruise there for two
days, and, should we see anything of the convoy at the expiration of
that time, to return and join him.  Golave, you will understand, is in
the middle of the large bay which occupies nearly the whole western
coast of Saint Domingo, to the northward of Cape Tiberon.

"The afternoon of the day following our arrival, we had got well up into
the bay, when we caught sight of two sloops.  To prevent them from
taking us for what we were, we hoisted Dutch colours and stood away from
them.  In the evening we sighted seven more sail steering out of the
bay.  On this, to deceive the enemy, we hung tarpaulins over the sides
of the ship, set the sails in lubberly fashion, and, hauling our wind,
stood away from the strangers till dark.  We then again made sail and
followed them.  At ten o'clock we saw two more sail, one of which fired
a gun, and the other then parted company and steered for Leogane.  Soon
afterwards eight more sail were seen to leeward.  We had not lost sight
of the ship which had fired a gun; though she might have suspected our
character, she did not stand away from us.  We accordingly soon ran up
alongside, when Captain Forrest shouted out to him in French to strike,
adding, `If you alarm the other ships, or let them discover by any means
what we are, we'll send you forthwith to the bottom.'

"The French commander, fully believing that our captain would put his
threat into execution, immediately gave in; and one of our lieutenants,
with thirty-five men, went on board the prize with orders to proceed off
Petit Guave, a small port to leeward, to prevent any of the other
vessels from escaping into it.  The vessel we had captured was the
_Mars_, of twenty-two guns and 108 men, all of whom we had now aboard
us, stowed away below lest they should be making signals to the enemy.
We stood on during the remainder of the night, and at daylight found
ourselves in the midst of the convoy, which, on our hoisting our colours
and showing what we were about, began firing at us; but we quickly
silenced them one after the other, and in the course of a few minutes
the whole struck, one small vessel alone managing to get away.  There
were altogether eight vessels, richly laden, each carrying from eight to
ten guns.  We had to take out their crews and man them from our ship.
The captain, sending for me, greatly to my satisfaction, ordered me to
take charge of one of them, called the _Flora_.  Tumbling into one of
the boats with ten hands, I quickly pulled aboard, and found that she
carried twelve guns and a crew of thirty-five men.  The Frenchmen looked
very glum when I told them that they were to get into the boat and go
aboard our ship.  I kept one of them, a black, Pierre by name, who spoke
English and had been the captain's steward.  The first service he did me
was to act as interpreter, and as he knew where everything was stowed, I
thought he would be useful in other respects.  Through him I made a
polite speech to the captain, and told him that I was sorry to turn him
out of his ship, but that I was obeying orders.  He shrugged his
shoulders, observing that it was the fortune of war, when, bowing, he
followed his men over the side.  I wasn't sorry to get rid of the
Frenchmen, for it would have been a hard matter to keep them in order
and navigate the ship with the few hands I had.

"As soon as we had transferred the prisoners, the prizes were ordered to
make sail, and together we stood out of the bay.  A very pretty sight we
presented as we ran on under all sail, keeping, according to orders,
close to the _Augusta_.  Our prizes were richly laden, and the admiral,
as may be supposed, was highly pleased when we sighted him off Cape
Tiberon and Captain Forrest told him what we had done, as his share of
the prize would be something considerable.  Mine, as a midshipman, would
be a couple of hundred pounds; Mr Foley, as a lieutenant, will get two
or three thousand; so you may fancy what the shares of the captain and
admiral will be.

"Pierre was, I found, an excellent cook as well as steward.  I now
called him Peter, by-the-by, at his own request, for as he observed,
`Now, massa, I come among Englishmen I take English name, please;' and
so Peter he is now always called.  He was especially fond of keeping his
tongue wagging; he seemed not at all sorry to have changed masters, and
to have got on board a man-of-war instead of a merchantman.  He said
that on their voyage out, when coming through the Windward Passage, the
_Flora_ and another vessel, the _Cerf_, of smaller size, carrying only
eight guns, had been attacked by a piratical craft.  They fought for
some time, when the _Flora_ made off, leaving the _Cerf_ to her fate--
that the pirates boarded her, and that he had seen her go down--that the
pirate ship then made chase after the _Flora_, but by carrying all sail,
and night coming on, she escaped.  By Peter's account, I suspect that
she must be the same craft which attacked the _Ouzel Galley_.  Peter
says she has a crew of a hundred men and carries twenty guns.  She is
known to have captured several merchantmen; some she sends to the
bottom, and others she takes into one of the numerous keys among the
Bahamas, where they are hidden away as securely as they would be among
the unknown islands of the Pacific or Indian Ocean.  From various things
which Peter said, I had an idea that he knew more about the pirate than
he had hitherto communicated, and I determined, when I had more
completely gained his confidence, to try and obtain all the information
he possessed.

"The weather continued fine, and our little squadron making good way, we
were all soon safely at anchor in Port Royal harbour.  It was a jovial
sight, let me tell you, as we sailed in with English colours above the
French on board the prizes, the guns firing, the flags flying, and the
people on shore cheering.  We at once carried the prizes up to Kingston,
where they were quickly sold for good round sums, for they were all
richly laden.  As soon as I get my prize-money, I intend to send it home
to father.  Tell him to do as he thinks best with it; I don't want to
spend it here, as many of our men probably will before long.  The
Jamaica people seldom get so good a haul as this, though prizes are
being brought in almost every week.  Where the money all goes to, I
don't know; it makes somebody rich, I suppose.

"I was disappointed at not seeing Mr and Miss Ferris, and so, I have no
doubt, was Mr Foley, for we thought that they would be back here by
this time; but they are still away on the other side of the island.  I
don't think I told you that there had been a hurricane here, while we
were cruising off Cape Francois, before our action with the Frenchmen.
It was not felt very severely at this end of the island, as they only
got the whisk of its tail; but at the west end it did a great deal of
damage, and a number of people were killed and wounded, though I am
happy to say that our friends escaped any injury.  The _Ouzel Galley_, I
understand, had sailed, and, I hope, had got well to the eastward before
it came on.  I dare say that Owen Massey will have told you all about it
long before you get this.  The worst news I have to give you is
respecting the slaves, who are in a very rebellious state.  It is
rumoured that in one or two places they have attacked the whites' houses
and killed several people; but this is not believed, and it is said that
they know too well what a fearful punishment would overtake them were
they to do anything of the sort.

"To return to my own proceedings.  As soon as I had handed the _Flora_
over to the prize agent, I had to turn again into a midshipman and to go
on board our own tight little sloop, which had just come out of dock and
was now all ataunto, ready for sea.  I got leave to take Peter with me,
as he wished to enter on board a British ship of war; he was at once
appointed midshipmen's steward, and a better one we never had.

"Mr Foley was hoping that we should be sent to cruise off the north
coast of the island, but instead of that we were ordered to carry
despatches to Commodore Moore, who commands on the Leeward Islands
station.  Having delivered them, we were on our way back, when we fell
in with the _Buckingham_, Captain Tyrrell.  While in company with her we
captured a French merchantman, and her crew being brought on board our
ship, Peter heard from some of them that four privateers had run in for
shelter under a strong battery in Grand Anar Bay, on the island of
Martinico.  He having told me, I at once gave information to our
commander, who forthwith went on board the _Buckingham_ to communicate
it to Captain Tyrrell, and he at once resolved to stand in and destroy
the privateers and the fort.  Our prisoners, who had no idea that what
they had been talking about had been understood, were very much
astonished at seeing us suddenly alter our course and steer in for the
bay.  There, sure enough, were the four privateers with springs on their
cables, and their guns run out, anchored under a strong-looking fort,
mounting ten guns at least.  The _Buckingham_ ran in as close as she
could venture, when she dropped her anchor, and we brought up under her
stern and immediately began blazing away at the vessels, which, as well
as the fort, opened fire on us.  Though the privateers each mounted not
less than twenty guns, they could not long stand the _Buckingham's_
heavy shot; indeed, had we been alone we should have taken them.  Still,
thinking that the fort would drive us away, they held out longer than we
had expected.  Though we were struck several times, and a good many
round shot passed between our masts, not a man on board was hit.  We
were wondering when they would give in, when, as a puff of air cleared
the smoke off for a few seconds, we observed that one of them had a list
to starboard.  Her next broadside again concealed her from view, and in
a couple of minutes, when the wind again blew away the smoke, all we
could see were her masts as she slowly went to the bottom.  I was
expecting that the rest would share the same fate; one of them was to
meet with a more terrible disaster--almost the next instant a thundering
sound was heard, flames burst out of her deck, her masts shot upwards
like sky-rockets, and the whole air seemed filled with fragments of
wreck, which came hissing down into the water, several portions,
whizzing through the air, reaching almost to where we lay.  The other
two, seeing the hopelessness of further resistance, after firing their
broadsides, hauled down their colours.  On this the _Buckingham_ made a
signal to us to take possession of the two vessels.  `Out boats!' was
the order; and in another minute three of our boats, I having charge of
one of them, were dashing through the calm water, while the _Buckingham_
continued engaging the fort, which still held out.  Two or three of its
guns, however, had been disabled, and its fire began to slacken.  We
pulled away as fast as the crews could lay their backs to the oars,
fearing that the Frenchmen would set fire to the ships and deprive us of
our prizes.  Their boats were already in the water, and the men were
tumbling into them, evidently in a hurry to make their escape.  `Look
out, lads; that the rascals play no tricks, and lose no time in seeing
that all's safe below!' sang out Mr Foley, as he dashed by in the gig
towards the northernmost of the vessels.  I was making for the one to
the southward, the farthest from the fort.  We were soon up to her, and
as we scrambled up on one side we saw several of her crew toppling over
on the other.  Just then I caught sight of a man coming up the
companion-hatchway; it struck me that he had been about some mischief,
and leaping on him, I tumbled him down to the foot of the ladder.  He
had a slow-match in his hand, which, hissing and spluttering, set his
clothes on fire.

"`What have you been about, you rascal?'  I exclaimed, though I don't
suppose he understood the question.  He pointed to the door of a cabin
from which smoke was issuing.  I burst it open, and found a match
lighted, leading to a suspicious-looking cask in the corner.  I, as you
may suppose, pulled it out in pretty quick time; and, throwing it into
the middle of the main cabin, sang out for buckets of water.  A couple
were quickly handed down, and the fire was extinguished.  In another
moment, however, we should all have been blown into the air.  The
Frenchman, who proved to be the mate of the vessel, was severely burnt,
but little compassion was felt for him.  We secured him, and two other
men, who were caught by the legs as they were leaping overboard.

"Our men had begun to fire at the boats which had shoved off, but I
ordered them to desist, as the Frenchmen had hauled down their flag, and
were perfectly right in trying to make their escape.

"As soon as the garrison of the fort saw that we had possession of the
vessels, they opened fire at us with one of their guns.  On this, Mr
Foley ordered me to cut the cable of my prize, and make sail out of
harm's way, as the wind was sufficiently off shore to enable us to do
so.  He at the same time, I saw, was setting the canvas of the ship he
had taken.

"The _Buckingham_ and _Champion_ having now only the fort to attend to,
poured in so hot a fire on it that the gun which was annoying us was
dismounted before we had been under way more than four or five minutes.
So we again brought up and turned our guns at the fort, which was
gradually crumbling away before the iron shower thrown into it.  As the
Frenchmen still kept up a hot fire from four or five guns, which
considerably annoyed the _Buckingham_, Captain Tyrrell ordered the boats
away to storm the fort and put an end to the conflict.  I immediately
jumped into my boat, leaving the prize at anchor to take care of
herself, and joined the others, which were pulling to the shore on that
side of the fort where the chief breach had been effected, and where
none of the remaining guns could reach us and out of range of
musket-shot.  Captain Tyrrell himself, I found, was heading the party.
We mustered altogether upwards of a hundred and fifty men, about forty
of whom belonged to our ship, with Mr Foley and other officers.  The
marines quickly formed, flanked by our blue jackets, armed with muskets,
cutlasses, and pistols.  The instant the last man leaped on shore, the
order to advance was given, and up the hill we went at double quick
march, in spite of a shower of musket balls which came whizzing about
our ears.  The Frenchmen endeavoured to slew round some of their guns to
fire down on us, but before the muzzles were run through the embrasures,
we were climbing over the parapet in a somewhat helter-skelter fashion,
and, headed by the gallant captain of the _Buckingham_, leaping down
into the fort.  So rapid had been our advance that the soldiers had no
time to reload their pieces, and as our cutlasses flashed in their
faces, they hurled them at us and took to flight, endeavouring to make
their way out at a gate on the land side, where, in their hurry, they
got jammed together and stopped by part of the crews of the two
privateers, who were coming in to their assistance.  Fortunately for
them, their commandant, after exchanging a few passes with Captain
Tyrrell, had been disarmed and made prisoner; and he, seeing that if
followed by our men they would be cut to pieces, shouted out to them to
come back and submit as he had done.  Still they pushed on, and in their
struggles to get out, toppled over each other till a dozen or more lay
sprawling on the ground.  They would there have been destroyed had not
Captain Tyrrell humanely called off his people.  Of the whole of our
party, not a man had been killed, and a few only were wounded.  The fort
exhibited a woeful picture of ruin--nearly a score of men lay dead close
to the guns, while we saw other corpses scattered about in different
parts of the fort.  The buildings which served as habitations for the
garrison were shattered to pieces, the embrasures knocked into one, the
guns dismounted and their carriages broken, the flagstaff shot in two--
indeed, it seemed a wonder that the Frenchmen could have held out so
long.

"We could see from the ramparts a good-sized town on the banks of a
river, some way from the shore, sheltered by groves of palms and other
trees--a very attractive, pleasant-looking place.  Finding themselves
masters of the fort, our men gave three cheers; then the cry arose that
they should go down and attack the town and pillage it.  When the
captain heard this, he shouted out to the men, `My fine fellows, I hear
what you say, and I hope you will not longer think of doing that same.
You will agree that it is beneath us to make a number of poor people
miserable by destroying their houses and such comforts of life as they
possess.  Remember, you are Englishmen, and should scorn to injure
people who, though they are called our enemies, have not lifted even a
finger against us.  Let them remain in quiet; they will bless you, and
wish you well.'

"This considerate speech had a good effect.  The men cheered, and said
they had no wish to hurt the mounseers.  The captain, allowing the
commandant to follow his people, who had made their escape, then set us
to work to demolish the fort.  The guns which appeared serviceable were
spiked, and then rolled down the hill into the sea, and mines were dug
in different parts of the fort, in which all the powder we found in the
magazine was stowed.  A train was then laid to each mine, and we were
ordered to march down to the boats.  Captain Tyrrell, who had
superintended all the operations himself, was the last to leave; he
lighted the train, and then followed us.  We hadn't got many yards from
the beach when a loud report was heard, and up went a part of the fort,
quickly followed by the other portions, like the joints in a cracker;
and when the smoke and dust cleared off, the whole spot where the fort
had stood was a heap of ruins.  It would take the Frenchmen a good many
weeks to repair the damage, if they should ever think it worth while to
make the attempt.

"The wind was so light that we were unable to get out of the bay; in the
evening we saw a boat coming off to us with a flag of truce.  She
contained two of the principal inhabitants of the town, who brought with
them a cargo of fowls, and vegetables, and fruit, which they begged the
captain to accept as a mark of their gratitude for his having spared
their town.  They added that another would shortly follow for the
corvette.  Captain Tyrrell made a suitable speech, accepting their
present.  The other boats soon arrived with the promised supply for us,
and as we took leave in the most friendly manner of the people who
brought it, no one would have supposed the sort of work we had been
engaged in during the morning.

"A land breeze enabled us to get to sea that evening, when soon
afterwards we parted company with the _Buckingham_, we shaping a course
back to Jamaica.  We were all very jolly on board, for we had plenty of
provisions, and had unexpectedly come in for a nice little lump of
prize-money.

"I must tell you that Peter had become a great favourite on board, and
of this he himself seemed well aware, though he wisely never presumed on
it.  I had, as I told you, been curious to find out how he was so well
acquainted with the haunts of the pirates.  At last, one day, I asked
him, when I happened to be alone in the berth and he had come to get
something out of a locker.

"`Me tell you, Massa Tracy, for me now know berry well you my friend,'
he answered.

"`You're right, Peter,' I replied, `and you may be sure that from
nothing you say will you criminate yourself.'

"`Me only tell de truth on de honour of gentleman;' and Peter put his
hand on his heart as he had seen the Frenchmen do.

"`Heave ahead, Peter,' I said, `or your yarn may be out short.'

"`Berry well, Massa Tracy,' said Peter.  `It happen dis way.  I was
'board a French ship, _Les deux Amis_, bound from Bordeaux to Port au
Prince, when just as we 'bout twenty league to de eastward ob San
Domingo, keeping a look-out dat no English cruiser pick us up, we see
one evening, just as de sun go down, a big ship from de nor'ard standing
for us.  De cappen say she French--de mate say she Spanish--some ob de
men say she Dutch--oders strife she English--I not know what to tink.
De cappen say, "Best make all sail and stand 'way."  So we did; but de
bell just strike two in de fust watch, when we see her ranging up
alongside.  Den de cappen order de guns to be fired; but before de
matches lighted, de stranger she aboard us.  In a few minutes forty
savage-looking fellows came springing on to our deck, pistolling some
and cutting down oders of de crew.  I see at once what going to happen--
if I stay on board de brig, I be killed wid de rest--so I make a leap
and gain de fore-rigging ob de stranger.  Running for'ard, I leap down
de hatchway and stow myself away in a berth.  Eben dere I hear de
dreadful cries and shrieks ob de crew as dey put to death by de
pirates--for such I guess be de gentry into hands whose we hab fallen.
I know by de sounds I hear as I lie quaking in de berth dat dey were
removing de cargo ob de prize on board dere own ship.  It was nearly
daylight before dey hab taken out all de cargo dey wish to secure; den
dey cast off, and directly afterwards I hear several shot fired.  I know
dat sooner or later I must show myself, as de watch who hab been working
all night would be coming below to turn in; so I creep on deck, and make
my way aft to where a man I tink must be de cappen was standing.  No one
stop me, for dey all too busy or too sleepy to notice me.  I take off my
hat and make him a polite bow, and ask in English if he want a
cabin-steward, as I ready to serve him.  "And if you like sea-pie,
cappen, I cook one such as nobody can beat, let me tell you dat," I say.
"I head cook."'

"`You're an impudent rascal, whoever you are,' he reply, `but perhaps,
for once in a way, you speak the truth.'

"`Do, cappen, just try me to-morrow, or next day, or when you get de
materials to put in de pie,' I say.

"`I'll think about that, my man,' he answer, licking him lips.  And den
I know I all safe.  `He not kill me if he tink I make good sea-pie,' I
say to myself; `for black fellow sometimes more cunning dan white
buccra--he! he! he!'  Peter chuckled.  `Where do you come from?' he ask.

"`I tell him I carried off and made to serve on board de French ship,
and dat I glad to escape from her.  Dis not quite true, but I guess it
make him more ready to save my life.'

"`Well,' he say, `I happen to want a steward, and if you prove to be
what you say you are, and can cook as well as you boast that you can,
I'll take you into my service; but if not, it will be the worse for
you.'

"`He den ask sharply, "What do you take this ship for, boy?"'

"`Of course, sar, English man-o'-war,' I answer--though I know berry
well dat not true.

"`You haven't quite hit it, but you'll be much better off than if she
was,' he say, tinking me simple lad who no do any mischief.  He den
shout out to de crew on deck, and tell dem not to harm me.  Just den, as
I look ober de side, I catch a glimpse of de brig which we were leaving
settling down, and in anoder minute de water close ober de mast-heads.
Den I tink I act berry wise in getting on board de pirate.  De cappen
den send me down into de cabin to look after de tings dere and put it in
order, saying dat his oder steward been killed in an action a few days
before.  We were now, I found, steering to de nor'-west.  Two or tree
days after dis we take anoder prize, which was robbed ob eberyting ob
value on board, and was den treated same as _Les deux Amis_ had been.  I
was very glad to get off wid my life, but I berry much wish myself out
of de ship again, and determined to make my 'scape as soon as I hab
opportunity.

"`De cappen each day ask me when I going to make de sea-pie.  I always
say, "When I get de fowls, and de turkeys, and de ham, and de oder tings
to put in it.  But I make you some lobscouse in de mean time," I say.
And so I did; and he and de mates say dey nebber taste such good
lobscouse in dere lives.  "Ah! not equal to de sea-pie I make some day
or oder," I answer; for I know as long as I promise de sea-pie dey not
kill me.  I only hope in de mean time no man-o'-war get hold ob us; if
she did, I should be hung up wid de rest, and de judges not believe I
come on board 'cause oderwise I drown, and stay only to make a sea-pie.
We soon get near an island, which I guess was one ob de Bahamas from de
way de ship was steered, now in one direction, now in anoder, between
rocks and sandbanks.  De cappen ask me if I know where we were.  I say,
"I suppose we somewhere on de Spanish Main."'

"All right," he answer; "maybe you're not much of a navigator?"

"`Poor nigger like me know berry little 'cept how to make sea-pie,' I
say.  He den order me to go below, and soon afterwards I hear de roar ob
de breakers, and I know we'd got near the shore.  Den de ship sail on
and I guess we'd got into a harbour; but she did not come to an anchor,
but sail on and on.  Den, looking up through the skylight, I see de
boughs ob de green trees oberhead, and a high cliff which seem about to
topple down on de deck ob de ship.  Still we sail on and on, till at
last I hear de anchor let go and de cable run out, and when I come on
deck I find de ship in a wide lagoon wid several oder vessels and some
large boats, and a village ob huts and sheds under de trees on de shore.
I now know dat I was in one ob de old buccaneer hiding-places, and I
guess dat de vessels I see were dose de pirates had capture and carry
off.  When the sails were furled I go up to the cappen and ask if he
wish me to go on shore to buy some poultry and vegetables and oder tings
I might require for de sea-pie.

"`No, no; you stay on board,' he answered.  `I'll send off for
materials, and we shall then see what you can do.'

"`I pretend to be well pleased, and tell him all de tings I want.  Dat
evening plenty of provisions came on board.  Dere were--let me see--
butter-birds and whistling ducks, snipe, red-tailed pigeons, turkeys,
clucking hens, parrots, and plantation coots; dere was beef and pork and
venison, and papaw fruit, squash, and plantains, calavansas, bananas,
yams, Indian pepper, ginger, and all sorts ob oder tings.  I pick out
what I know make de best pie, putting in plenty of pepper--for dat, I
guess, would suit de taste ob de genelmen--and den I cover the whole
ober wid thick crust.  It take de night and the next day to bake, and
when it am ready de cappen and his officers, and some friends from de
shore, dey all say dat dey nebber eat any pie like it; and I laugh, and
say, "I make better one anoder day."  Dey all eat till dey could eat no
more, and den drink to wash it down till one and all am so drunk dat dey
couldn't lift up dere heads.  When I see dis, I say to myself, "Now's
the best time for me to try and be off;" and I put a piece ob de pie
into a basket, and a calabash of water, and going on deck I see a small
canoe made fast to de side.  I drop it under de stern, and den go back
into the cabin.  Ebery one ob dem am still fast asleep; so I lowered de
basket into de canoe from one ob de after-ports, and slip down myself
widout making any noise.  Cutting de painter, I let de canoe drift away
before the breeze, which blew down the lagoon.  I hab watch during de
day one or two boats coming in, so I know the entrance, and as soon as I
get to a distance from de vessels I paddle away as fast as I could.  I
might hab a long distance to go before daylight, but as it was only just
dark dere would be plenty ob time.  I expected ebery moment to be
ober-hauled by de sentries on de shore, but no one was dere, or, at all
events, dey not see me.  On I go till I get under de cliffs which I see
when de ship come in--den I know I in de right passage.  Dere was a
current, too, by which I judge dat de tide was ebbing.  Next I find
myself between low banks, for de whole country towards de sea am flat.
At last I hear de waves breaking on de shore--not very loud, though; dat
makes me hope dat de water smooth.  I soon reach de entrance ob de
creek, and safely pass de bar.  I determine to paddle to de southward; I
hab water and provisions to last me for a week or more, and before dat
time I hope to get aboard an English or French vessel--it matter berry
little to me.  When morning break I look out astern, but could see no
boat or vessel, and I hope I not pursued; as I was well out ob sight ob
land, even if I was, de pirates would hab a difficult job to find me.
De sea remain smooth, or my canoe, which was only intended for de
lagoon, would hab been swamped.  When my pie nearly gone and what remain
was scarcely eatable, I see a vessel standing to de westward.  De wind
was light, and by paddling hard I might reach her.  I did paddle, for I
no hab a drop ob water in my calabash, and if I miss her I might die ob
thirst.  On she come, and de breeze freshen.  I was coming from de
north--she was crossing my course; I shriek and shout--already she
nearly pass me; I stand up in my canoe and wave my paddle--den again I
sit down and pull away like mad.  Again I stand up and shout wid all my
might and wave my paddle.  I praise God, dey see me; de vessel round to,
and in a few minutes I alongside.  De cappen ask me where I come from.
I tell him I escape from some pirates who would hab cut my throat if I
hadn't known how to make sea-pie, and dat I make one for him as soon as
I get opportunity.  He laugh, and say dat he believe my story, and dat
he gib me a trial.  He nebber do so, however, 'cause you capture his
vessel before I get de necessary materials.--And now, Massa Tracy, you
know my history.'

"From the account Peter gave me, I strongly suspected that the vessel
which had captured him was the one which attacked the _Ouzel Galley_,
and I wished that we might have an opportunity of looking for her.  The
captain was, Peter had told me, an Englishman, as were many of the
people with him; but there were others of all nations, as well as
mulattoes, Sambos, and blacks.  The descendants of the buccaneers still
inhabit many of the keys on the Bahama bank, and probably the white
population living on shore were some of those people, who keep up the
customs and habits of their ancestors.  I must try and learn more from
Peter on the subject, and ascertain exactly where he was picked up by
the _Flora_.  If so, calculating the distance he had come in the canoe,
we might be able to discover the hiding-place of the pirates.  We have
been some time getting back to Port Royal, and as the _Narcissus_ is
just sailing for England, I must close this to send by her.  We received
some bad news on our arrival; the blacks are actually in rebellion and
have committed all sorts of mischief, murdering the whites and all who
oppose them in every direction.  We're ordered off to the north coast.
Mr Foley was very anxious to go there, but he is now in a great state
of agitation lest any harm should have befallen our friends; and well he
may be--indeed, I can't help feeling very anxious myself.  Still, I
don't want you to be frightened, Norah, and I hope all will go well, and
that we shall find when we get there that the blacks have not attacked
Mr Twigg's house.  With best love to father, and kind regards to Mrs
Massey and Owen, if he has arrived, as I make no doubt he will have long
ago--

"I remain--

"Your affectionate brother--

"Gerald Tracy."



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

NORAH'S AND CAPTAIN TRACY'S ANXIETY AT NON-ARRIVAL OF THE OUZEL GALLEY--
HER OWNERS GIVE HER UP AS LOST--THE UNDERWRITERS REFUSE PAYMENT OF
INSURANCE--THE MATTER SUBMITTED TO ARBITRATION--CAPTAIN TRACY INVITED TO
DUBLIN--HE IS STILL CONVINCED THAT THE OUZEL GALLEY WILL APPEAR--THE
ARBITRATORS MEET AT A DINNER TO DISCUSS THE SUBJECT AND AGREE TO AWAIT
EVENTS--CAPTAIN TRACY RETURNS HOME--REPORTED LOSS OF THE CHAMPION--
CAPTAIN TRACY RESOLVES TO GO IN SEARCH OF THE OUZEL GALLEY AND
CHAMPION--NORAH GETS LEAVE TO GO WITH HIM--THE RESEARCH PURCHASED--
CAPTAIN O'BRIEN GOES TO BRISTOL TO OBTAIN HANDS--A STRANGER BRINGS A
MESSAGE FROM A DYING SHIPMATE--A MESSAGE FROM O.M.--FERRIS, TWIGG, AND
CASH SUPPLY FUNDS--CAPTAIN O'BRIEN RETURNS, AND SAILS ON BOARD THE
RESEARCH.

Interesting as Gerald's letter was to Norah and her father, it caused
them the greatest possible anxiety.  Owen had sailed some considerable
time before it was written, and he had not yet arrived!  Poor Norah
scarcely dared ask herself what had happened.  Had the _Ouzel Galley_
been overtaken by the hurricane?  Gerald at the same time appeared
certain that she had escaped it, and if she had, by what cause was she
delayed?  Had she been captured by the enemy?  That was too probable;
but, then, Owen would surely have found means of sending a letter to
England describing the event.  Captain Tracy immediately wrote to the
house in Dublin, but they had heard nothing of the ship.

"Oh, father!" exclaimed Norah at length, in a tone which showed her
alarm, "can he have fallen into the hands of those terrible pirates of
whom Gerald speaks?"

"The _Ouzel Galley_ was too well manned, and, I may venture to say,
would have been too well handled and fought, to yield to a rascally
buccaneering craft," answered Captain Tracy.  "No, no, Norah, don't let
that thought trouble you; she may have been dismasted in a gale of
wind--no skill can at all times prevent such an accident--or she may
have met with long calms in the tropics and contrary winds afterwards.
Wait a bit, cushla machree, and she'll come in some fine morning when we
least expect her."

Still the old captain himself was sadly troubled about the matter.
Norah could with difficulty keep up her spirits, though she tried to do
so for her father's sake and for that of Mrs Massey, to whom she
endeavoured not to communicate her own alarm; but the poor mother had
begun to feel as anxious as she was, and every time Norah went to see
her, her first utterance was, "No news of Owen yet?"  Then she would
sigh, and the tears would trickle down her pale cheeks.  The captain
paid daily visits to Waterford, carefully examining the public papers to
ascertain if anything had been heard of the _Ouzel Galley_; but week
after week and month after month went by, yet nothing was heard of her.
Captain Tracy again wrote to Ferris, Twigg, and Cash; in their answer
they said that, having waited so long a time without hearing of her,
they considered her lost, and were about to apply to the underwriters to
pay over the amount of her insurance.  Captain Tracy, who, though
holding the firm in great respect, was nevertheless always free and
outspoken, replied that he did not consider the vessel as lost, and that
she might even now some day appear.  He had expressed himself in a
similar manner to one of the underwriters, who was then at Waterford;
and when the firm applied for payment, that gentleman declined acceding
to their demand till they could produce evidence of the loss of the
vessel.  Ferris, Twigg, and Cash became indignant, and talked of
instituting law proceedings.  On this, Mr Thompson, one of the
underwriters, entreated them to desist, and proposed that the matter
should be placed in the hands of arbitrators.  Mr Twigg and Mr Cash
agreed accordingly to postpone proceedings till they could hear from
their principal partner, Mr Ferris, who was still in Jamaica; and
finally consented, subject to his approval, to submit the matter to
arbitration.

"Then let us forthwith proceed to select a dozen good men and true
between us--you shall choose six and we'll choose six, and we'll bind
ourselves to abide by the decision to which they may come," said Mr
Thompson.  As it was considered in Ireland, as well as across the
Channel, that a good dinner enjoyed by sensible people produces good
feeling and good fellowship, it was agreed by the contending parties
that they should invite the twelve arbitrators and lay the matter of the
supposed loss of the _Ouzel Galley_ before them on that occasion.  As
Captain Tracy was rightly considered to be able to offer an enlightened
opinion on the subject, he was requested to come up to Dublin to afford
them all the information he possessed.  Though he hated the land
journey, and looked upon it as a more dangerous adventure than he would
a voyage round the world, he could not refuse to comply with their
request.  He therefore arranged to leave Norah with Mrs Massey, to
whom, though her own heart was well-nigh broken, she could afford
comfort and sympathy during his absence.  Packing up his valise, girding
his sword to his side, and sticking a brace of pistols in his belt under
his cloak, he set off by the stage, fully expecting to have to fight his
way through half a score of highwaymen and footpads at the least.
Still, thinking it possible that the _Ouzel Galley_ might arrive, he
sent a boat down the harbour the evening before his departure, which
returned only just as he was about to start with the information that no
_Ouzel Galley_ was in sight.

Notwithstanding his expectation of being attacked by Rapparees or other
robbers, he reached Dublin in safety, and was welcomed by Mr Twigg, who
took him to his own house that they might discuss together the subject
in hand.

"A sad affair this, the loss of our good ship.  We expected to realise a
fine percentage by her cargo, and now we not only lose that, but our
friends refuse to pay the insurance," observed the merchant.  "You
surely, Captain Tracy, must be convinced that she went down in the
hurricane, or has been captured and destroyed by the enemy."

"I am not at all convinced of either one or the other," answered Captain
Tracy, bluntly.  "She was, or, I may venture to say, she is, as
stout-built a ship ever floated, and I hold to the opinion that she
would not have foundered while any other craft could keep above water.
I hear, indeed, that two or three vessels which were caught in that same
hurricane, though severely damaged, got at last safely into port.  Mr
Ferris wrote word, as you are aware, sir, that, after a thorough
examination of the coast, no signs were discovered of her having been
driven on shore, as all the vessels wrecked were identified and she was
not among them.  If she had been captured by the enemy, her master, Owen
Massey, would have found means to communicate with us and let us know
that he and his people were prisoners.  By a letter from my son, I hear
that there are still some picarooning villains infesting those seas, but
they generally attack smaller fry than the _Ouzel Galley_.  She was, as
you are aware, well armed and well manned, and I can answer for it that
Owen Massey would not have been taken by surprise, and would have beaten
off in a fair fight any such craft, as he would any privateer of equal
or, I may venture to say, of considerably superior force.  His orders
were to avoid fighting if he could do so with due regard to his safety--
and I never knew him disobey orders from the time he first came to sea
with me."

"Then, from what you say, Captain Tracy, your opinion is opposed to the
interests of the firm," observed Mr Twigg, in a tone which showed that
he was somewhat annoyed.

"I express the opinion I hold, sir, and you never found Gerald Tracy say
or do anything contrary to the interests of his employers," answered the
captain firmly.  "What you want to obtain, sir, is a rightful decision;
and my belief and hope is that, if the insurance money were paid to you,
you would have to refund it."

"You only say what is true, captain, and you will pardon me for my
remark," exclaimed the merchant, who was really an upright and
generous-hearted man.  "Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than
to see the _Ouzel Galley_ coming in under charge of her young master,
with or without her cargo, however much thereby Ferris, Twigg, and Cash
might be out of pocket.  We'll now go and join our friends--and I beg
you to believe that nothing you may say will alter the respect in which
I hold you."

The matter on which the party had been assembled was soon discussed.
Some were of opinion that the _Ouzel Galley_ had been lost; others, that
she had been captured; while several held with Captain Tracy that she
was still afloat, perhaps dismasted or waterlogged, but that she would
in time find her way home.  One fact was certain, that she had not yet
made her appearance, and that nothing had been heard of her since she
was seen off Bellevue on the morning of the hurricane.  The important
point decided was that the two parties should on no account go to law,
and that they should wait a further decision till efforts had been made
to discover the fate of the missing ship, should she not in the mean
time return to port.  Mr Ferris was informed that she had not yet
arrived, and was requested to take all the steps he could devise for
discovering what had become of her.  Among others, he was to apply to
the admiral to ascertain if any British cruisers had seen or heard of
such a vessel in distress, while notice was to be sent on board every
merchantman begging the master to make inquiries concerning her, or to
afford any information he might already have obtained.

Captain Tracy, having concluded all the business he had to transact in
Dublin, went back to Waterford.  What a blessed thing is hope!  Poor
Norah and the widow were still supported by the expectation of the
_Ouzel Galley's_ return, even although every one else in Waterford
believed that she was long since at the bottom of the ocean.  Day after
day and week after week went by, and still the _Ouzel Galley_ did not
appear.  Norah's cheek was becoming thinner and paler, and the widow's
heart sadder and sadder.  It seemed hard indeed to lose her only child;
but she trusted in God.  She knew that He orders all for the best, and
not once did she allow her heart to entertain rebellious thoughts
against His love and mercy.  Anxiously did the captain and Norah look
out for letters from Jamaica; they hoped that Gerald would send them
information.  At all events, it would be a satisfaction to hear from
him; but since his last long letter, none arrived.  News was received
from other sources of a fearful insurrection in the island, but Norah
got no letters from Ellen, and hearing that numerous white people had
fallen victims, she began seriously to fear that her friend might be
among them.  The captain wrote to Dublin, but the house there had not
heard from Mr Ferris.  At length another report came which added much
to their anxiety, and if found to be true must plunge them into deep
grief.  It was to the effect that his Majesty's ship _Champion_, having
sailed from Jamaica on a cruise, had not since been heard of.

"She'll turn up," exclaimed the captain, when he brought home the
intelligence, which it would be useless to attempt concealing from
Norah.  The news appeared in print in the public papers, and an opinion
was expressed that she had not been captured by the enemy, it being
thought more likely that she had been capsized in a squall and gone
down, or run during a dark night on one of the numerous reefs in the
seas she was navigating and been dashed to pieces before any of her
people could escape.

"I won't believe it, any more than I'll believe that the _Ouzel Galley_
is lost," exclaimed the captain.  "Don't give way, Norah.  These
newspapers tell lies; they're published for no other object.  I
shouldn't be surprised if we hear that the _Champion_ has never been
missing, and that the admiral has sent her on some particular service;
probably the next packet from Jamaica will give us an account of her
return to Port Royal."

Still poor Norah could not restrain her tears.  "I don't believe that
she's lost, Norah.  Don't, now!" repeated her father.  The captain,
indeed, did his best to comfort her, but it was a hard matter for him;
especially as he himself, notwithstanding his bold assertions, knew how
likely it was that the sloop of war had really been lost.  His honest
heart was racked with grief as he thought that the days of his gallant
young son had been cut short.  Fresh despatches arrived from Jamaica,
detailing the capture of several of the enemy's ships, the return to
port of various British cruisers, and the arrival of merchantmen; but
not a word was said about the _Champion_.  Further despatches arrived,
which appeared in the public prints.  A short paragraph alone mentioned
that all hope of her safety had been given up, while another spoke
somewhat pityingly of the vain notion entertained by a former commander
of a well-known Jamaica trader, the _Ouzel Galley_, that that vessel was
still in existence.  "Indeed," it continued, "go certain it is that she
must be lost, that the masters and pilots of the vessels trading in
those seas have ceased to make inquiries about her."

"I hold to my opinion, notwithstanding," exclaimed the captain; "if
others refuse to help in looking for the good ship, I'll go myself.
There's an old proverb that the man who wants a thing goes for it
himself, and I'll not believe that either Owen or Gerald are lost till
I've had a thorough hunt for them.  I've cash enough of my own to fit
out a stout vessel, and to arm and man her too.  I intended it for you,
Norah, and Gerald, but there'll be sufficient left for what you may
want, my poor child, even if it comes to the worst; and you must stay at
home and take care of Widow Massey--you've need to comfort each other."

"No, father, if you go I will go; and go I hope you will," said Norah.
"Would that you had ten times as much fortune to fit out as many vessels
to search round the shores of the whole Atlantic.  And, father, you'll
take me with you?  I must go; I should die with anxiety were I to remain
behind.  In the voyage I took with you I learnt all about a sea life.  I
know the various dangers I may have to go through, but I don't fear
them; I am ready to endure whatever perils you may be exposed to, and
I'll not flinch from them."

Thus Norah argued with her father.

"But Mrs Massey--what will she do without you?" he asked.

"She would not detain me.  Am not I going to assist in the search for
her son, as well as in that for Gerald?" answered Norah.  "Were I Owen
Massey's younger brother, she would not hesitate to send me; she will
not do so now.  She has too long lived a life of solitude to object to
being left for a few short months, especially when she can hope that
Owen may be found."

Norah had gained her point.  The old captain was really thankful to have
her society, and so often had he braved the dangers of the sea that he
no longer feared them for his daughter.  Firm as the captain was in his
opinion, few others agreed with him; and when it was known that he was
looking out for a ship, most of his acquaintance pitied him, and
whispered that the loss of his son had turned his head.  Still, nothing
any one could say changed his resolution; indeed, there was something
grand in his very obstinacy, and worthy of admiration.  The only person
who stuck to him was Captain O'Brien.

"If I were a younger man, faith, I'd be after going out as mate,"
exclaimed the brave old captain.  "Whether the lads are alive or dead,
the point will be settled, and I am fain to believe that they are still
alive.  If I can't go myself, I'll prove my faith in the undertaking by
subscribing five hundred pounds towards it.  The sooner you get the ship
fitted out and put to sea, the better it will be for my friend Norah--of
that I'm very sure."

Though the two old captains were thus of one mind, no one else agreed
with them.  The house of Ferris, Twigg, and Cash would have nothing to
do with the matter; they were not inclined to send good money after bad,
and unless they could gain some information, however slight, that the
_Ouzel Galley_ was really in existence, they should consider it folly to
send another vessel to look for her.  They would not even help in
searching for a fitting vessel.  Captain Tracy, however, heard of one
which had been brought into Cork harbour as a prize, and, accompanied by
his friend O'Brien, he went over to have a look at her.  She was just
the vessel they wanted; she was ship-rigged, carried twenty guns, and
was quite new, having been only a few weeks out of port when she was
captured.  She was of great beam, and would carry four or six more guns,
if necessary.  The purchase was soon completed; and the two captains,
having engaged a few hands to navigate her, brought her round to
Waterford, where she could be fitted out under their own eyes.  One of
the points to be settled was her name.  Captain O'Brien, bowing to
Norah, proposed that she should be called _Love's Messenger_; but to
this Norah objected, and it was finally settled that she should be
called the _Research_.  The captain had devoted Gerald's prize-money,
and the whole sum he had at his own disposal, and the amount contributed
by Captain O'Brien; but still a sum was required for ammunition, stores,
and the wages of the crew.  Captain Tracy was in a dilemma; he might
obtain a cargo for the vessel, but then he would have to wait for a
convoy, as no insurance could otherwise be effected on her, and that
would cause a delay.  Rather than suffer this, he resolved to sell his
patrimony, though very unwilling to do so.  Captain O'Brien, who had
formerly traded to Bristol, had gone over to that port to look out for
efficient officers and any good men he could find to form part of the
crew; the remainder could be obtained at Waterford.

Captain Tracy was setting off one morning, resolved to make the final
arrangements with his lawyer for the disposal of his property, when just
as he left his house he was accosted by a man, whose ragged dress,
shoeless feet, and thin cheeks showed that he was suffering from the
extreme of poverty.  Captain Tracy's well-practised eye convinced him at
once, before the man had spoken, that he was a sailor, and believing
that he came to beg, he put his hand into his pocket to relieve his
necessities, when the man, touching his battered hat, addressed him,
"Plase, yer honour, are you Captain Tracy?"

"I am.  What is it you want with me?" asked the captain.

"Shure, I'm glad to hear it, for I've been looking for yer honour for
many a day," answered the man, "as I've made a vow, if you were still in
the land of the living, to give you a message from a dying shipmate, and
my mind couldn't rest aisy till I'd done it."

"What's the message, my friend?  Is it a long or a short one?" asked the
captain, eyeing the man steadily, to judge whether he was speaking with
sincerity or uttering a falsehood.  "What ship did you belong to, my
friend?"

"The _Fair Rosamond_, yer honour, homeward-bound from Port Royal.  We
met with misfortunes from the time of sailing.  We had Yellow Jack
aboard us; then a course of foul wind, and when about a hundred leagues
from the chops of the Channel, we were dismasted in a heavy gale; and at
last, after driving about for many a day till we ran short of water and
provisions, we were cast on the coast of Connemara, and only I and three
others got to shore--the captain and the rest of the hands who were left
alive, for Heaven hadn't spared many of them, were washed away and
drowned.  I was like to have died too, but some country people took care
of me, and I pulled through; and then, remembering my vow, I set off
without a shiner in my pocket to give the message to yer honour."

"Come in, my friend," said the captain, by this time convinced that the
man was speaking the truth, and becoming anxious to hear what he had got
to say.  The stranger looked at his ragged garments and hesitated when
the captain invited him into the parlour, where Norah was seated, and
bade him take a chair; however, plucking up courage, he did as he was
desired.  Captain Tracy having briefly told Norah what he had just
heard, turned to the seaman.

"You have not yet given me your name," he said.

"It's Larry Cregan, yer honour.  You may trust to what I say, for I
wouldn't desave yer honour, that I wouldn't," answered the man.

"Well, Larry, let me hear all about this message," said the captain,
"for you haven't given me a hint yet what it is."

"Well, thin, yer honour, it's nothing but the truth I'll spake," began
Larry.  "We had well-nigh half our crew pressed out of the _Fair
Rosamond_, and had to make up our number with such hands as the captain
could get without being over particular.  Among them was a countryman of
mine--Tim Reardon, he called himself.  He looked mighty sickly when he
came aboard, and we hadn't been many days at sea before he grew worse.
He wasn't fit for work; but we were short-handed, and he had to stick to
his duty.  And says I to myself, `Tim Reardon isn't long for this life,
and so I'll do my best to help him;' and when he was aloft or whatever
he had to do, I always kept near him, and helped him many a time when he
hadn't strength to pull and haul by himself.  This won his heart and
made him wish, as he said, to do me a good turn; but that wasn't ever
likely to be in his power.  He grew worse and worse, and at last could
no longer crawl upon deck.  I used to sit by him when it was my watch
below, and spake such words to comfort him as I could think of.  One
day, howsomdever, he says to me, `Larry, I've got something on my
conscience, and something else in my pocket which I want you to take
charge of.'

"`Anything to serve ye, Tim,' says I.

"`I've been an outrageous wicked fellow all my life, and have done all
sorts of bad things,' says Tim.  `I've consorted with pirates, and have
seen many a robbery and cruel murther committed--but I won't talk of
that now.  I can't do much good, I'm afraid, but what I can I wish to
do, what I'd made up my mind some time ago, when I was well-nigh dying
and should have slipped my cable if it hadn't been for the care I
received from a countryman, who took pity on me and nursed me as if I'd
been his brother.  As I got better he told me to cheer up, as he felt
sure I should live.  "Now, Tim," says he, "if you ever get to Old
Ireland, I want you to find out Captain Tracy, who lives near to
Waterford, and tell him that I am alive, and, please Heaven, will one
day get back to see him and his daughter.  I can't tell him whereabouts
to look for me, for the best of reasons, that I don't know where I am--
nor have I any chance of making my escape; but you, Tim, may some day
get free, and promise me, if you do, that you will take this message to
Captain Tracy, and say that hope keeps me alive."'

"`But maybe Captain Tracy won't believe me?' says I.  `If he doesn't,
his daughter will; and to make sure, take this bit of paper and show it
them,' he replied.  He wrote two letters on it; it was but a scrap, but
it was the only piece he had.  I put it in my 'baccy-box to keep it
safe.  Not two days after that I managed to make my escape, and, getting
back to Jamaica, looked out for a homeward-bound vessel.  As luck would
have it, I shipped aboard the _Fair Rosamond_; and now, as death is
hauling away at the tow-line, and I have no chance of fulfilling my
promise, if you wish to do me a service and keep my soul quiet, you'll
promise to take the message to Captain Tracy and the bit of paper in my
'baccy-box; I'll leave that to you, and everything else I've got on
board.

"I promised Tim that I'd do as he wished, and that if I failed he might
haunt me, if he'd a mind to do so, till my dying day.  Tim has come more
than once in my dhrames to remind me, and I've been aiger ever since to
do his bidding."

"And where's the bit of paper?" asked Captain Tracy eagerly.

"Here it is, yer honour," answered the seaman, pulling a battered old
tobacco-box out of his pocket, from which he produced a yellow scrap of
paper, on which was written, apparently with the end of a burnt stick,
the letters O.M.  Norah had been too much excited even to speak.  She
gazed at the paper.

"Yes--these letters were, I am sure, written by Owen.  I knew that he
was alive; I was certain of it!" she exclaimed, her bosom palpitating as
she spoke with the varied emotions which agitated her.  "Oh, father,
look at them!  They must have been written by Owen; he had no time or
means for writing more, and he was sure we should recognise them if they
were ever brought to us."

The captain took the paper and examined it.  "Yes, I truly believe that
these letters were inscribed by Owen Massey.  Had he attempted to write
more, he knew that the whole would probably be obliterated before it
could reach us, so he did the wise and thoughtful thing," he said.  "I
praise Heaven that he is alive.  I was sure from the first that the
_Ouzel Galley_ did not go down in the hurricane, and this proves it;
though what has become of her, or where Owen is imprisoned, is more than
I can make out--for imprisoned I take it that he is, and strictly
guarded too, or he'd have long since found his way home."

"The more reason, then, that we should go in search for him," exclaimed
Norah.  "Oh, father, let us sail as soon as possible."

"Captain O'Brien will soon be back from Bristol, and nothing need longer
delay us, except the want of funds," said the captain, "and they must
first be raised.  But with the assurance that Owen is still alive--and I
think the account we have heard affords that--I believe that my friends
Ferris, Twigg, and Cash will no longer hesitate to advance the required
amount.  For, though we have no evidence that the _Ouzel Galley_ has
escaped destruction, my belief is that she is safe, as well as her
master, although we are at present almost as much in the dark as ever as
to where she is.  Had Tim Reardon survived, we should, I have no doubt,
been able to obtain much valuable information to guide us; but as he is
dead, we must trust to what we can hereafter gain.  We'll hear, however,
what further our friend the seaman can tell us.  Perhaps, after he has
had some food, he may remember more of what Tim said to him."

"I'm mighty hungry, yer honour--it's the truth," said Larry, looking up;
on which Norah hastened to get some cold meat and bread, not forgetting
a noggin of whisky, at which Larry's eyes glistened.  The captain
allowed him to eat in silence, and he proved how hungry he must have
been by the quickness with which he devoured the viands placed before
him.  Another examination elicited little further information, however,
from the seaman; his messmate had never mentioned the circumstances
under which he had met the person who had given him the paper with the
initials O.M. on it.  He remembered only that he had once spoken of a
fine ship of which O.M. had been master, and which he had not long ago
seen, although he either did not know her name or was bound not to
divulge it.  It was evident, indeed, that the unfortunate Tim Reardon
was under some fearful oath which he was afraid to break, and that he
had always spoken with the greatest caution, lest he might in any way
commit himself.

"Many would call yours a cock-and-bull story," observed Captain Tracy,
"but I believe you, Larry, and you may have the satisfaction of knowing
that you have fulfilled your promise to your dying messmate.  Though you
ask for no reward, I'll do what I can to repay you for the information
you have given me; and now you've had some rest and food, if you'll come
in with me to Waterford, I'll give you a fresh rig out, and you can cast
away the rags you've got on your back."

"Faith, yer honour, I'm in luck thin.  I'm ready to walk a dozen miles
or more," exclaimed Larry, jumping up; and, giving a bow with his
battered hat and a scrape of the foot, he added, "The top of the morning
to you, young lady, and a thousand thanks.  It's put fresh life into my
heart.  Shure, I hope the gentleman you've been inquiring after will
come back alive some bright day."

Followed by Larry, the captain hurried into Waterford, where, having got
the seaman rigged out from top to toe in a new suit of clothing, he
repaired to Ferris, Twigg, and Cash's office.  He there wrote a letter
to the firm in Dublin, giving an account of the information he had just
received, and urging them to advance the sum required to enable the
_Research_ to proceed on her voyage.  Soon after he had despatched the
letter, Captain O'Brien arrived, bringing with him two mates and eight
good men.

"And now, old friend," he said, "as I've neither wife nor daughter at
home to pipe their eyes at the thoughts of my going, and old Molly, my
housekeeper, however unhappy she may be at first, will soon be
reconciled to my absence, I've made up my mind to offer myself as a
passenger, to help look after Mistress Norah, in case anything should
happen to you.  Will you take me?"

"With all my heart," answered Captain Tracy.  "I shall be glad of your
society on my own account, and still more for Norah's sake; for, though
I feel as strong and hearty as I did a dozen years ago, yet it may be
Heaven's will to call me, and it would be a comfort to my heart to think
that Norah was left with a friend to protect her till Owen Massey should
appear to claim her as his own."

"That matter is settled then, and I'll just have my traps packed up and
give directions to old Molly to take care of the house till my return,"
said Captain O'Brien.  "Having done that, I'll be quickly aboard to take
charge till you appear, as I've already sent the mates and the men I
brought over on board to keep them out of harm's way.  I've also given
notice that a few prime hands are wanted, and I hope to pick up two or
three old shipmates in whom I can place perfect confidence."

As the two old captains left the office they met Larry Cregan, looking a
very different being to what he had done a few hours before.

"Plase, yer honour," he said, touching his hat, "I've been told that a
few hands are wanted for the _Research_, and though I'm not worth much
at present, after I've put some good beef and pork on my bones I shall
turn out as good a hand as any of them."

"I'll take you at your word, Larry," said Captain Tracy, "and you may go
aboard as soon as you like."

"Shure, it's the safest place for me, yer honour," said Larry, "and
maybe I'd otherwise be taking in too much of the potheen, just for joy
with thinking that I'd delivered my message and was free of my oath."

Captain Tracy accordingly gave Larry an order to be received on board as
one of the crew, while he himself returned homeward, to make further
arrangements and to wait for a reply to the letter he had despatched to
Ferris, Twigg, and Cash.  He and Norah paid Mrs Massey a farewell
visit.  Norah had already carefully told her the information which had
been so curiously gained.

"I cannot help you to search for my son," said the widow, "but, though
unable to leave my home, I can pray unceasingly that Heaven will protect
you in your mission, and reward you for your love and devotion."

Captain Tracy had expressed his earnest desire to sail without delay,
and greatly to his satisfaction, much sooner than he expected, he
received a letter, sent by a special messenger, from his friends,
agreeing to his request and placing the required funds at his disposal.
They also consented to ship a certain amount of goods on board the
_Research_, and no sooner was this known than several other merchants in
Waterford agreed to add to her cargo.  When it was known that Captain
Tracy was going out in command of the _Research_, and that Captain
O'Brien was to accompany him, as many good men as were required offered
to ship on board her, and her crew was thus speedily completed.  Great
interest was excited when the object of the voyage became generally
known, and multitudes collected on the quays, cheering right heartily
as, her warps being cast off, sail was made and the _Research_ glided
away down the river.  The two captains agreed that no ship they had ever
commanded was better found, better armed, or better manned than she was.
A fine northerly breeze earned her out of the harbour, and, all sail
being made, she took her departure from the land, and steered a course
for the West Indies.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

THE SCENERY OF JAMAICA--PROCEEDINGS AT BELLEVUE--A DESCRIPTION OF THE
SLAVES ON THE ESTATE--AN EXPEDITION PROPOSED--ARRIVAL OF MAJOR MALCOLM
AND LIEUTENANT BELT--A MORNING RIDE--A PICNIC--VISIT TO A REMARKABLE
CAVERN--CURIOUS OBJECTS WITHIN--THE GUIDE'S TERROR AT SEEING SHADOWS IN
THE DISTANCE--ARCHIE'S NARROW ESCAPE--WARNINGS--RETURN HOMEWARDS--MEET
MARTIN BRINGING ALARMING INTELLIGENCE.

Among the numberless lovely islands which dot the ocean, few surpass
Jamaica in beauty and magnificence of scenery, or are adorned with a
richer vegetation.  Grand as are the views the island presents to the
voyager who approaches it on the southern shore, they are fully equalled
by those of its northern coast.  At a short distance from the beach the
island rises into hills of gentle ascent, generally separated from each
other by wide valleys, amid which numerous streams find their way to the
ocean.  The hills, mostly rounded, are covered with groves of beautiful
trees, many of them loaded with rich fruits and flowers scented with the
most delicious odours.  Here is seen the pimento, remarkable for its
beauty and fragrance, the dark green of its foliage finely contrasting
with the bright tints of the grass beneath; while in every direction are
fruit trees of various hues, the orange, pineapple, or tamarind, many
bearing at the same time blossoms, unripe fruit, and others fit for
plucking.  In the lower grounds are fertile and level savannahs, plains
waving with cane-fields, displaying a luxuriance of vegetation, the
verdure of spring blended with the mellow exuberance of autumn.  In the
distance, running down the centre of the island, rise the Blue
Mountains, their tops dimly seen through the fleecy clouds, the greater
portion of the range being covered with impenetrable forests, their
sides often broken into inaccessible cliffs and abrupt precipices.
These forests and cliffs have afforded for several centuries an asylum
and fortress to fugitive blacks, who have there set pursuit at defiance,
the game and wild fruits the woods supply enabling them to find
subsistence without the necessity of descending into the lower regions
to obtain food.  Rocks and mountains, woodlands and plains, everywhere
beautifully blending, form conspicuous features in the landscape of
Jamaica.  Dotted over the country are the pens, or farms, of the
planters--their residences extensive, though not often more than one
story in height, with gardens surrounding them, the works,
boiling-houses, and other buildings generally concealed from view by
thick woods; while beyond are the cane-fields and the dark, low huts of
the negroes, standing together in the form of a village, far more
picturesque at a distance than when closely approached.  But the woods
are the pride and beauty of the country; there the palm, the cocoa-nut,
the mountain cabbage, and the plantain are often associated with the
tamarind and orange, the oleander and African rose growing in rich
luxuriance, the scarlet cordium of a glowing red, the jasmine and
grenadilla vine forming verdant bowers, the lilac with tufted plumes,
the portlandia with white and silky leaves, together with an infinite
variety of flower and fruit bearing shrubs.

Such was the scenery surrounding Bellevue House, at which Ellen Ferris
and her father had now spent some weeks with the worthy attorney, Mr
Twigg, and his wife and family.  Although there were rumours that the
blacks in distant districts were disaffected, it was difficult to trace
whence the reports originated, and it was generally believed that they
were without foundation.  The Jumby dance which Archie Sandys had
witnessed some time before was considered a suspicious circumstance by
Mr Ferris; but the overseer assured him that the blacks on the estate
were all peaceably disposed, and that the assembly at the hut under the
cotton-tree was merely for the performance of some rite of their
barbarous religion, and should not cause the slightest uneasiness.

"I will keep an eye on what goes forward, and if I hear of any more
meetings of the sort, I will take good care to learn their object," said
the overseer.  "You must let the blacks amuse themselves in their own
way, provided it does not interfere with work."

To Ellen, the blacks appeared happy and contented.  She had no
opportunity, indeed, of looking very deeply into the state of the
matter.  If the lash was used, she did not hear the cries of the
victims, nor see the marks on their backs.  She heard that if they were
sick they were taken care of in an hospital, or rather in some huts
appropriated to that object, and that they were attended by the medical
man who had charge of that and two or three neighbouring estates.  He
occasionally visited at the house, and appeared to be a good-natured,
merry individual, who told amusing stories about the negroes and their
wonderful ignorance.  The negroes of whom she saw most were the domestic
slaves, who seemed attached to their masters, and were always willing
and obedient, and, being well fed, looked sleek and contented.  The most
interesting was Martha, the black nurse of Mrs Twigg's children.  Her
devoted affection for her charges was remarkable; she seemed to have no
care or thought for anything besides them, and though she occasionally
joined in the village festivities among her own people, she invariably
came back full of anxiety lest any harm should have happened to them
during her absence.  She was treated by her mistress with great kindness
and consideration, and perfect confidence was placed in her.  The old
grey-headed butler, Martin, was also on a more familiar footing with his
master than any white servant of the same position in an English
household would have been; while all the other domestic slaves, or boys
as they were generally called, were merry fellows, always laughing and
joking, though holding old Martin in great respect--their garments
consisting of a checked shirt, white trousers, and white jacket, though
their feet were shoeless, and they generally dispensed with hats.  They
looked neat and clean, and had no reason to complain of want of physical
comfort.  Probably, in other cases where the master was ill-tempered,
they would have been liable to punishment, deserved or undeserved.

"But what about the agricultural labourers?" asked Ellen Sandys, who was
ever, when he could be so with propriety, by her side--she looking upon
him as a well-mannered, intelligent schoolboy; so that Lieutenant Foley
would have experienced no jealous feelings had he seen them together.

"Well, they, I suppose, are in their way as happy and contented as they
need be," answered Archie.  "The field slaves, as we call them, who live
out in the huts there, are divided into gangs.  The first is composed of
the stronger men and women, who work together, the women being able to
do almost as much as the men.  Their business is to clear the land, dig
and plant the cane-fields, and in crop-time cut the canes and attend to
the mill-house, where the canes are crushed and the sugar and molasses
manufactured.  The second gang is composed chiefly of the bigger boys
and girls and more weakly women, who are unable to do the harder work,
and the older men who have lost their strength.  They have to weed the
canes and attend to other lighter duties.  The third gang consists of
the young children, who are employed chiefly in weeding the gardens,
collecting fodder or food for the pigs, and similar easy tasks.  The men
drivers are employed in looking after the first two gangs, and are
allowed to carry whips to hold over them in terror, even if not often
used.  The gang of children is confided to the charge of an old woman,
who carries a long switch; and with her it is no mere emblem of
authority, for she employs it pretty frequently on the backs of the
urchins.  You have seen Mammy Quasheba, and I dare say she appears to
you to be a very amiable old dame, for she takes care only to tickle her
little charges when you or Mrs Twigg are in sight."

"But do the drivers often make use of those dreadful whips?" asked
Ellen.

"On our estate they certainly do not; but on others, seldom or never
visited by the proprietors, the only notion they have of maintaining
order is the lash," answered Archie.  "The unfortunate black is
unmercifully flogged for the slightest offence, or for apparent
idleness.  You ask how many hours they work.  Generally before daybreak
they are aroused by the head driver, who comes into the village blowing
a horn, and if they fail to turn out immediately, they become intimately
acquainted with his whip.  They work for three hours, and are then
allowed half an hour for breakfast, during which they manage to stow way
an enormous quantity of vegetable food.  They then labour on till noon,
when they have two whole hours, either to take their dinner, to sleep,
or to work in their own provision grounds and attend to their pigs and
poultry.  From two till dark they resume their labours, when they
generally knock off and return home, except in crop-time, when it is
important to get the canes cut and carried as rapidly as possible, and
the boiling-house requires a number of hands.  However, they become fat
and sleek during that period, as they may suck as much of the cane as
they like, and do not look upon the task as especially laborious.  As a
number of artisans are required on the estate, such as carpenters,
blacksmiths, masons, and coopers, the more intelligent lads are selected
and sent as apprentices to learn those trades; though they get pretty
hardly treated at times, they afterwards possess considerable advantages
over the untrained blacks, and often contrive to save enough money to
buy their freedom.  Altogether, I don't think the negroes of Jamaica can
be said to be much worse off than the peasantry in many parts of the old
country; they may in some respects be even better off than the Irish
peasantry."

"But yet the poorest Irishman would not readily change places with
them," remarked Ellen, "and I am afraid, from what I hear, that they are
totally neglected as to their religious and moral condition."

"As to that, their mental powers are too low to receive religious
instruction, and their habits too confirmed to be improved; and so,
provided they can be maintained in health and perform the required
amount of labour, few proprietors or overseers trouble themselves much
about anything else," answered Archie.  "Some, however, have tried to
improve them, and have supported ministers and missionaries among them;
but I don't know with what success."

"Oh, I wish that something could be done for the blacks on this estate!"
said Ellen.  "It is dreadful to think that they should be allowed by
their so-called Christian masters to remain on in their heathen
darkness."

"It is very kind in you to interest yourself in the poor blacks, and I
am afraid not many white people trouble their heads about them," said
Archie.  "But I came, Miss Ferris, to propose an excursion to an
interesting place in this neighbourhood which you should see before you
go away--and I fear that your stay is not likely to be prolonged;" and
Archie looked unutterable things, and heaved a sigh which Ellen did not
observe.

"What are its peculiarities, and where is it?" she asked.  "I should
certainly like to visit any place worth seeing."

"It is a wonderful cave, about twelve or fifteen miles to the eastward
of this," answered Archie.  "I have never been there myself, as I have
not had a whole holiday to enable me to make the trip, nor companions
with whom I could enjoy it; but if you could persuade Mr Ferris and Mr
and Mrs Twigg to go, I am sure they will be repaid for the fatigue of
the journey.  By starting early in the morning we can return by
nightfall, as there is a carriage road all the way, or what is called
one in Jamaica; but perhaps you are a horsewoman, and if so, the whole
distance might be performed before the sun has attained an overpowering
heat."

Ellen was delighted; her only regret was that, the _Champion_ not having
appeared, Lieutenant Foley could not be of the party.  Mr Ferris, when
she told him of the proposal, expressed his readiness to go; and Mr and
Mrs Twigg, though they had lived so long in the island, never having
seen the cavern, were also willing to join the expedition.

"We must let the Pembertons know," said Mrs Twigg.  "The other day
Fanny Pemberton told me that she was especially wishing to visit the
cave.  She and her brother are sure to come."

"Pray ask them," exclaimed Ellen.  "She is a dear, nice girl; and if she
is fond of riding, she will be ready to accompany me."

"The sooner, then, we start the better," said Mr Ferris, "or business
of some sort may prevent us, and we must not prolong our stay here."

"Then I propose we start to-morrow morning," said Mr Twigg.  "There's
nothing like fixing an early day, as an ardent lover would say, and we
couldn't well choose an earlier.  We'll order the buggies and horses to
be at the door on the first sound of the slave-driver's born, so that we
may enjoy the full freshness of the morning."

Mrs Twigg forthwith despatched a messenger with a note to Walton Hall,
Mr Pemberton's estate, which was situated about four miles inland from
Bellevue, asking Miss Pemberton and her brother to come over at once,
that they might be ready to start at daybreak.

The proposed expedition formed the subject of conversation for the rest
of the evening, Archie Sandys being especially pleased that his
suggestion had been so readily adopted.  He and two other young
book-keepers were to form members of the party.  The family had
collected for an early supper, when horses' hoofs were heard approaching
the house; and it being announced that several gentlemen were coming,