Project Gutenberg's From Powder Monkey to Admiral, by W.H.G. Kingston

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Title: From Powder Monkey to Admiral
       A Story of Naval Adventure

Author: W.H.G. Kingston

Illustrator: Archibald Webb

Release Date: May 9, 2007 [EBook #21404]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FROM POWDER MONKEY TO ADMIRAL ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




From Powder Monkey to Admiral, a Story of Naval Adventure, by W.H.G.
Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________

This book was written for "Boy's Own Paper" shortly after that magazine
started.  The plan was to write a book illustrating how it might be
possible for any very ordinary little boy joining the Navy in the lowest
rating--powder monkey--and ascend to the very highest rank--admiral.  It
had been done before, in the separate cases of Benbow and Hopson, and
there was no reason why it shouldn't happen again.  A powder monkey was
so called because his job in manning the guns was to run from time to
time to fetch more powder whenever it was needed.  Since the boys were
small they afforded little target for the enemy's shot, so they tended
to survive an engagement.  Just as well, for their job was
indispensable.

In this book three boys join up in the same batch.  They have the usual
Kingston-style adventures, but only one of them makes it to the quarter
deck to become a midshipman.  This was probably the hardest step for any
of them, but it was his bravery, honesty and good manners that won for
him the necessary attention.  At the end of the book there is a pathetic
scene where we meet again the boy who did least well.  This is a good
and enjoyable read or listen, taking about twelve and three quarter
hours.

________________________________________________________________________

FROM POWDER MONKEY TO ADMIRAL; A STORY OF NAVAL ADVENTURE, BY W.H.G.
KINGSTON.

Introduction.

A book for boys by W.H.G.  Kingston needs no introduction.  Yet a few
things may be said about the origin and the purpose of this story.

When the _Boys' Own Paper_ was first started, Mr Kingston, who showed
deep interest in the project, undertook to write a story of the sea,
during the wars, under the title of "From Powder-monkey to Admiral."

Talking the matter over, it was objected that such a story might offend
peaceable folk, because it must deal too much with blood and gunpowder.
Mr Kingston, although famed as a narrator of sea-fights, was a lover of
peace, and he said that his story would not encourage the war spirit.
Those who cared chiefly to read about battles might turn to the pages of
"British Naval History."  He chose the period of the great war for his
story, because it was a time of stirring events and adventures.  The
main part of the narrative belongs to the early years of life, in which
boys would feel most interest and sympathy.  And throughout the tale,
not "glory" but "duty" is the object set before the youthful reader.

It was further objected that the title of the story set before boys an
impossible object of ambition.  The French have a saying, that "every
soldier carries in his knapsack a marshal's baton," meaning that the way
is open for rising to the very highest rank in their army.  But who ever
heard of a sailor lad rising to be an Admiral in the British Navy?

Let us see how history answers this question.  There was a great sea
captain of other days, whose fame is not eclipsed by the glorious
reputations of later wars, Admiral Benbow.  In the reign of Queen Anne,
before the great Duke of Marlborough had begun his victorious career,
Benbow had broken the power of France on the sea.  Rank and routine were
powerful in those days, as now; but when a time of peril comes, the best
man is wanted, and Benbow was promoted out of turn, by royal command, to
the rank of Vice-Admiral, and went after the fleet of Admiral Ducasse to
the West Indies.  In the little church of Saint Andrew's, Kingston,
Jamaica, his body lies, and the memorial stone speaks of him as "a true
pattern of English courage, who lost his life in defence of queen and
country."

Like his illustrious French contemporary Jean Bart, John Benbow was of
humble origin.  He entered the merchant service when a boy.  He was
unknown till he had reached the age of thirty, when he had risen to the
command of a merchant vessel.  Attacked by a powerful Salee rover, he
gallantly repulsed these Moorish pirates, and took his ship safe into
Cadiz.  The heads of thirteen of the pirates he preserved, and delivered
them to the magistrates of the town, in presence of the custom-house
officers.  The tidings of this strange incident reached Madrid, and the
King of Spain, Charles the Second, sent for the English captain,
received him with great honour, and wrote a letter on his behalf to our
King James the Second, who on his return to England gave him a ship.
This was his introduction to the British Navy, in which he served with
distinction in the reigns of William the Third and Queen Anne.  But his
obscure origin is the point here under notice, and the following
traditional anecdote is preserved in Shropshire:--When a boy he was left
in charge of the house by his mother, who went out marketing.  The
desire to go to sea, long cherished, was irresistible.  He stole forth,
locking the cottage door after him, and hung the key on a hook in a tree
in the garden.  Many years passed before he returned to the old place.
Though now out of his reach, for the tree had grown faster than he, the
key still hung on the hook.  He left it there; and there it remained
when he came back as Rear-Admiral of the _White_.  He then pointed it
out to his friends, and told the story.  Once more his country required
his services, but his fame and the echo of his victories alone came over
the wave.  The good town of Shrewsbury is proud to claim him as a son,
and remembers the key, hung by the banks of the Severn, near Benbow
House.  Whatever basis of truth the story may have, its being told and
believed attests the fact of the humble birth and origin of Admiral
Benbow.

Another sailor boy, Hopson, in the early part of last century, rose to
be Admiral in the British Navy.  Born at Bonchurch in the Isle of Wight,
of humblest parentage, he was left an orphan, and apprenticed by the
parish to a tailor.  While sitting one day alone on the shop-board, he
was struck by the sight of the squadron coming round Dunnose.  Instantly
quitting his work, he ran to the shore, jumped into a boat, and rowed
for the Admiral's ship.  Taken on board, he entered as a volunteer.

Next morning the English fleet fell in with a French squadron, and a
warm action ensued.  Young Hopson obeyed every order with the utmost
alacrity; but after two or three hours' fighting he became impatient,
and asked what they were fighting for.  The sailors explained to him
that they must fire away, and the fight go on, till the white rag at the
enemy's mast-head was struck.  Getting this information, his resolution
was formed, and he exclaimed, "Oh, if that's all, I'll see what I can
do."

The two ships, with the flags of the commanders on each side, were now
engaged at close quarters, yard-arm and yard-arm, and completely
enveloped in smoke.  This proved favourable to the purpose of the brave
youth, who mounted the shrouds through the smoke unobserved, gained the
French Admiral's main-yard, ascended with agility to the main-topgallant
mast-head, and carried off the French flag.  It was soon seen that the
enemy's colours had disappeared, and the British sailors, thinking they
had been hauled down, raised a shout of "Victory, victory!"  The French
were thrown into confusion by this, and first slackened fire, and then
ran from their guns.  At this juncture the ship was boarded by the
English and taken.  Hopson had by this time descended the shrouds with
the French flag wrapped round his arm, which he triumphantly displayed.

The sailors received the prize with astonishment and cheers of approval.
The Admiral being told of the exploit, sent for Hopson and thus
addressed him, "My lad, I believe you to be a brave youth.  From this
day I order you to walk the quarter-deck, and if your future conduct is
equally meritorious, you shall have my patronage and protection."
Hopson made every effort to maintain the good opinion of his patron, and
by his conduct and attention to duty gained the respect of the officers
of the ship.  He afterwards went rapidly through the different ranks of
the service, till at length he attained that of Admiral.

We might give not a few instances of more recent date, but the families
and friends of those "who have risen" do not always feel the same honest
pride as the great men themselves in the story of their life.  While it
is true that no sailor boy may now hope to become "Admiral of the
Fleet," yet there is room for advancement, in peace as in war, to what
is better than mere rank or title or wealth,--a position of honour and
usefulness.  Good character and good conduct, pluck and patience,
steadiness and application, will win their way, whether on sea or land,
and in every calling.

The inventions of modern science and art are producing a great change in
all that pertains to life at sea.  The revolution is more apparent in
war than in peace.  There is, and always will be, a large proportion of
merchant ships under sail, even in nations like our own where steam is
in most general use.  In war, a wooden ship without steam and without
armour would be a mere floating coffin.  The fighting _Temeraire_, and
the saucy _Arethusa_, and Nelson's _Victory_ itself, would be nothing
but targets for deadly fire from active and irresistible foes.  The odds
would be about the same as the odds of javelins and crossbows against
modern fire-arms.  Steam alone had made a revolution in naval warfare;
but when we add to this the armour-plating of vessels, and the terrible
artillery of modern times, "the wooden walls of old England" are only
fit to be used as store-ships or hospitals for a few years, and then
sent to the ship-yards to be broken up for firewood.  But though
material conditions have changed, the moral forces are the same as ever,
and courage, daring, skill, and endurance are the same in ships of oak
or of iron:--

  "Yes, the days of our wooden walls are ended,
  And the days of our iron ones begun;
  But who cares by what our land's defended,
  While the hearts that fought and fight are one?
  'Twas not the oak that fought each battle,
  'Twas not the wood that victory won;
  'Twas the hands that made our broadsides rattle,
  'Twas the hearts of oak that served each gun."

These are words from one of the "Songs for Sailors," by W.C.  Bennett,
who has written better naval poems for popular use than any one since
the days of Dibdin.  The same idea concludes a rattling ballad on old
Admiral Benbow:--

  "Well, our walls of oak have become just a joke
  And in tea-kettles we're to fight;
  It seems a queer dream, all this iron and steam,
  But I daresay, my lads, it's right.
  But whether we float in ship or in boat,
  In iron or oak, we know
  For old England's right we've hearts that will fight,
  As of old did the brave Benbow."

But, after all, even in war, fighting is only a small part of the sum of
any sailor's life, and the British flag floats over ships on every sea,
whether under sail or steam, in the peaceful pursuits of commerce.  The
same qualities of heart and mind will have their play, which Mr
Kingston has described in his stirring story,--a story which will be
read with profit by the young, and with pleasure by both young and old.

                            DR. MACAULAY, FOUNDER OF "BOY'S OWN PAPER."


CHAPTER ONE.

PREPARING TO START.

No steamboats ploughed the ocean, nor were railroads thought of, when
our young friends Jack, Tom, and Bill lived.  They first met each other
on board the _Foxhound_ frigate, on the deck of which ship a score of
other lads and some fifty or sixty men were mustered, who had just come
up the side from the _Viper_ tender; she having been on a cruise to
collect such stray hands as could be found; and a curious lot they were
to look at.

Among them were long-shore fellows in swallow-tails and round hats,
fishermen in jerseys and fur-skin caps, smugglers in big boots and
flushing coats; and not a few whose whitey-brown faces, and
close-cropped hair, made it no difficult matter to guess that their last
residence was within the walls of a gaol.  There were seamen also,
pressed most of them, just come in from a long voyage, many months or
perhaps years having passed since they left their native land; that they
did not look especially amiable was not to be wondered at, since they
had been prevented from going, as they had intended, to visit their
friends, or maybe, in the case of the careless ones, from enjoying a
long-expected spree on shore.  They were all now waiting to be inspected
by the first lieutenant, before their names were entered on the ship's
books.

The rest of the crew were going about their various duties.  Most of
them were old hands, who had served a year or more on board the gallant
frigate.  During that time she had fought two fierce actions, which,
though she had come off victorious, had greatly thinned her ship's
company, and the captain was therefore anxious to make up the complement
as fast as possible by every means in his power.

The seamen took but little notice of the new hands, though some of them
had been much of the same description themselves, but were not very fond
of acknowledging this, or of talking of their previous histories; they
had, however, got worked into shape by degrees: and the newcomers, even
those with the "long togs," by the time they had gone through the same
process would not be distinguished from the older hands, except, maybe,
when they came to splice an eye, or turn in a grummet, when their clumsy
work would show what they were; few of them either were likely ever to
be the outermost on the yard-arms when sail had suddenly to be shortened
on a dark night, while it was blowing great guns and small arms.

The frigate lay at Spithead.  She had been waiting for these hands to
put to sea.  Lighters were alongside, and whips were never-ceasingly
hoisting in casks of rum, with bales and cases of all sorts, which it
seemed impossible could ever be stowed away.  From the first lieutenant
to the youngest midshipman, all were bawling at the top of their voices,
issuing and repeating orders; but there were two persons who out-roared
all the rest, the boatswain and the boatswain's mate.  They were proud
of those voices of theirs.  Let the hardest gale be blowing, with the
wind howling and whistling through the rigging, the canvas flapping like
claps of thunder, and the seas roaring and dashing against the bows,
they could make themselves heard above the loudest sounds of the storm.

At present the boatswain bawled, or rather roared, because he was so
accustomed to roar that he could speak in no gentler voice while
carrying on duty on deck; and the boatswain's mate imitated him.

The first lieutenant had a good voice of his own, though it was not so
rough as that of his inferiors.  He made it come out with a quick, sharp
sound, which could be heard from the poop to the forecastle, even with
the wind ahead.

Jack, Tom, and Bill looked at each other, wondering what was next going
to happen.  They were all three of about the same age, and much of a
height, and somehow, as I have said, they found themselves standing
close together.

They were too much astonished, not to say frightened, to talk just then,
though they all three had tongues in their heads, so they listened to
the conversation going on around them.

"Why, mate, where do you come from?" asked a long-shore chap of one of
the whitey-brown-faced gentlemen.

"Oh, I've jist dropped from the clouds; don't know where else I've come
from," was the answer.

"I suppose you got your hair cropped off as you came down?" was the next
query.

"Yes! it was the wind did it as I came scuttling down," answered the
other, who was evidently never at a loss what to say.  "And now, mate,
just tell me how did you get on board this craft?" he inquired.

"I swam off, of course, seized with a fit of patriotism, and determined
to fight for the honour and glory of old England," was the answer.

It cannot, however, be said that this is a fair specimen of the
conversation; indeed, it would benefit no one were what was said to be
repeated.

Jack, Tom, and Bill felt very much as a person might be supposed to do
who had dropped from the moon.  Everything around them was so strange
and bewildering, for not one of them had ever before been on board a
ship, and Bill had never even seen one.  Having not been much accustomed
to the appearance of trees, he had some idea that the masts grew out of
the deck, that the yards were branches, and the blocks curious leaves;
not that amid the fearful uproar, and what seemed to him the wildest
confusion, he could think of anything clearly.

Bill Rayner had certainly not been born with a silver spoon in his
mouth.  His father he had never known.  His mother lived in a garret and
died in a garret, although not before, happily for him, he was able to
do something for himself, and, still more happily, not before she had
impressed right principles on his mind.  As the poor woman lay on her
deathbed, taking her boy's hands and looking earnestly into his eyes,
she said, "Be honest, Bill, in the sight of God.  Never forget that He
sees you, and do your best to please Him.  No fear about the rest.  I am
not much of a scholar, but I know that's right.  If others try to
persuade you to do what's wrong, don't listen to them.  Promise me,
Bill, that you will do as I tell you."

"I promise, mother, that I will," answered Bill; and, small lad as he
was, meant what he said.

Poor as she was, being a woman of some education, his mother had taught
him to read and write and cipher--not that he was a great adept at any
of those arts, but he possessed the groundwork, which was an important
matter; and he did his best to keep up his knowledge by reading
sign-boards, looking into book-sellers' windows, and studying any stray
leaves he could obtain.

Bill's mother was buried in a rough shell by the parish, and Bill went
out into the world to seek his fortune.  He took to curious ways,--
hunting in dust-heaps for anything worth having; running errands when he
could get any one to send him; holding horses for gentlemen, but that
was not often; doing duty as a link-boy at houses when grand parties
were going forward or during foggy weather; for Bill, though he often
went supperless to his nest, either under a market-cart, or in a cask by
the river side, or in some other out-of-the-way place, generally managed
to have a little capital with which to buy a link; but the said capital
did not grow much, for bad times coming swallowed it all up.

Bill, as are many other London boys, was exposed to temptations of all
sorts; often when almost starving, without a roof to sleep under, or a
friend to whom he could appeal for help, his shoes worn out, his
clothing too scanty to keep him warm; but, ever recollecting his
mother's last words, he resisted them all.  One day, having wandered
farther east than he had ever been before, he found himself in the
presence of a press-gang, who were carrying off a party of men and boys
to the river's edge.  One of the man-of-war's men seized upon him, and
Bill, thinking that matters could not be much worse with him than they
were at present, willingly accompanied the party, though he had very
little notion where they were going.  Reaching a boat, they were made to
tumble in, some resisting and endeavouring to get away; but a gentle
prick from the point of a cutlass, or a clout on the head, made them
more reasonable, and most of them sat down resigned to their fate.  One
of them, however, a stout fellow, when the boat had got some distance
from the shore, striking out right and left at the men nearest him,
sprang overboard, and before the boat could be pulled round had already
got back nearly half-way to the landing-place.

One or two of the press-gang, who had muskets, fired, but they were not
good shots.  The man looking back as he saw them lifting their weapons,
by suddenly diving escaped the first volley, and by the time they had
again loaded he had gained such a distance that the shot spattered into
the water on either side of him.  They were afraid of firing again for
fear of hitting some of the people on shore, besides which, darkness
coming on, the gloom concealed him from view.

They knew, however, that he must have landed in safety from the cheers
which came from off the quay, uttered by the crowd who had followed the
press-gang, hooting them as they embarked with their captives.

Bill began to think that he could not be going to a very pleasant place,
since, in spite of the risk he ran, the man had been so eager to escape;
but being himself unable to swim, he could not follow his example, even
had he wished it.  He judged it wiser, therefore, to stay still, and see
what would next happen.  The boat pulled down the river for some way,
till she got alongside a large cutter, up the side of which Bill and his
companions were made to climb.

From what he heard, he found that she was a man-of-war tender, her
business being to collect men, by hook or by crook, for the Royal Navy.

As she was now full--indeed, so crowded that no more men could be stowed
on board--she got under way with the first of the ebb, and dropped down
the stream, bound for Spithead.

As Bill, with most of the pressed men, was kept below during this his
first trip to sea, he gained but little nautical experience.  He was,
however, very sick, while he arrived at the conclusion that the tender's
hold, the dark prison in which he found himself, was a most horrible
place.

Several of his more heartless companions jeered at him in his misery;
and, indeed, poor Bill, thin and pale, shoeless and hatless, clad in
patched garments, looked a truly miserable object.

As the wind was fair, the voyage did not last long, and glad enough he
was when the cutter got alongside the big frigate, and he with the rest
being ordered on board, he could breathe the fresh air which blew across
her decks.

Tom Fletcher, who stood next to Bill, had considerably the advantage of
him in outward appearance.  Tom was dressed in somewhat nautical
fashion, though any sailor would have seen with half an eye that his
costume had been got up by a shore-going tailor.

Tom had a good-natured but not very sensible-looking countenance.  He
was strongly built, was in good health, and had the making of a sailor
in him, though this was the first time that he had even been on board a
ship.

He had a short time before come off with a party of men returning on the
expiration of their leave.  Telling them that he wished to go to sea, he
had been allowed to enter the boat.  From the questions some of them had
put to him, and the answers he gave, they suspected that he was a
runaway, and such in fact was the case.  Tom was the son of a solicitor
in a country town, who had several other boys, he being the fourth, in
the family.

He had for some time taken to reading the voyages of Drake, Cavendish,
and Dampier, and the adventures of celebrated pirates, such as those of
Captains Kidd, Lowther, Davis, Teach, as also the lives of some of
England's naval commanders, Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Benbow, and Admirals
Hawke, Keppel, Rodney, and others, whose gallant actions he fully
intended some day to imitate.

He had made vain endeavours to induce his father to let him go to sea,
but Mr Fletcher, knowing that he was utterly ignorant of a sea life,
set his wish down as a mere fancy which it would be folly to indulge.

Tom, instead of trying to show that he really was in earnest, took
French leave one fine morning, and found his way to Portsmouth, without
being traced.  Had he waited, he would probably have been sent to sea as
a midshipman, and placed on the quarter-deck.  He now entered as a
ship-boy before the mast.

Tom, as he had made his bed, had to lie on it, as is the case with many
other persons.  Even now, had he written home, he might have had his
position changed, but he thought himself very clever, and had no
intention of letting his father know where he had gone.  The last of the
trio was far more accustomed to salt water than was either of his
companions.  Jack Peek was the son of a West country fisherman.  He had
come to sea because he saw that there was little chance of getting bread
to put into his mouth if he remained on shore.

Jack's father had lost his boats and nets the previous winter, and had
shortly afterwards been pressed on board a man-of-war.

Jack had done his best to support himself without being a burden to his
mother, who sold fish in the neighbouring town and country round, and
could do very well for herself; so when he proposed going on board a
man-of-war, she, having mended his shirts, bought him a new pair of
shoes, and gave him her blessing.  Accordingly, doing up his spare
clothes in a bundle, which he carried at the end of a stick, he trudged
off with a stout heart, resolved to serve His Majesty and fight the
battles of Old England.

Jack went on board the first man-of-war tender picking up hands he could
find, and had been transferred that day to the _Foxhound_.

He told Tom and Bill thus much of his history.  The former, however, was
not very ready to be communicative as to his; while Bill's patched
garments said as much about him as he was just then willing to narrate.
A boy who had spent all his life in the streets of London was not likely
to say more to strangers than was necessary.

In the meantime the fresh hands had been called up before the first
lieutenant, Mr Saltwell, and their names entered by the purser in the
ship's books, after the ordinary questions had been put to them to
ascertain for what rating they were qualified.

Some few, including the smugglers, were entered as able seamen; others
as ordinary seamen; and the larger number, who were unfit to go aloft,
or indeed not likely to be of much use in any way for a long time to
come, were rated as landsmen, and would have to do all the dirty work
about the ship.

The boys were next called up, and each of them gave an account of
himself.

Tom dreaded lest he should be asked any questions which he would be
puzzled to answer.

The first lieutenant glanced at all three, and in spite of his old
dress, entered Bill first, Jack next, and Tom, greatly to his surprise,
the last.  In those days no questions were asked where men or boys came
from.  At the present time, a boy who should thus appear on board a
man-of-war would find himself in the wrong box, and be quickly sent on
shore again, and home to his friends.  None are allowed to enter the
Navy until they have gone through a regular course of instruction in a
training ship, and none are received on board her unless they can read
and write well, and have a formally signed certificate that they have
obtained permission from their parents or guardians.



CHAPTER TWO.

HEAVING UP THE ANCHOR.

As soon as the boys' names were entered, they were sent forward, under
charge of the ship's corporal, to obtain suits of sailor's clothing from
the purser's steward, which clothing was charged to their respective
accounts.

The ship's corporal made them wash themselves before putting on their
fresh gear; and when they appeared in it, with their hair nicely combed
out, it was soon seen which of the three was likely to prove the
smartest sea boy.

Bill, who had never had such neat clothing on before, felt himself a
different being.  Tom strutted about and tried to look big.  Jack was
not much changed, except that he had a round hat instead of a cap, clean
clothes, and lighter shoes than the thick ones in which he had come on
board.

As neither Tom nor Bill knew the stem from the stern of the ship, and
even Jack felt very strange, they were handed over to the charge of Dick
Brice, the biggest ship's boy, with orders to him to instruct them in
their respective duties.

Dick had great faith in a rope's-end, having found it efficacious in his
own case.  He was fond of using it pretty frequently to enforce his
instructions.  Jack and Bill supposed that it was part of the regular
discipline of the ship; but Tom had not bargained for such treatment,
and informing Dick that he would not stand it, in consequence got a
double allowance.

He dared not venture to complain to his superiors, for he saw the
boatswain and the boatswain's mate using their colts with similar
freedom, and so he had just to grin and bear it.

At night, when the hammocks were piped down, the three went to theirs in
the forepart of the ship.  Bill thought he had never slept in a more
comfortable bed in his life.  Jack did not think much about the matter;
but Tom, who had always been accustomed to a well-made bed at home,
grumbled dreadfully when he tried to get into his, and tumbled out three
or four times on the opposite side before he succeeded.

Had it not been for Dick Brice, who slung their hammocks for them, they
would have had to sleep on the bare deck.

The next morning the gruff voice of the boatswain's mate summoned all
hands to turn out, and on going on deck they saw "Blue Peter" flying at
the fore, while shortly afterwards the Jews and all other visitors were
made to go down the side into the boats waiting for them.  The captain
came on board, the sails were loosed, and while the fife was setting up
a merry tune, the seamen tramped round at the capstan bars, and the
anchor was hove up.

The wind being from the eastward, in the course of a few minutes the
gallant frigate, under all sail, was gliding down through the smooth
waters of the Solent Sea towards the Needles.

Tom and Bill had something fresh to wonder at every minute.  It dawned
upon them by degrees that the forepart of the ship went first, and that
the wheel, at which two hands were always stationed, had something to do
with guiding her, and that the sails played an important part in driving
her on.

Jack had a great advantage over them, as he knew all this, and many
other things besides, and being a good-natured fellow, was always ready
to impart his knowledge to them.

By the time they had been three or four weeks at sea, they had learned a
great deal more, and were able to go aloft.

Bill had caught up to Jack, and had left Tom far behind.  The same
talent which had induced him to mend his ragged clothes, made him do,
with rapidity and neatness, everything else he undertook, while he
showed a peculiar knack of being quick at understanding and executing
the orders he received.

Tom felt rather jealous that he should be surpassed by one he had at
first looked down on as little better than a beggar boy.

It never entered into Jack's head to trouble himself about the matter,
and if Bill was his superior, that was no business of his.

There were a good many other people on board, who looked down on all
three of them, considering that they were the youngest boys, and were at
everybody's beck and call.

As soon as the frigate got to sea the crew were exercised at their guns,
and Jack, Tom, and Bill had to perform the duty of powder-monkeys.  This
consisted in bringing up the powder from the magazine in small tubs, on
which they had to sit in a row on deck, to prevent the sparks getting in
while the men were working the guns, and to hand out the powder as it
was required.

"I don't see any fun in firing away when there is no enemy in sight,"
observed Tom, as he sat on his tub at a little distance from Bill.

"There may not be much fun in it, but it's very necessary," answered
Bill.  "If the men were not to practise at the guns, how could they fire
away properly when we get alongside an enemy?  See! some of the fresh
hands don't seem to know much what they are about, or the lieutenant
would not be growling at them in the way he is doing.  I am keeping my
eye on the old hands to learn how they manage, and before long, I think,
if I was big enough, I could stand to my gun as well as they do."

Tom, who had not before thought of observing the crews of the guns, took
the hint, and watched how each man was engaged.

By being constantly exercised, the crew in a few weeks were well able to
work their guns; but hitherto they had fallen in with no enemy against
whom to exhibit their prowess.

A bright look-out was kept from the mast-head from sunrise to sunset for
a strange sail, and it was not probable that they would have to go long
without falling in with one, for England had at that time pretty nearly
all the world in arms against her.  She had managed to quarrel with the
Dutch, and was at war with the French and Spaniards, while she had
lately been engaged in a vain attempt to overcome the American colonies,
which had thrown off their allegiance to the British Crown.

Happily for the country, her navy was staunch, and many of the most
gallant admirals whose names have been handed down to fame commanded her
fleets; the captains, officers, and crews, down to the youngest
ship-boys, tried to imitate their example, and enabled her in the
unequal struggle to come off victorious.

The _Foxhound_ had for some days been cruising in the Bay of Biscay, and
was one morning about the latitude of Ferrol.  The watch was employed in
washing down decks, the men and boys paddling about with their trousers
tucked up to their knees, some with buckets of water, which they were
heaving about in every direction, now and then giving a shipmate, when
the first lieutenant's eye was off them, the benefit of a shower-bath:
others were wielding huge swabs, slashing them down right and left, with
loud thuds, and ill would it have fared with any incautious landsman who
might have got within their reach.  The men were laughing and joking
with each other, and the occupation seemed to afford amusement to all
employed.

Suddenly there came a shout from the look-out at the masthead of "Five
sail in sight."

"Where away?" asked Lieutenant Saltwell, who was on deck superintending
the operations going forward.

"Dead to leeward, sir," was the answer.

The wind was at the time blowing from the north-west, and the frigate
was standing close hauled, on the starboard tack, to the westward.

The mate of the watch instantly went aloft, with his spy-glass hung at
his back, to take a look at the strangers, while a midshipman was sent
to inform Captain Waring, who, before many minutes had elapsed, made his
appearance, having hurriedly slipped into his clothes.

On receiving the report of the young officer, who had returned on deck,
he immediately ordered the helm to be put up, and the ship to be kept
away in the direction of the strangers.

In a short time it was seen that most of them were large ships; one of
them very considerably larger than the _Foxhound_.

The business of washing down the decks had been quickly concluded, and
the crew were sent to their breakfasts.

Many remarks of various sorts were made by the men.  Some thought that
the captain would never dream of engaging so superior a force; while
others, who knew him well, declared that whatever the odds, he would
fight.

As yet no order had been received to beat to quarters, and many were of
opinion that the captain would only stand on near enough to ascertain
the character of the strangers, and then, should they prove enemies,
make all sail away from them.

Still the frigate stood on, and Bill, who was near one of the officers
who had a glass in his hand, heard him observe that one was a
line-of-battle ship, two at least were frigates, while another was a
corvette, and the fifth a large brig-of-war.

These were formidable odds, but still their plucky captain showed no
inclination to escape from them, but, on the contrary, seemed as if he
had made up his mind to bring them to action.

The question was ere long decided.  The drum beat to quarters, the men
went to their guns, powder and shot were handed up from below, giving
ample occupation to the powder-monkeys, and the ship was headed towards
the nearest of the strangers.  She was still some distance off when the
crew were summoned aft to hear what the captain had to say to them.

"My lads!" he said, "some of you have fought under me before now, and
though the odds were against us, we licked the enemy.  We have got
somewhat greater odds, perhaps, at present, but I want to take two or
three of those ships; they are not quite as powerful as they look, and
if you will work your guns as I know you can work them, we'll do it
before many hours have passed.  We have a fine breeze to help us, and
will tackle one after the other.  You'll support me, I know."

Three loud cheers were given as a response to this appeal, and the men
went back to their guns, where they stood stripped to their waists, with
handkerchiefs bound round their heads.

Notwithstanding the formidable array of the enemy, the frigate kept
bearing down under plain sail towards them.

Our heroes, sitting on their tubs, could see but very little of what was
going forward, though now and then they got a glimpse of the enemy
through the ports; but they heard the remarks made by the men in their
neighbourhood, who were allowed to talk till the time for action had
arrived.

"Our skipper knows what he's about, but that chap ahead of the rest is a
monster, and looks big enough to tackle us without the help of the
others," observed one of the crew of the gun nearest to which Tom was
seated.

"What's the odds if she carries twice as many teeth as we have! we'll
work ours twice as fast, and beat her before the frigates can come up to
grin at us," answered Ned Green, the captain of the gun.

Tom did not quite like the remarks he heard.  There was going to be a
sharp fight, of that there could be no doubt, and round shot would soon
be coming in through the sides, and taking off men's heads and legs and
arms.  It struck him that he would have been safer at school.  He
thought of his father and mother, and brothers and sisters, who, if he
was killed, would never know what had become of him; not that Tom was a
coward, but it was somewhat trying to the courage even of older hands,
thus standing on slowly towards the enemy.  When the fighting had once
begun, Tom was likely to prove as brave as anybody else; at all events,
he would have no time for thinking, and it is that which tries most
people.

The captain and most of the officers were on the quarter-deck, keeping
their glasses on the enemy.

"The leading ship under French colours appears to me to carry sixty-four
guns," observed the first lieutenant to the captain; "and the next, also
a Frenchmen, looks like a thirty-six gun frigate.  The brig is American,
and so is one of the sloops.  The sternmost is French, and is a biggish
ship."

"Whatever they are, we'll fight them, and, I hope, take one or two at
least," answered the captain.

He looked at his watch.  It was just ten o'clock.  The next moment the
headmost ship opened her fire, and the shot came whizzing between the
ship's masts.

Captain Waring watched them as they flew through the air.

"I thought so," he observed.  "There were not more than fifteen; she's a
store-ship, and will be our prize before the day is over.  Fire, my
lads!" he shouted; and the eager crew poured a broadside into the enemy,
rapidly running in their guns, and reloading them to be ready for the
next opponent.

The _Foxhound_ was standing along the enemy's line to windward, and as
she came abreast of each ship she fired with well-directed aim; and
though all the enemy's ships in succession discharged their guns at her,
not a shot struck her hull, though their object evidently was to cripple
her, so that they might surround her and have her at their mercy.

Tom, who had read about sea-fights, and had expected to have the shot
come rushing across the deck, felt much more comfortable on discovering
this, and began to look upon the Frenchmen as very bad gunners.

The _Foxhound's_ guns were all this time thundering away as fast as the
crews could run them in and load them, the men warming to their work as
they saw the damage they were inflicting on the enemy.

Having passed the enemy's line to windward, Captain Waring ordered the
ship to be put about, and bore down on the sternmost French ship, which,
with one of smaller size carrying the American pennant, was in a short
time so severely treated that they both bore up out of the line.  The
_Foxhound_, however, followed, and the other French ships and the
American brig coming to the assistance of their consorts, the _Foxhound_
had them on both sides of her.

This was just what her now thoroughly excited crew desired most, as they
could discharge their two broadsides at the same time; and right
gallantly did she fight her way through her numerous foes till she got
up with the American ship, which had been endeavouring to escape before
the wind, and now, to avoid the broadside which the English ship was
about to pour into her, she hauled down her colours.

On seeing this, the frigate's crew gave three hearty cheers; and as soon
as they had ceased, the captain's voice was heard ordering two boats
away under the command of the third lieutenant, who was directed to take
charge of the prize, and to send her crew on board the ship.

Not a moment was to be lost, as the rest of the enemy, under all sail,
were endeavouring to make their escape.

The boats of the prize, which proved to be the _Alexander_, carrying
twenty-four guns and upwards of a hundred men, were then lowered, and
employed in conveying her crew to the ship.

The American captain and officers were inclined to grumble at first.

"Very sorry, gentlemen, to incommode you," said the English lieutenant,
as he hurried them down the side; "but necessity has no law; my orders
are to send you all on board the frigate, as the captain is in a hurry
to go in chase of your friends, of which we hope to have one or two more
in our possession before long."

The lieutenant altered his tone when the Americans began to grumble.
"You must go at once, or take the consequences," he exclaimed; and the
prisoners saw that it would be wise to obey.

They were received very politely on board the ship, Captain Waring
offering to accept their parole if they were ready to give it, and
promise not to attempt to interfere with the discipline and regulations
of the ship.

As soon as the prisoners were transferred to the _Foxhound_, she made
all sail in chase of the large ship, which Captain Waring now heard was
the sixty-four gun ship _Menager_, laden with gunpowder, but now
mounting on her maindeck twenty-six long twelve-pounders, and on her
quarter-deck four long six-pounders, with a crew of two hundred and
twenty men.

Her force was considerably greater than that of the English frigate, but
Captain Waring did not for a moment hesitate to continue in pursuit of
her.  A stern chase, however, is a long chase.  The day wore on, and
still the French ship kept ahead of the _Foxhound_.

The crew were piped to dinner to obtain fresh strength for renewing the
fight.

"Well, lads," said Green, who was a bit of a wag in his way, as he
looked at the powder-boys still seated on their tubs, "as you have still
got your heads on your shoulders, you may put some food into your
mouths.  Maybe you won't have another opportunity after we get up with
the big 'un we are chasing.  I told you, mates," he added, turning to
the crew of his gun, "the captain knew what he was about, and would make
the Frenchmen haul down their flags before we hauled down ours.  I
should not be surprised if we got the whole lot of them."

The boys, having returned their powder to the magazine till it was again
wanted, were glad enough to stretch their legs, and still more to follow
Green's advice by swallowing the food which was served out to them.

The rest of the enemy's squadron were still in sight, scattered here and
there, and considerably ahead of the _Menager_; the frigate was,
however, gaining on the latter, and if the wind held, would certainly be
up with her some time in the afternoon.

Every stitch of canvas she could carry was set on board the _Foxhound_.

It was already five o'clock.  The crew had returned to their quarters,
and the powder-monkeys were seated on their tubs.  Both the pursuer and
pursued were on the larboard tack, going free.

"We have her now within range of our guns," cried Captain Waring.  "Luff
up, master, and we'll give her a broadside."

Just as he uttered the words a squall struck the frigate.  Over she
heeled, the water rushing in through her lower deck ports, which were
unusually low, and washing over the deck.

The crews of the lee guns, as they stood up to their knees in water,
fully believed that she was going over.  In vain they endeavoured to run
in their guns.  More and more she heeled over, till the water was nearly
up to their waists.  None flinched, however.  The guns must be got in,
and the ports shut, or the ship would be lost.

"What's going to happen?" cried Tom Fletcher.  "We are going down! we
are going down!"



CHAPTER THREE.

BILL DOES GOOD SERVICE.

The _Foxhound_ appeared indeed to be in a perilous position.  The water
washed higher and higher over the deck.  "We are going down! we are
going down!" again cried Tom, wringing his hands.

"Not if we can help it," said Jack.  "We must get the ports closed, and
stop the water from coming in."

"It's no use crying out till we are hurt.  We can die but once," said
Bill.  "Cheer up, Tom; if we do go to the bottom, it's where many have
gone before;" though Bill did not really think that the ship was
sinking.  Perhaps, had he done so, he would not have been so cool as he
now appeared.

"That's a very poor consolation," answered Tom to his last remark.  "Oh,
dear! oh, dear!  I wish that I had stayed on shore."

Though there was some confusion among the landsmen, a few of whom began
to look very white, if they did not actually wring their hands and cry
out, the crews of the guns remained at their stations, and hauled away
lustily at the tackles to run them in.  The captain, though on the
quarter-deck, was fully aware of the danger.  There was no time to
shorten sail.

"Port the helm!" he shouted; "hard a-port, square away the yards;" and
in a few seconds the ship, put before the wind, rose to an even keel,
the water, in a wave, rushing across the deck, some escaping through the
opposite ports, though a considerable portion made its way below.

The starboard ports were now speedily closed, when once more the ship
hauled up in chase.

The _Foxhound_, sailing well, soon got up again with the _Menager_, and
once more opened her fire, receiving that of the enemy in return.

The port of Ferrol could now be distinguished about six miles off, and
it was thought probable that some Spanish men-of-war lying there might
come out to the assistance of their friends.  It was important to make
the chase a prize before that should happen.

For some minutes Captain Waring reserved his fire, having set all the
sail the _Foxhound_ could carry.

"Don't fire a shot till I tell you," he shouted to his men.

The crews of the starboard guns stood ready for the order to discharge
the whole broadside into the enemy.  Captain Waring was on the point of
issuing it, the word "Fire" was on his lips, when down came the
Frenchman's flag, and instead of the thunder of their guns the British
seamen uttered three joyful cheers.

The _Foxhound_ was hove-to to windward of the prize, while three of the
boats were lowered and pulled towards her.  The third lieutenant of the
_Foxhound_ was sent in command, and the _Menager's_ boats being also
lowered, her officers and crew were transferred as fast as possible on
board their captor.

As the _Menager_ was a large ship, she required a good many people to
man her, thus leaving the _Foxhound_ with a greatly diminished crew.

It took upwards of an hour before the prisoners with their bags and
other personal property were removed to the _Foxhound_.  Captain Waring
and Lieutenant Saltwell turned their eyes pretty often towards the
harbour.  No ships were seen coming out of it.  The English frigate and
her two prizes consequently steered in the direction the other vessels
had gone, the captain hoping to pick up one or more of them during the
following morning.  Her diminished crew had enough to do in attending to
their proper duties, and in looking after the prisoners.

The commanders of the two ships were received by the captain in his
cabin, while the gun-room officers invited those of similar rank to mess
with them, the men taking care of the French and American crews.  The
British seamen treated them rather as guests than prisoners, being ready
to attend to their wants and to do them any service in their power.
Their manner towards the Frenchmen showed the compassion they felt,
mixed perhaps with a certain amount of contempt.  They seemed to
consider them indeed somewhat like big babes, and several might have
been seen feeding the wounded and nursing them with tender care.

During the night neither the watch below nor any of the officers turned
in, the greater number remaining on deck in the hopes that they might
catch sight of one of the ships which had hitherto escaped them.

Note: This action and the subsequent events are described exactly as
they occurred.

The American commander, Captain Gregory, sat in the cabin, looking
somewhat sulky, presenting a great contrast to the behaviour of the
Frenchman, Monsieur Saint Julien, who, being able to speak a little
English, allowed his tongue to wag without cessation, laughing and
joking, and trying to raise a smile on the countenance of his brother
captive, the American skipper.

"Why! my friend, it is de fortune of war.  Why you so sad?" exclaimed
the volatile Frenchman.  "Another day we take two English ship, and then
make all right.  Have you never been in England?  Fine country, but not
equal to `la belle France;' too much fog and rain dere."

"I don't care for the rain, or the fog, Monsieur; but I don't fancy
losing my ship, when we five ought to have taken the Englishman,"
replied the American.

"Ah! it was bad fortune, to be sure," observed Monsieur Saint Julien.
"Better luck next time, as you say; but what we cannot cure, dat we must
endure; is not dat your proverb?  Cheer up! cheer up! my friend."

Nothing, however, the light-hearted Frenchman could say had the effect
of raising the American's spirits.

A handsome supper was placed on the table, to which Monsieur Saint
Julien did ample justice, but Captain Gregory touched scarcely anything.
At an early hour he excused himself, and retired to a berth which
Captain Waring had courteously appropriated to his use.

During the night the wind shifted more to the westward, and then round
to the south-west, blowing pretty strong.  When morning broke, the
look-outs discovered two sail to the south-east, which it was evident
were some of the squadron that had escaped on the previous evening.
They were, however, standing in towards the land.

Captain Waring, after consultation with his first lieutenant and master,
determined to let them escape.  He had already three hundred and forty
prisoners on board, while his own crew amounted to only one hundred and
ninety.  Should he take another prize, he would have still further to
diminish the number of the ship's company, while that of the prisoners
would be greatly increased.  The French and American captains had come
on deck, and were standing apart, watching the distant vessels.

"I hope these Englishmen will take one of those fellows," observed
Captain Gregory to Monsieur Saint Julien.

"Why so, my friend?" asked the latter.

"They deserve it, in the first place, and then it would be a question
who gets command of this ship.  We are pretty strong already, and if
your people would prove staunch, we might turn the tables on our
captors," said the American.

"Comment!" exclaimed Captain Saint Julien, starting back.  "You forget
dat we did pledge our honour to behave peaceably, and not to interfere
with the discipline of the ship.  French officers are not accustomed to
break their parole.  You insult me by making the proposal, and I hope
dat you are not in earnest."

"Oh, no, my friend, I was only joking," answered the American skipper,
perceiving that he had gone too far.

Officers of the U.S.  Navy, we may here remark, have as high a sense of
honour as any English or French officer, but this ship was only a
privateer, with a scratch crew, some of them renegade Englishmen, and
the Captain was on a level with the lot.

The Frenchman looked at him sternly.  "I will be no party to such a
proceeding," he observed.

"Oh, of course not, of course not, my friend," said Captain Gregory,
walking aside.

It being finally decided to allow the other French vessels to escape,
the _Foxhound's_ yards were squared away, and a course shaped for
Plymouth, with the two prizes in company.

Soon after noon the wind fell, and the ships made but little progress.
The British crew had but a short time to sleep or rest, it being
necessary to keep a number of men under arms to watch the prisoners.

The Frenchmen were placed on the lower deck, where they sat down by
themselves; but the Americans mixed more freely with the English.  As
evening approached, however, they also drew off and congregated
together.  Two or three of their officers came among them.

Just before dusk Captain Gregory made his appearance, and was seen
talking in low whispers to several of the men.

Among those who observed him was Bill Rayner.  Bill's wits were always
sharp, and they had been still more sharpened since he came to sea by
the new life he was leading.  He had his eyes always about him to take
in what he saw, and his ears open whenever there was anything worth
hearing.  It had struck him as a strange thing that so many prisoners
should submit quietly to be kept in subjection by a mere handful of
Englishmen.  On seeing the American skipper talking to his men, he crept
in unobserved among them.  His ears being wide open, he overheard
several words which dropped from their lips.

"Oh, oh!" he thought.  "Is that the trick you're after?  You intend to
take our ship, do you?  You'll not succeed if I have the power to
prevent you."

But how young Bill was to do that was the question.  He had never even
spoken to the boatswain or the boatswain's mate.  It seemed scarcely
possible for him to venture to tell the first lieutenant or the captain;
still, if the prisoners' plot was to be defeated, he must inform them of
what he had heard, and that without delay.

His first difficulty was how to get away from among the prisoners.
Should they suspect him they would probably knock him on the head or
strangle him, and trust to the chance of shoving him through one of the
ports unobserved.  This was possible in the crowded state of the ship,
desperate as the act might seem.

Bill therefore had to wait till he could make his way on deck without
being remarked.  Pretending to drop asleep, he lay perfectly quiet for
some time; then sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he staggered away
forward, as if still drowsy, to make it be supposed that he was about to
turn into his hammock.  Finding that he was unobserved, he crept up by
the fore-hatchway, where he found Dick, who was in the watch off deck.

At first he thought of consulting Dick, in whom he knew he could trust;
but second thoughts, which are generally the best, made him resolve not
to say anything to him, but to go at once to either the first lieutenant
or the captain.

"If I go to Mr Saltwell, perhaps he will think I was dreaming, and tell
me to `turn into my hammock and finish my dreams,'" he thought to
himself.  "No!  I'll go to the captain at once; perhaps the sentry will
let me pass, or if not, I'll get him to ask the captain to see me.  He
cannot eat me, that's one comfort; if he thinks that I am bringing him a
cock-and-bull story, he won't punish me; and I shall at all events have
done my duty."

Bill thought this, and a good deal besides, as he made his way aft till
he arrived at the door of the captain's cabin, where the sentry was
posted.

"Where are you going, boy?" asked the sentry, as Bill in his eagerness
was trying to pass him.

"I want to see the captain," said Bill.

"But does the captain want to see you?" asked the sentry.

"He has not sent for me; but he will when he hears what I have got to
tell him," replied Bill.

"You must speak to one of the lieutenants, or get the midshipman of the
watch to take in your message, if he will do it," said the sentry.

"But they may laugh at me, and not believe what I have got to say,"
urged Bill.  "Do let me pass,--the captain won't blame you, I am sure of
that."

The sentry declared that it was his duty not to allow any one to pass.

While Bill was still pleading with him, the door of the inner cabin was
opened, and the captain himself came out, prepared to go on deck.

"What do you want, boy?" he asked, seeing Bill.

"Please, sir, I have got something to tell you which you ought to know,"
said Bill, pulling off his hat.

"Let me hear it then," said the captain.

"Please, sir, it will take some time.  You may have some questions to
ask," answered Bill.

On this the captain stepped back a few paces, out of earshot of the
sentry.

"What is it, boy?" he asked; "you seem to have some matter of importance
to communicate."

Bill then told him how he came to be among the prisoners, and had heard
the American captain and his men talking together, and proposing to get
the Frenchmen to rise with them to overpower the British crew.

Captain Waring's countenance showed that he felt very much disposed to
disbelieve what Bill had told him, or rather, to fancy that Bill was
mistaken.

"Stay there;" he said, and he went to the door of the cabin which he had
allowed the American skipper to occupy.

The berth was empty!  He came back and cross-questioned Bill further.
Re-entering the inner cabin, he found the French captain seated at the
table.

"Monsieur Saint Julien," he said; "are you cognisant of the intention of
the American captain to try and overpower my crew?"

"The proposal was made to me, I confess, but I refused to accede to it
with indignation; and I did not suppose that Captain Gregory would make
the attempt, or I should have informed you at once," answered Saint
Julien.

"He does intend to make it, though," said Captain Waring, "and I depend
on you and your officers to prevent your men from joining him."

"I fear that we shall have lost our influence over our men, but we will
stand by you should there be any outbreak," said the French captain.

"I will trust you," observed Captain Waring.  "Go and speak to your
officers while I take the steps necessary for our preservation."

Captain Waring on this left the cabin, and going on deck, spoke to the
first lieutenant and the midshipmen of the watch, who very speedily
communicated the orders they had received to the other officers.

The lieutenant of marines quickly turned out his men, while the
boatswain roused up the most trustworthy of the seamen.  So quickly and
silently all was done, that a strong body of officers and men well armed
were collected on the quarter-deck before any of the prisoners were
aware of what was going forward.  They were awaiting the captain's
orders, when a loud report was heard.  A thick volume of smoke ascended
from below, and the next instant, with loud cries and shouts, a number
of the prisoners were seen springing up the hatchway ladders.



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE FRIGATE BLOWN UP.

The Americans had been joined by a number of the Frenchmen, and some few
of the worst characters of the English crew--the jail-birds chiefly, who
had been won over with the idea that they would sail away to some
beautiful island, of which they might take possession; and live in
independence, or else rove over the ocean with freedom from all
discipline.

They had armed themselves with billets of wood and handspikes; and some
had got hold of knives and axes, which they had secreted.  They rushed
on deck expecting quickly to overpower the watch.

Great was their dismay to find themselves encountered by a strong body
of armed men, who seized them, or knocked them down directly they
appeared.

So quickly were the first overpowered that they had no time to give the
alarm to their confederates below, and thus, as fresh numbers came up,
they were treated like the first.  In a couple of minutes the whole of
the mutineers were overpowered.

The Frenchmen who had not actually joined them cried out for mercy,
declaring that they had no intention of doing so.

What might have been the case had the Americans been successful was
another matter.

All those who had taken part in the outbreak having been secured,
Captain Waring sent a party of marines to search for the American
captain.  He was quickly found, and brought on the quarter-deck.

"You have broken your word of honour; you have instigated the crew to
mutiny, and I should be justified were I to run you up to the yard-arm!"
said Captain Waring, sternly.

"You would have done the same," answered the American captain, boldly.
"Such acts when successful have always been applauded."

"Not, sir, if I had given my word of honour, as you did, not to
interfere with the discipline of the ship," said Captain Waring.  "You
are now under arrest, and, with those who supported you, will remain in
irons till we reach England."

Captain Gregory had not a word to say for himself.  The French captain,
far from pleading for him, expressed his satisfaction that he had been
so treated.

He and the officers who had joined him were marched off under a guard to
have their irons fixed on by the armourer.

After this it became necessary to keep a strict watch on all the
prisoners, and especially on the Americans, a large proportion of whom
were found to be English seamen, and some of the _Foxhound's_ crew
recognised old shipmates among them.

Captain Waring, believing that he could trust to the French captain and
his officers, allowed them to remain on their parole, a circumstance
which greatly aggravated the feelings of Captain Gregory.

The captain had not forgotten Bill, who, by the timely information he
had given, had materially contributed to preserve the ship from capture.
Bill himself did not think that he had done anything wonderful; his
chief anxiety was lest the fact of his having given the information
should become known.  The sentinel might guess at it, but otherwise the
captain alone could know anything about it.  Bill, as soon as he had
told his story to the captain, and found that it was credited, stole
away forward among the rest of the crew on deck, where he took very good
care not to say a word of what had happened; so that not till the
trustworthy men received orders to be prepared for an outbreak were they
aware of what was likely to occur.

He therefore fancied that his secret had been kept, and that it would
never be known; he was, consequently, surprised when the following
morning the ship's corporal, touching his shoulder, told him that the
captain wanted to speak to him.

Bill went aft, feeling somewhat alarmed at the thoughts of being spoken
to by the captain.

On the previous evening he had been excited by being impressed with the
importance of the matter he was about to communicate, but now he had
time to wonder what the captain would say to him.

He met Tom and Jack by the way.

"Where are you going?" asked Tom.

Bill told him.

"I shouldn't wish to be in your shoes," remarked Tom.  "What have you
been about?"

Bill could not stop to answer, but followed his conductor to the cabin
door.

The sentry, without inquiry, admitted him.

The captain, who was seated at a table in the cabin, near which the
first lieutenant was standing, received him with a kind look.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked.

"William Rayner, sir," said Bill.

"Can you read and write pretty well?"

"No great hand at either, sir," answered Bill.  "Mother taught me when I
was a little chap, but I have not had much chance of learning since
then."

"Should you like to improve yourself?" asked the captain.

"Yes, sir; but I have not books, or paper, or pens."

"We'll see about that," said the captain.  "The information you gave me
last night was of the greatest importance, and I wish to find some means
of rewarding you.  When we reach England, I will make known your conduct
to the proper authorities, and I should like to communicate with your
parents."

"Please, sir, I have no parents; they are both dead, and I have no
relations that I know of; but I am much obliged to you, sir," answered
Bill, who kept wondering what the captain was driving at.

"Well, my boy, I will keep an eye on you," said the captain.  "Mr
Saltwell, you will see what is best to be done with William Rayner," he
added, turning to the first lieutenant.  "If you wish to learn to read
and write, you can come and get instruction every day from my clerk, Mr
Finch.  I will give him directions to teach you; but remember you are
not forced to do it."

"Thank you, sir," said Bill.  "I should like to learn very much."

After a few more words, the captain dismissed Bill, who felt greatly
relieved when the formidable interview was over.

As he wisely kept secret the fact of his having given information of the
mutiny, his messmates wondered what could have induced the captain so
suddenly to take an interest in him.

Every day he went aft for his lesson, and Mr Finch, who was a
good-natured young man, was very kind.  Bill, who was remarkably quick,
made great progress, and his instructor was much pleased with him.

He could soon read easily, and Mr Finch, by the captain's orders, lent
him several books.

The master's assistant, calling him one day, told him that he had
received orders from the captain to teach him navigation, and, greatly
to his surprise, put a quadrant into his hands, and showed him how to
use it.

Bill all this time had not an inkling of what the captain intended for
him.  It never occurred to him that the captain could have perceived any
merits or qualifications sufficient to raise him out of his present
position, but he was content to do his duty where he was.

Tom felt somewhat jealous of the favour Bill was receiving, though he
pretended to pity him for having to go and learn lessons every day.
Tom, indeed, knew a good deal more than Bill, as he had been at school,
and could read very well, though he could not boast much of his writing.

Jack could neither read nor write, and had no great ambition to learn;
but he was glad, as Bill seemed to like it, that he had the chance of
picking up knowledge.

"Perhaps the captain intends to make you his clerk, or maybe some day
you will become his coxswain," observed Jack, whose ambition soared no
higher.  "I should like to be that, but I suppose that it is not
necessary to be able to read, or write, or sum.  I never could make any
hand at those things, but you seem up to them, and so it's all right
that you should learn."

Notwithstanding the mark of distinction Bill was receiving, the three
young messmates remained very good friends.

Bill, however, found himself much better off than he had before been.
That the captain patronised him was soon known to all, and few ventured
to lay a rope's-end on his back, as formerly, while he was well treated
in other respects.

Bill kept his eyes open and his wits awake on all occasions, and thus
rapidly picked up a good knowledge of seamanship, such as few boys of
his age who had been so short a time at sea possessed.

The _Foxhound_ and her prizes were slowly making their way to England.
No enemy appeared to rob her of them, though they were detained by
contrary winds for some time in the chops of the Channel.

At length the wind shifted a point or two, and they were able to get
some way up it.  The weather, however, became cloudy and dark, and no
observation could be taken.

It was a trying time, for the provisions and water, in consequence of
the number of souls on board, had run short.

The captain was doubly anxious to get into port; still, do all he could,
but little progress was made, till one night the wind again shifted and
the sky cleared.  The master was aware that the ship was farther over to
the French coast than was desirable, but her exact position it was
difficult to determine.

The first streaks of sunlight had appeared in the eastern sky, when the
look-out shouted--

"A ship to the southward, under all sail."

As the sun rose, his rays fell on the white canvas of the stranger,
which was now seen clearly, standing towards the _Foxhound_.

Captain Waring made a signal to the two prizes, which were somewhat to
the northward, to make all sail for Plymouth, while the _Foxhound_,
under more moderate canvas, stood off shore.

Should the stranger prove an enemy, of which there was little doubt,
Captain Waring determined to try and draw her away from the French
coast, which could be dimly seen in the distance.  He, at the same time,
did not wish to make an enemy suppose that he was flying.  Though ready
enough to fight, he would rather first have got rid of his prisoners,
but that could not now be done.

It was necessary, therefore, to double the sentries over them, and to
make them clearly understand that, should any of them attempt in any way
to interfere, they would immediately be shot.

Jack, Tom, and Bill had seen the stranger in the distance, and they
guessed that they should before long be engaged in a fierce fight with
her.  There was no doubt that she was French.  She was coming up
rapidly.

The captain now ordered the ship to be cleared for action.  The men went
readily to their guns.  They did not ask whether a big or small ship was
to be their opponent, but stood prepared to fight as long as the captain
and officers ordered them, hoping, at all events, to beat the enemy.

The powder-monkeys, as before, having been sent down to bring up the
ammunition, took their places on their tubs.  Of course they could see
but little of what was going forward, but through one of the ports they
at last caught sight of the enemy, which appeared to be considerably
larger than the _Foxhound_.

"We have been and caught a Tartar," Bill heard one of the seamen
observe.

"Maybe.  But whether Turk or Tartar, we'll beat him," answered another.

An order was passed along the decks that not a gun should be fired till
the captain gave the word.  The boys had not forgotten their fight a few
weeks before, and had an idea that this was to turn out something like
that.  Then the shot of the enemy had passed between the masts and the
rigging; but scarcely one had struck the hull, nor had a man been hurt,
so they had begun to fancy that fighting was a very bloodless affair.

"What shall we do with the prisoners, if we take her, I wonder?" asked
Tom.  "We've got Monsieurs enough on board already."

"I daresay the captain will know what to do with them," responded Bill.

"We must not count our chickens before they're hatched," said Jack.
"Howsumdever, we'll do our best."  Jack's remark, which was heard by
some of the crew of the gun near which he was seated, caused a laugh.

"What do you call your best, Jack?" asked Ned Green.

"Sitting on my tub, and handing out the powder as you want it," answered
Jack.  "What more would you have me do, I should like to know?"

"Well said, Jack," observed Green.  "We'll work our guns as fast as we
can, and you'll hand out the powder as we want it."

The talking was cut short by the voices of the officers ordering the men
to be ready for action.

The crews of the guns laid hold of the tackles, while the captains stood
with the lanyards in their hands, waiting for the word of command, and
ready at a moment's notice to fire.

The big ship got nearer and nearer.  She could now be seen through the
ports on the starboard side.

"Well, but she's a whopper!" exclaimed Ned Green, "though I hope we'll
whop her, notwithstanding.  Now, boys, we'll show the Monsieurs what we
can do."

Just then came the word along the decks--

"Fire!"

And the guns on the starboard side, with a loud roar, sent forth their
missiles of death.

While the crew were running them in to re-load, the enemy fired in
return; their shot came crashing against the sides, some sweeping the
upper deck, others making their way through the ports.

The smoke from the guns curled round in thick eddies, through which
objects could be but dimly seen.

The boys looked at each other.  All of them were seated on their tubs,
but they could see several forms stretched on the deck, some
convulsively moving their limbs, others stilled in death.

This was likely to be a very different affair from the former action.

Having handed out the powder, Jack, Tom, and Bill returned to their
places once more.

The _Foxhound's_ guns again thundered forth, and directly after there
came the crashing sound of shot, rending the stout sides of the ship.

For several minutes the roar was incessant.  Presently a cheer was heard
from the deck.

One of the Frenchman's masts had gone over the side; but before many
minutes had elapsed, a crashing sound overhead showed that the
_Foxhound_ had been equally unfortunate.

Her foremast had been shot away by the board, carrying with it the
bowsprit and maintopmast.

She was thus rendered almost unmanageable, but still her brave captain
maintained the unequal contest.

The guns, as they could be brought to bear, were fired at the enemy with
such effect that she was compelled to sheer off to repair damages.

On seeing this, the crew of the _Foxhound_ gave another hearty cheer;
but ere the sound had died away, down came the mainmast, followed by the
mizenmast, and the frigate lay an almost helpless hulk on the water.

Captain Waring at once gave the order to clear the wreck, intending to
get up jury-masts, so as to be in a condition to renew the combat should
the French ship again attack them.

All hands were thus busily employed.  The powder in the meantime was
returned to the magazine, and the guns run in and secured.

The ship was in a critical condition.

The carpenters, before anything else could be done, had to stop the
shot-holes between wind and water, through which the sea was pouring in
several places.

It was possible that the prisoners might not resist the temptation,
while the crew were engaged, to attempt retaking the ship.

The captain and officers redoubled their watchfulness.  The crew went
steadily about their work, as men who knew that their lives depended on
their exertions.  Even the stoutest-hearted, however, looked grave.

The weather was changing for the worse, and should the wind come from
the northward, they would have a hard matter to escape being wrecked,
even could they keep the ship afloat.

The enemy, too, was near at hand, and might at any moment bear down upon
them, and recommence the action.

The first lieutenant, as he was coming along the deck, met Bill, who was
trying to make himself useful in helping where he was wanted.

"Rayner," said Mr Saltwell, "I want you to keep an eye on the
prisoners, and report to the captain or me, should you see anything
suspicious in their conduct--if they are talking together, or look as if
they were waiting for a signal.  I know I can trust you, my boy."

Bill touched his hat.

"I will do my best, sir," he answered; and he slipped down to where the
prisoners were congregated.

They did not suspect that he had before informed the captain of their
intended outbreak, or it would have fared but ill with him.

Whatever might have been their intentions, they seemed aware that they
were carefully watched, and showed no inclination to create a
disturbance.

The greatest efforts were now made to set up the jury-masts.  The wind
was increasing, and the sea rising every minute.  The day also was
drawing on, and matters were getting worse and worse; still Captain
Waring and his staunch crew worked away undaunted.  If they could once
get up the jury-masts, a course might be steered either for the Isle of
Wight or Plymouth.  Sails had been got up from below; the masts were
ready to raise, when there came a cry of, "The enemy is standing towards
us!"

"We must beat her off, and then go to work again," cried the captain.

A cheer was the response.  The powder-magazine was again opened.  The
men flew to their guns, and prepared for the expected conflict.

The French ship soon began to fire, the English returning their salute
with interest.  The round shot, as before, whistled across the deck,
killing and wounding several of the crew.

The sky became still more overcast; the lightning darted from the
clouds; the thunder rattled, mocked by the roaring of the guns.

Bill saw his shipmates knocked over on every side; but, as soon as one
of the crew of a gun was killed, another took his place, or the
remainder worked the gun with as much rapidity as before.

The cockpit was soon full of wounded men.  Though things were as bad as
they could be, the captain had resolved not to yield.

The officers went about the decks encouraging the crew, assuring them
that they would speedily beat off the enemy.

Every man, even the idlest, was doing his duty.

Jack, Tom, and Bill were doing theirs.

Suddenly a cry arose from below of "Fire! fire!" and the next moment
thick wreaths of smoke ascended through the hatchways, increasing every
instant in density.

The firemen were called away.  Even at that awful moment the captain and
officers maintained their calmness.

Now was the time to try what the men were made of.  The greater number
obeyed the orders they received.  Buckets were handed up and filled with
water to dash over the seat of the fire.  Blankets were saturated and
sent down below.

The enemy ceased firing, and endeavoured to haul off from the
neighbourhood of the ill-fated ship.  In spite of all the efforts made,
the smoke increased, and flames came rushing up from below.  Still, the
crew laboured on; hope had not entirely abandoned them, when suddenly a
loud roar was heard, the decks were torn up, and hundreds of men in one
moment were launched into eternity.

Jack, Tom, and Bill had before this made their escape to the upper deck.
They had been talking together, wondering what was next to happen, when
Bill lost all consciousness; but in a few moments recovering his senses,
found himself in the sea, clinging to a piece of wreck.

He heard voices, but could see no one.  He called to Tom and Jack,
fancying that they must be near him, but no answer came.

He must have been thrown, he knew, to some distance from the ship, for
he could see the burning wreck, and the wind appeared to be driving him
farther and farther away from it.

The guns as they became heated went off, and he could hear the shot
splashing in the water around him.

"And Jack and Tom have been lost, poor fellows!" he thought to himself.
"I wish they had been sent here.  There's room enough for them on this
piece of wreck.

"We might have held out till to-morrow morning, when some vessel might
have seen us and picked us up."

Curiously enough, he did not think much about himself.  Though he was
thankful to have been saved, he guessed truly that the greater number of
his shipmates, and the unfortunate prisoners on board, must have been
lost; yet he regretted Jack and Tom more than all the rest.

The flames from the burning ship cast a bright glare far and wide over
the ocean, tinging the foam-topped seas.

Bill kept gazing towards the ship.  He could make out the Frenchman at
some distance off, and fancied that he saw boats pulling across the
tossing waters.

On the other side he could distinguish another vessel, which was also,
he hoped, sending her boats to the relief of the sufferers.

The whole ship, however, appeared so completely enveloped in fire, the
flames bursting out from all the ports and rising through every
hatchway, that he could not suppose it possible any had escaped.

He found it a hard matter to cling on to the piece of wreck, for the
seas were constantly washing over him.  Happily it was weighted below,
so that it remained tolerably steady.  Had it rolled over and over he
must inevitably have lost his hold and been drowned.

Though he had had very little of what is called enjoyment in life, and
his prospects, as far as he could see, were none of the brightest, he
still had no wish to die, and the instinct of self-preservation made him
cling to the wreck with might and main.

The tide, which was setting towards the shore, had got hold of his raft,
which was also driven by the wind in the same direction, and he found
himself drifting gradually away from the burning ship, and his chance of
being picked up by one of the boats diminishing.

He remembered that land had been in sight some time before the action,
but how far the ship had been from it when she caught fire he could not
tell, and when he turned his eyes to the southward he could see nothing
of it.

Some hours had passed away, so it seemed to him, when, as he turned his
eyes towards the ship, the flames appeared to rise up higher than ever.
Her stout hull was a mass of fire fore and aft--she was burning down to
the water's edge.  Then came the end--the wild waves washed over her,
and all was dark.

"There goes the old ship," thought Bill.  "I wonder how many on board
her a few hours ago are now alive.  Shall I reach the shore to-morrow
morning?  I don't see much chance of it, and if I don't, how shall I
ever live through another day?"



CHAPTER FIVE.

PICKED UP BY A FISHING-VESSEL.

After a time, Bill began to feel very hungry, and then he recollected
that at dinner he had clapped a biscuit into his pocket.  He felt for
it.  It was soaked through and through, and nearly turned into paste,
but it served to stay his appetite, and to keep up his strength.  At
length he became somewhat drowsy, but he did his best to keep awake.
Feeling about, he got hold of a piece of rope, with which he managed to
secure himself to the raft.  Had he found it before, it would have saved
him much exertion.

The feeling that there was now less risk of being washed away, made him
not so anxious as at first to withstand the strong desire which had
attacked him, and yielding to it, his eyes closed, and he dropped off to
sleep.

How long he had been in that state he could not tell, when he was
aroused by the sound of human voices.  Opening his eyes, he found that
the sun was shining down upon him, and looking round, he saw a small
vessel approaching.  He soon made her out to be a fishing craft with
five people on board.

They hailed him, but he was too weak to answer.  He managed, however, to
wave one of his hands to show that he was alive.

The fishing-vessel came on, and hove-to close to him.  The sea had
considerably gone down.  A boat was launched from her deck, and pulled
up to the raft, with two men in her.

They said something, but Bill could not understand them.  One of them,
as they got up alongside, sprang on to the raft, and casting off the
lashings which held Bill to it, the next instant was safe in the boat
with him in his arms.

The man having placed him in the stern-sheets, the boat quickly returned
to the cutter.

Bill was lifted on board, and the boat was then hauled up again on the
cutter's deck.  His preservers, though rough-looking men, uttered
exclamations in kind tones which assured Bill that he had fallen into
good hands.  One of them then carried him down into the little cabin,
and stripping off his wet clothes, placed him between the blankets in a
berth on one side.

In a few minutes the same man, who appeared to be the captain of the
fishing-vessel, returned with a cup of hot coffee and some white bread.
Stirring the coffee and blowing to cool it, he made signs to Bill that
he must drink some of it.

This Bill very gladly did, and he then felt able to eat some of the
bread, which seemed very sweet and nice.  This greatly restored his
strength.

He wished, however, that he could answer the questions which the men put
to him.  He guessed that they were Frenchmen, but not a word of French
did he know.

At last another man came into the cabin.

"You English boy?" asked the man.

"Yes," said Bill.

"Ship burn; blow up?" was the next question put to Bill, the speaker
showing what he meant by suitable action.

"Yes," said Bill, "and I am afraid all my shipmates are lost.  Though
you are French, you won't send me to prison, I hope?"

"Have no fear," answered the man, smiling; and turning round to his
companions, he explained what Bill had said.  They smiled, and Bill
heard them say, "Pauvre garcon."

"No! no! no!  You sleep now, we take care of you," said the interpreter,
whose knowledge of English was, however, somewhat limited.

Bill felt a strong inclination to follow the advice given him.  One of
the men, bundling up his wet clothes, carried them to dry at the little
galley fire forward.  The rest went on deck, and Bill in another minute
fell fast asleep.  Where the cutter was going Bill could not tell.  He
had known her to be a fishing-vessel by seeing the nets on deck, and he
had guessed that she was French by the way in which the people on board
had spoken.  They had given evidence also that they intended to treat
him kindly.

Some hours must have passed away when Bill again awoke, feeling very
hungry.  It was daylight, and he saw that his clothes were laid at the
foot of his berth.

Finding that his strength had returned, he got up, and began dressing
himself.  He had just finished when he saw that there was some one in
the opposite berth.  "Perhaps the skipper was up all night, and has
turned in," thought Bill; but as he looked again, he saw that the head
was certainly not that of a man, but the face was turned away from him.

His intention was to go on deck, to try and thank the French fishermen,
as far as he was able, for saving his life, but before he did so
curiosity prompted him to look again into the berth.

What was his surprise and joy to recognise the features of his shipmate,
Jack Peek!  His face was very pale, but he was breathing, which showed
that he was alive.  At all events, Bill thought that he would not awake
him, eager as he was to know how he had been saved.

He went up on deck, hoping that the man who had spoken a few words of
English might be able to tell him how Jack had been picked up.  On
reaching the deck he found that the vessel was close in with the land.
She was towing a shattered gig, which Bill recognised as one of those
belonging to the _Foxhound_.  He at once conjectured that Jack had
managed somehow or other to get into her.

As soon as he appeared, the Frenchmen began talking to him, forgetting
that he was unable to understand them.  As he made no reply, they
recollected themselves, and began laughing at their own stupidity.

One of them shouted down the fore-hatchway, and presently the
interpreter, as Bill called him, made his appearance.

"Glad see you.  All right now?" he said, in a tone of interrogation.

"All right," said Bill, "but I want you to tell me how you happened to
find my shipmate Jack Peek;" and Bill pointed down into the cabin.

"He, friend! not broder! no!  We find him in boat, but he not say how he
got dere.  Two oder men, but dey dead, so we heave dem overboard, and
take boat in tow," answered the man.

Jack himself was probably not likely to be able to give any more
information than the Frenchman had done.  Suddenly it struck his new
friends that Bill might be hungry, and the interpreter said to him, "You
want manger," pointing to Bill's mouth.

Bill understood him.  "Yes, indeed I do; I am ready for anything you can
give me," he said.

The fire was lighted, while a pot was put to boil on it, and, greatly to
Bill's satisfaction, in a few minutes one of the men, who acted as cook,
poured the contents into a huge basin which was placed on the deck, and
smaller basins and wooden spoons were handed up from below.

One man remaining at the helm, the remainder sat down and ladled the
soup into the smaller basins.

Bill eagerly held out his.

The mess, which consisted of fowl and pork and a variety of vegetables,
smelt very tempting, and as soon as it was cool enough, Bill devoured it
with a good appetite.

His friends asked him by signs if he would have any more.

"Thank you," he answered, holding out his basin.  "A spoonful or two;
but we must not forget Jack Peek.  When he awakes, he will be glad of
some;" and he pointed into the cabin.

The Frenchmen understood him, and made signs that they would keep some
for his friend, one of them patting him on the back and calling him "Bon
garcon."

Bill, after remaining some time on deck, again felt sleepy, and his head
began to nod.

The Frenchmen, seeing this, told him to go below.  He gladly followed
their advice, and descending into the cabin, lay down, and was once more
fast asleep.

The next time he awoke he found that the vessel was at anchor.  He got
up, and looked into Jack's berth.  Jack at that moment turned round, and
opening his eyes, saw his shipmate.

"Why, Bill, is it you!" he exclaimed.  "I am main glad to see you; but
where are we?--how did I come here?  I thought that I was in the
captain's gig with Tom Nokes and Dick Harbour.  What has become of them?
They were terribly hurt, poor fellows! though they managed to crawl on
board the gig."

Bill told him what he had learned from the Frenchman.

"They seem kind sort of fellows, and we have fallen into good hands," he
added; "but what they're going to do with us is more than I can tell."

Just then the captain of the fishing-vessel came below, and seeing that
Jack was awake, he called out to one of the men to bring a basin of the
soup which had been kept for him.

While he was swallowing it, a man brought him his clothes, which had
been sent forward to dry.  The captain then made signs to him to dress,
as he intended taking them both on shore with him.

Bill helped Jack, who was somewhat weak, to get on his clothes.  They
then went on deck.

The vessel lay in a small harbour, protected by a reef of rocks from the
sea.  Near the shore were a number of cottages, and on one side of the
harbour a line of cliffs running away to the eastward.

Several other small vessels and open boats lay at anchor around.

The captain, with the interpreter, whose name they found was Pierre, got
into the boat, the latter telling the lads to come with them.

They did as they were directed, sitting down in the stern-sheets, while
the captain and Pierre took the oars and pulled towards the shore.

It was now evening, and almost dark.  They saw the lights shining in the
windows of several of the cottages.

Pierre was a young man about nineteen or twenty, and, they fancied, must
be the captain's son.  They were right, they found, in their
conjectures.

Pierre made them understand, in his broken language, that he had some
short time before been a prisoner in England, where he had been treated
very kindly; but before he had time to learn much English, he had been
exchanged.

This had made him anxious to show kindness to the young English lads.

"Come along," said Pierre, as they reached the shore.  "I show you my
house, my mere, and my soeur.  They take care of you; but mind! you not
go out till dey tell you, or de gendarmes take you to prison perhaps.
Do not speak now till we get into de house."

Bill and Jack followed their guide while the old man rowed back to the
vessel.

Pierre led them to a cottage a little distance from the shore, which
appeared to be somewhat larger than those they had passed.  He opened
the door, telling them to come in with him, when he immediately again
closed it.

A middle-aged woman and a young girl, in high white caps with flaps over
the shoulders, were seated spinning.  They started up on seeing the two
young strangers, and began inquiring of Pierre who they were.  His
explanation soon satisfied them, and jumping up, Madame Turgot and
Jeannette took their hands, and began pouring out in voluble language
their welcomes.

"You say `Merci! merci!'" said Pierre, "which means `Thank you! thank
you!'"

"Merci! merci!" said Jack and Bill.

It was the first word of French they learned, and, as Jack observed,
came in very convenient.

What the mother and her daughter said they could not make out, but they
understood well enough that the French women intended to be kind.

"You hungry?" asked Pierre.

"Very," answered Jack.

Pierre said something to his mother and sister, who at once set about
spreading a cloth and placing eatables on the table--bread and cheese,
and pickled fish, and some salad.

"Merci! merci!" said Jack and Bill, as their hostess made signs to them
to fall to.  Pierre joined them, and in a short time Captain Turgot
himself came in.  He was as hospitably inclined as his wife and
daughter, and kept pressing the food upon the boys.

"Merci! merci!" was their answer.

At last Jeannette began to laugh, as if she thought it a good joke.

Jack and Bill tried hard to understand what was said.  Pierre observed
them listening, and did his best to explain.

From him they learned that they must remain quiet in the house, or they
might be carried away as prisoners of war.  He and his father wished to
save them from this, and intended, if they had the opportunity, enabling
them to get back to England.

"But how will you manage that?" asked Bill.

Pierre looked very knowing, and gave them to understand that smuggling
vessels occasionally came into the harbour, and that they might easily
get on board one of them, and reach the English coast.

"But we do not wish to get rid of you," said Pierre.  "If you like to
remain with us, you shall learn French, and become French boys; and you
can then go out and help us fish, and gain your livelihood."

Pierre did not say this in as many words, but Jack and Bill agreed that
such was his meaning.

"He's very kind," observed Bill; "but for my part, I should not wish to
become a French boy; though I would not mind remaining for a while with
the French dame and her daughter, for they're both very kind, and we
shall have a happy time of it."

This was said a day or two after their arrival.

Captain Turgot had fitted them up a couple of bunks in a small room in
which Pierre slept, and they were both far more comfortable than they
had ever been in their lives.

Captain Turgot's cottage was far superior to that of Jack's father; and
as for Bill, he had never before slept in so soft a bed.  They had to
remain in the house, however, all day; but Captain Turgot or Pierre took
them out in the evening, when they could not be observed, to stretch
their legs and get a little fresh air.

They tried to make themselves useful by helping Madame Turgot, and they
rapidly picked up from her and her daughter a good amount of French, so
that in a short time they were able to converse, though in a curious
fashion, it must be owned.

They soon got over their bashfulness, and asked the name of everything
they saw, which Jeannette was always ready to tell them.  Their attempts
at talking French afforded her vast amusement.

Though kindly treated, they at length got tired of being shut up in the
house, and were very well pleased when one day Captain Turgot brought
them each a suit of clothes, and told them that he was going away to
fish, and would take them with him.

Next morning they went on board the cutter, and sail being soon
afterwards made, she stood out of the harbour.



CHAPTER SIX.

TAKEN PRISONERS.

Jack and Bill made themselves very useful in hauling the nets, and
cleaning the fish when caught.  Jack was well up to the work, and showed
Bill how to do it.  Captain Turgot was highly pleased, and called them
"bons garcons," and said he hoped that they would remain with him till
the war was over, and as much longer as they liked.  When the cutter
returned into the harbour to land her fish, Jack and Bill were sent
below, so that the authorities might not see them and carry them off.
Captain Turgot was much afraid of losing them.  They were getting on
famously with their French, and Bill could chatter away already at a
great rate, though not in very good French, to be sure, for he made a
number of blunders, which afforded constant amusement to his companions,
but Pierre was always ready to set him right.

Jack made much slower progress.  He could not, he said, twist his tongue
about sufficiently to get out the words, even when he remembered them.
Some, he found, were wonderfully like English, and those he recollected
the best, though, to be sure, they had different meanings.  One day the
cutter had stood out farther from the shore than usual, her nets being
down, when, at daybreak, a strange sail was seen in the offing.  The
captain, after taking one look at her, was convinced that she was an
enemy.

"Quick! quick! my sons," he shouted: "we must haul the nets and make
sail, or we shall be caught by the English.  They are brave people, but
I have no wish to see the inside of one of their prisons."

All hands worked away as if their lives depended on their exertions.
Jack and Bill lent a hand as usual.  They scarcely knew what to wish.
Should the stranger prove to be an English ship, and come up with them,
they would be restored to liberty; but, at the same time, they would
feel very sorry that their kind friends should lose their vessel and be
made prisoners; still, Jack wanted to let his mother know that he was
alive, and Bill wished to be on board a man-of-war again, fighting for
Old England, and getting a foot or two up the ratlines.

His ambition had been aroused by what the captain had said to him, and
the assistant master had observed, though he had spoken in joke, that he
might, some day or other, become an admiral.

Bill had thought the subject over and over, till he began to fancy that,
could he get another chance, the road to fame might be open to him.  The
loss of the ship with the captain and officers seemed, to be sure, to
have overthrown all his hopes; but what had happened once might happen
again, and by attending to his duty, and keeping his eyes open, and his
wits awake, he might have another opportunity of distinguishing himself.

No one could possibly have suspected what was passing in Bill's mind, as
he worked away as energetically as the rest in stowing the nets and
making sail.

The stranger was now made out to a certainty to be an English frigate,
and a fast one, too, by the way she slipped through the water.

The wind was from the south-east, and being thus partially off shore,
would enable the frigate to stand in closer to the land than she
otherwise might have ventured to do.  This greatly diminished the
chances of the cutter's escape.

Captain Turgot, however, like a brave man, did not tear his hair, or
stamp, or swear, as Frenchmen are sometimes supposed to do, but, taking
the helm, set every sail his craft could carry, and did his best, by
careful steering, to keep to windward of the enemy.

Could he once get into harbour he would be safe, unless the frigate
should send her boats in to cut his vessel out.  The cutter possessed a
couple of long sweeps.  Should it fall calm, they would be of use; but
at present the breeze was too strong to render them necessary.

The crew kept looking astern to watch the progress made by their
pursuer, which was evidently coming up with them.  What chance, indeed,
had a little fishing craft with a dashing frigate?

An idea occurred to Jack which had not struck Bill.

"Suppose we are taken--and it looks to me as if we shall be before
long--what will they say on board the frigate when they find us rigged
out in fisherman's clothes?  They will be thinking we are deserters, and
will be hanging us up at the yard-arm."

"I hope it won't go so hard as that with us," answered Bill.  "We can
tell them that the Frenchmen took away our clothes, and rigged us out in
these, and we could not help ourselves."

"But will they believe us?" asked Jack.

On that point Bill acknowledged that there was some doubt; either way,
he would be very sorry for Captain Turgot.  One thing could be said,
that neither their fears nor wishes would prevent the frigate from
capturing the cutter.  They looked upon that as a settled matter.  As
long, however, as there was a possibility of escaping, Captain Turgot
resolved to persevere.

Matters began to look serious, when a flash and wreath of smoke was seen
to issue from one of the bow guns of the frigate, and a shot came
jumping over the water towards them.  It did not reach them, however.

"You must get nearer, monsieur, before you hurt us," said the captain,
as he watched the shot fall into the water.

Shortly afterwards another followed.  It came close up to the cutter;
but a miss is as good as a mile, and the little vessel was none the
worse for it.

Another shot, however, might produce a very different result.

"I say, Bill, I don't quite like the look of things," observed Jack.
"Our skipper had better give in, or one of those shot will be coming
aboard us, and carrying somebody's head off."

"He doesn't look as if he had any thoughts of the sort," said Bill; "and
as long as there is any chance of keeping ahead, he'll stand on."

Soon after Bill had made this remark, another shot was fired from the
frigate, and passed alongside the cutter, falling some way ahead.

Had it been better aimed, the effect might have been somewhat
disastrous.  Still Captain Turgot kept at the helm.

Some of the crew, however, began to cry out, and begged him to heave to.
He pointed to the shore.

"Do you want to see your wives and families again?" he asked.  "Look
there!  How smooth the water is ahead.  The wind is falling, and the
frigate will soon be becalmed.  She'll not think it worth while to send
her boats after us.  Come! out with the sweeps, and we shall soon draw
out of shot of her.  Look there! now her topsails are already flapping
against the masts.  Be of good courage, my sons!"

Thus incited, the crew got out the sweeps.

Jack and Bill helped them with as much apparent good-will as if they had
had no wish to be on board the frigate.

The little vessel felt the effects of the powerful sweeps, and, in spite
of the calm, continued to move ahead.

Again and again the frigate fired at her, but she was a small object,
and each shot missed.

This encouraged the French crew, whose spirits rose as they saw their
chance of escaping increase.

Farther and farther they got from the frigate, which, with the
uncertainty from what quarter the wind would next blow, was afraid of
standing closer in shore.

By nightfall the cutter, by dint of hard rowing, had got safe into
harbour.

When Dame Turgot and Jeannette heard what had occurred, they expressed
their delight at seeing their young friends back.

"We must not let you go to sea again, for it would be a sad thing to
hear that you had been captured and shot for being deserters," said
Jeannette.

She had the same idea which had occurred to Jack.

The English frigates were at this time so frequently seen off the coast,
that Captain Turgot, who had several boats as well as the cutter,
thought it prudent to confine his operations to inshore fishing, so as
not to run the risk of being captured.

Jack and Bill sometimes went out with him, but, for some reason or
other, he more generally left them at home.

Pierre, who was a good swimmer, induced them to come down and bathe with
him in the morning, and gave them instruction in the art.

Jack could already swim a little.  Bill took to it at once, and beat him
hollow; in a short time being able to perform all sorts of evolutions.
He was soon so perfectly at home in the water, that he declared he felt
able to swim across the Channel, if he could carry some food with him to
support himself on the way.

Jack laughed at the idea, observing that "nobody ever had swum across
the Channel, and he did not believe that anybody ever would do so."

Pierre advised Bill not to make the attempt.

"No fear," said Jack.  "He'll not go without me, and I am not going to
drown myself if I can help it."

Bill, however, often thought over the matter, and tried to devise some
plan by which he and Jack might manage to get across.  His plans came to
nothing; and, indeed, the Channel where they were was much too wide to
be crossed except in a small vessel or in a large boat.  Jack was
beginning to speak French pretty well, and Bill was able to gabble away
with considerable fluency, greatly to the delight of Jeannette, who was
his usual instructress.  He tried to teach her a little English in
return, but she laughed at her own attempts, and declared that she
should never be able to pronounce so break-jaw a language.

Bill thought that she got on very well, but she seemed more anxious to
teach him French than to learn English herself.

Several weeks more passed by.  Well treated as they were, still the boys
had a longing to return to England, though the opportunity of doing so
appeared as far off as ever.

They were in the house one afternoon, laughing and joking merrily with
Jeannette, while Dame Turgot was away at the neighbouring town to
market, when the door opened, and she entered, with a look of alarm on
her countenance.

"Quick, quick, come here!" she said; and seizing them both by the arms,
she dragged them into the little inner room.

"Pull off your clothes and jump into bed!" she exclaimed.  "Whatever you
hear, don't move or speak, but pretend to be fast asleep."

They obeyed her; and snatching up their jackets and trousers, she
hurried from the room, locking the door behind her.

She had just time to tumble their clothes into a chest, when a loud
knocking was heard at the door.  She opened it, and several soldiers,
under the command of a sergeant, entered.

The boys guessed who they were by their voices, and the noise they made
when grounding their muskets.

"Well, messieurs," said Dame Turgot, with perfect composure, "and what
do you want here?"

"We come in search of prisoners.  It is reported that you have some
concealed in your house," said the sergeant.

"Ma foi! that is a good joke!  I conceal prisoners indeed!" exclaimed
the dame, laughing.  "Pray who are these notable prisoners?"

"That's for you to say.  We only know that you have prisoners," answered
the sergeant.

"Then, if you will have it so, one may possibly be a general, and the
other an admiral, and the sooner they are lodged in the Bastille, the
better for the safety of France," answered the dame, laughing.  "I am a
loyal Frenchwoman, and can cry `Vive le Roi!'  `Vive la France!' with
all my heart."

Jack and Bill, who had quaked at the thoughts of being made prisoners by
the soldiers, now began to have better hope of escaping.

The sergeant, however, was not to be deceived by Dame Turgot's manner.

"Come, come, I must search your house, notwithstanding.  For that
purpose I was sent, and I must perform my duty," he said; and he hunted
round the room.

"Now let us look into your room;" and the soldiers, entering, began
poking about with their bayonets, running them under the bed, and
through the bedding, in a way likely to kill anybody concealed.

Jeannette's little room was visited and treated in the same manner.

"And what's this room?" asked the sergeant, pointing to the boys' room.

"That?  That is a closet," answered the dame; "or if you like it, the
general and admiral are both there fast asleep, but I am unwilling to
disturb them."

She said this in a laughing tone, as if she were joking.

"Well, open the door," said the sergeant, not expecting to find anybody.

"But I tell you the door is locked.  Who has got the key, I wonder?"
said the dame.

"Come, come, unlock the door, or we must force it open," said the
sergeant, making as if he was about to prise it open with his bayonet.

On this the dame pulled the key out of her pocket, and opening the door,
exclaimed--

"There in one bed you will find the general, and in the other the
admiral; or, without joking, they are two poor boys whom my good man
picked up at sea, and already they are more French than English."

The sergeant, looking into the beds, discovered the boys.

"Come, get up, mes garcons," he said; "you must come with me, whoever
you are, and give an account of yourselves."

Neither of the boys made any reply, deeming it wiser to keep silence.

"Come along," he said; and he dragged first one, and then the other, out
of bed.

"Bring the boys' clothes," he added, turning to the dame, who quickly
brought their original suits.

They soon dressed themselves, hanging their knives round their necks.

"I told you the truth.  You see who and what they are!" exclaimed the
dame.

Jeannette, too, pleaded eloquently on their behalf, but the sergeant was
unmoved.

"All you say may be right, but I must take them," he answered.  "Come--
quick march!"

He allowed them, however, to take an affectionate farewell of the dame
and Jeannette, the latter bursting into tears as she saw them dragged
off by the soldiers.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

SHUT UP IN A TOWER.

Jack and Bill marched along in the middle of the party of soldiers,
endeavouring, as well as they could, to keep up their spirits, and to
appear unconcerned.  Where they were going they could not tell.

"Jack," whispered Bill, "don't let these fellows know that we understand
French.  We may learn something from what they say to each other; and
they are not likely to tell us the truth, if we were to ask them
questions."

"Trust me for that," answered Jack.  "One might suppose, from the way
they treat us, that they take us for desperate fellows, who would make
nothing of knocking them down right and left, if it were not for their
muskets and bayonets."

"All right," responded Bill; "we'll keep our wits awake, and maybe we
shall find an opportunity of getting away."

"I am ready for anything you propose," said Jack.  "We might have found
it more easy to make our escape if Madame Turgot had brought us back our
French toggery; but still, for my part, I feel more comfortable-like in
my own clothes."

"So do I," said Bill.  "Somehow I fancy that I am more up to work
dressed as an English sailor than I should be as a French boy.  I only
hope our friends will not get into any scrape for having concealed us.
They are wonderfully kind people, and I shall always be ready to do a
good turn to a Frenchman for their sakes."

"So shall I after I've thrashed him," said Jack.  "If the French will go
to war with us, they must take the consequences."

The soldiers did not interfere with the lads, but allowed them to talk
on to each other as much as they liked.  The road they followed led them
to the eastward, as far as they could judge, at no great distance from
the shore.

After marching about a couple of miles, they reached a small town, or
village rather, the houses being scattered along the shores of another
bay much larger than the one they had left.  A river of some size ran
into the bay, and on a point of land near the mouth, on a height, stood
an old tower, which had been built, apparently, for the purpose of
guarding the entrance.

It was in a somewhat dilapidated condition, and seemed now very unfit
for its original object, for a few round shot would have speedily
knocked it to pieces.  It might, however, afford shelter to a small body
of infantry, who could fire from the loopholes in its walls down on any
boats, attempting to ascend the river.

"I wonder if they are going to shut us up there!" said Jack, as the
sergeant led the party in the direction of the tower.

"No doubt about it," replied Bill; "but it doesn't seem to be a very
terrible place; and, by the look of the walls, I have a notion that I
could climb to the top, or make my way down them, without the slightest
difficulty."

They had time to make their observations before they reached the
entrance gate.

A small guard of soldiers were stationed in the tower, to whose charge
the prisoners were handed over.

The officer commanding the party was a gruff old fellow, who seemed to
have no feeling of compassion for his young prisoners.

After putting various questions to the sergeant who had brought them, he
made signs to them to accompany him to the top of the building, and led
the way, attended by two soldiers who followed close behind, up a flight
of exceedingly rickety stairs, which creaked and groaned as they
ascended.

On reaching the top the officer opened a door, which led into a small
room, the highest apparently in the building; he then signed to the boys
to go in, and without saying a word closed the door and locked it.  They
soon afterwards heard him and his men descending the stairs.

"Here we are," said Jack.  "I wonder what's going to happen next!"

"Why, if they leave us here long enough, the next thing that will happen
will be that we'll make our way out again," replied Bill.  "Look at
those windows!  Though they are not very big, they are large enough for
us to squeeze through, or it may be more convenient to make our way out
by the roof.  I can see daylight through one or two places, which shows
that the tiles are not very securely fastened on."

"And if we do get out, where shall we go?" asked Jack.

"It won't do to return to the Turgots; we might be getting them into
trouble.  We must make our way down to the sea shore, and then travel on
till we can reach some port or other, and when there try to get on board
a smuggling lugger, as Captain Turgot at first proposed we should do,"
replied Bill.

"It may be a hard job to do that," said Jack; "and I should say it would
be easier to run off with a boat or some small craft which we two could
handle, and make our way in her across Channel.  I know where to find
the polar star.  I have often been out at night when father steered by
it, and we should be sure, some time or other, to make the English
coast."

"I should not like to run away with a poor man's vessel.  What would he
say in the morning when he found his craft gone?" observed Bill.  "It
would be taking what is not ours to take.  I never did and never would
do that."

Jack argued the point.

"The French are enemies of the English," he said, "and therefore
Englishmen have a perfect right to best them either afloat or on shore."

Bill said he would consider the subject, and in the meantime they made a
further survey of their prison.  It could not be called luxuriantly
furnished, considering that there was only a bench of no great width
running along the side of one of the walls, and the remains of a table.
One of the legs had gone, and part of the top, and it was propped up by
a couple of empty casks.

There were neither bedsteads nor bedding of any description, but the
bench was of sufficient length to allow both the boys to lie down on it.

The sun was on the point of setting when they reached the tower, and
darkness soon stole on them.

"I wonder whether they intend to give us any supper," said Jack, "or do
they expect us to live on air?"

"I can hold out till to-morrow morning, but I should be thankful if they
would bring us up something to-night; and we should be the better able
to make our escape, if we have the opportunity," observed Bill.

"Then I propose that we make a tremendous row, and that will bring some
one up to sea what's the matter.  We can then point to our mouths to
show that we are hungry, and perhaps they will take compassion on us,"
said Jack.

Bill agreeing to Jack's proposal, they began jumping and stamping about
the room, and singing at the top of their voices, in a way which could
scarcely fail to be heard by the men in the guard-room below.

They were in a short time convinced that their proceedings had produced
the desired effect; for when they ceased to make the noise, they heard
the heavy step of a man ascending the creaking stairs.  It had not
occurred to them that he might possibly come with a thick stick in his
hand, to thrash them for making a row.  The idea, however, flashed
across Jack's mind by the time the man was half-way up.

"We may get more kicks than ha'pence for what we've been doing," he
observed; "however, it cannot be helped; we must put a good face on the
matter, and let him fancy that it is the way English boys have of
showing when they are hungry.  If he does not make out what we mean,
we'll say, `manger, manger,' and he'll then know what we want."

Bill laughed.  He was not much afraid of a beating.  He reminded Jack
that he must not say anything more than he proposed, or the Frenchmen
might find out that they understood their language.

The man came slowly up the steps, which creaked and groaned louder and
louder.

"I'll tell you what," said Bill.  "If those steps are as rotten as they
appear to be, we might pull some of them up, and so prevent the guard
from reaching this room, and finding out that we have made our escape."

"We should have to get the door open first," observed Jack, "and that
would be no easy matter."

"More easy than you may suppose," said Bill.  "I'll try and shove
something into the catch of the lock while the Frenchman is in the
room."

Just then the door opened, and a soldier entered, with a lantern in one
hand, and, as Jack expected, a stick in the other.  It was not, however,
a very thick one, and Jack thought, as he eyed it, that its blows,
though they might hurt, would not break any bones; however, neither he
nor Bill had any intention of being thrashed if they could help it.

The soldier began at once to inquire, in an angry tone, why they had
made so much noise.

They pretended not to understand him; but as he lifted his stick to
strike at them, they ran round the room, Jack shouting "Manger! manger!"
and pointing to his mouth.

He could easily manage to keep out of the Frenchman's reach, but at last
he allowed himself to be caught for a minute at the farther end of the
room, thus giving Bill time to reach the door.

Bill made good use of the opportunity, while the Frenchman's back was
turned, to carry out his intention.

"All right," he cried out; and as soon as Jack heard him, he skipped out
of the Frenchman's way, as he had no wish to receive more blows than he
could avoid.  The soldier, on seeing Bill, attacked him next, but he
easily evaded most of the blows aimed at him, till the soldier grew
weary of the chase.

"Manger! manger!" cried both the boys at once, in various tones,
sometimes imploring, at others expostulating, and then as if they were
excited by anger and indignation that they should be so treated.

The soldier understood them clearly enough, and probably thought to
himself that unless he could bring some food to keep the young prisoners
quiet, he might have frequent trips to make to the top of the tower.

"Ma foi!  I suppose that you have had nothing to eat for some hours," he
observed, in French.  "I'll see what I can get for you; but remember,
you must be quiet, or you will be left to starve."

They were well pleased to hear this; but still pretending not to
understand him, they continued crying out, "Manger! manger!"

At last the soldier took his departure, locking the door, as he
supposed, behind him.

As soon as they knew, by the sounds he made descending the steps, that
he had got some distance down, the boys ran to the door, and, to their
satisfaction, found that they could easily open it, though it appeared
to be securely locked.

From the remarks the Frenchman had made, they had some hopes that he
would bring them food; they therefore lay down on the bench to await his
return.

Greatly to their satisfaction, in a short time they again heard a step
on the stair, and the soldier who had before paid them a visit entered,
carrying a basket with some bread and cheese, dried figs, and some wine
in a bottle.  He also brought up a piece of candle, and a lump of wood
with a spike in it, which served as a candlestick.

He placed these on the table with the contents of the basket.

"There," he said, "eat away; you may have a long march to-morrow, and if
you haven't strength we may have to carry you."

The boys pretended not to understand him; but both exclaimed, as they
saw the viands, "Merci! merci!" and put out their hands to shake that of
the soldier, who seemed, while performing a kind action, to be in much
better humour than before.

"Mangez! mes braves garcons," he remarked.  "What is over you can have
for breakfast to-morrow morning, as maybe you'll get nothing else
brought you."

"Merci! merci!" answered Jack and Bill, as they escorted the soldier to
the door, letting him suppose that these were the only two words they
understood.

As soon as he had turned the key in the door, they hurried to the table,
and eagerly devoured some of the bread and cheese.

"It's fortunate we've got so large a stock of food," said Bill; "there's
enough here, if we are careful of it, for a couple of days."

There was in the bottle but a small allowance of wine, which was
excessively sour; but it served to quench their thirst, though they
agreed that they would much rather have had fresh water.

Having finished their supper, they divided the remainder of the food
into two portions, which they stowed away in their pockets.  They then
waited till they had reason to suppose, from hearing no noise ascending
the stairs, that the soldiers in the guard-room had gone to sleep.

Having cautiously opened the door, they next examined the steps, and
found that they could wrench up those of the upper part of the flight
without making much noise.  They had to be quick about it, as their
candle would soon burn out.

First, having closed the door, they got up seven of the steps, beginning
at the uppermost one, till they formed a gap which it would be
impossible for a man to spring over.  The boards they carried down as
they descended, when they found themselves in another storey, the whole
of which was occupied by one large room without doors, the reason, of
course, why it had not been made their prison.

Their candle had now nearly burned out.  Having hung their shoes round
their necks, they were able to step softly.  Hunting about, they
discovered an empty space under the stairs, in which they stowed the
pieces of wood.

"Perhaps we might get down by the stairs," whispered Jack.

"The chances are that we should find a door to stop us at the bottom,"
returned Bill.  "We must try to get down the outside.  The walls are so
full of holes that we might manage it, and I am ready to go first and
try."

The question was, on which side should they attempt to make their
descent?  On looking through the narrow windows, they observed a gleam
of light coming out below them on one side; probably that was from the
guard-room, and they accordingly fixed on the opposite side, where all
was dark.  They ran no little chance of breaking their necks, but about
that they did not trouble themselves.  If a cat could get up, they
believed that they could get down, by clinging with toes and fingers,
and teeth, if necessary, to the wall.

They, however, made the fullest examination in their power to ascertain
the best spot for their descent; they looked out of every window in
succession, but at last arrived at the conclusion that the attempt to
scramble down a perpendicular wall was too hazardous to be made.  They
now began to fear that their enterprise must be abandoned, and that they
should be compelled to make their way first to a lower storey, which,
for what they could tell, might be inhabited; or else that they must
descend the creaking stairs, and run a still greater chance of being
discovered.

"Here's another window," said Bill; "let's look through that."

He climbed up to it, and gazed out.  Great was his satisfaction to
perceive the top of a massive wall a few feet below him.  The tower had
been a portion of an old castle, and the end of this wall was a mass of
ruins, but quite thick enough to enable them to scramble along the top
of it, and Bill had no doubt that they thence could easily descend to,
the level ground.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE ESCAPE--CONCEALED IN A CAVERN.

Bill drew his head in from the window, and beckoned to Jack, who
followed him up; and as there was no time to be lost, he at once dropped
down on to the top of the wall.  Jack came next, fortunately without
dislodging any stones, which might have rattled down and betrayed their
proceedings.  Bill leading, they made their way on hands and knees along
the top of the wall, which, being fringed in most places with bushes,
contributed to conceal them from any passers-by.  They had to move
cautiously for the reason before given, and also to avoid the risk of
falling down any gap in the wall which time might have produced.

As Bill had expected, the further end of the wall was broken gradually
away, forming an easy descent.  Down this they climbed, feeling their
way with their feet, and not letting go of one mass of ruin till they
had found a foothold on a lower.  Thus they at length had the
satisfaction of standing on the firm ground outside the walls.

They had now to consider in which direction they should direct their
flight.

The river was on one side of them, and though they might swim across
they would run the risk of being discovered while so doing.  They
finally decided to make for the sea shore, to the westward of the bay,
and to lie hid among the rocks till the search for them should be given
up.

They accordingly stole round the building, keeping on the side away from
the guard-room, till they got into a lane which led at the back of the
village down towards the shore.  If they could once get there they hoped
to be safe.

Few lights in the village were burning, as the inhabitants retired early
to bed; but two or three still twinkled from some cottages at the
farther end.  Possibly the owners had gone out fishing, and had only
lately returned.

They had got some distance from the tower, and no cottage was near, when
Jack stopped.

"I've been thinking that we might get on board one of the fishing-boats,
which have just come in, and go off in her," he whispered.

"I could not do it," said Bill.  "I have said before--what would the
poor fishermen think in the morning when they found their boat gone, the
only means they may have of supporting their wives and families?"

Jack did not agree with Bill in this, but it was not a time to argue the
point, so they set off again, and continued running till they reached a
gap in the cliff, down which the road led.  They then made their way to
the left, under the cliffs, in the direction of the village where they
had so long resided.

The tide was out, and they wisely kept close down to the water, so that
the returning sea might obliterate their footsteps.

Jack proposed returning to Captain Turgot's, but Bill observed that that
would not be fair to their friends, who would, of course, be exposed to
great danger by again harbouring them, and who yet would not like to
deliver them up.

"No, no, we must not do that," he said.  "The sooner we can find a place
to hide in the better.  The cliff hereabouts appears to be broken, and
full of hollows, and perhaps, if we search for it, we shall discover
some spot fit for our purpose."

While they were talking the moon rose; and, though on the decrease,
afforded a good deal of light, and greatly assisted them in their
search.

The sea where they were would, they saw, at high tide, completely cover
the whole beach, so they must take care to find a place beyond its
reach.

They anxiously searched about.  The night was drawing on, and they must
find concealment before daylight, which would expose them to the view of
any boats passing near the beach, or to people looking for them from the
cliffs above.

They climbed up at several places without discovering any hollow
sufficiently deep to conceal them effectually; still they persevered,
and at last they reached a black rock which projected out from the
cliff, and ran some way down the beach.  From its appearance they saw
that it must be covered at high-water.  They made their way round it, as
the sides were too smooth to climb over, and then once more reached the
foot of the cliff.

The tide was now rising rapidly, and they saw that they would be exposed
to the danger of being caught by the sea, could they not get some
distance up the cliff.  They were hurrying on when Bill exclaimed--

"There's a cave, and it may perhaps run some way back in the cliff.  We
shall soon find out by the feel of the rock whether the water fills it
up, and if not, we couldn't have a better hiding-place."

They climbed up the slippery rock, and found themselves in a cavern with
a low arched entrance.  This looked promising.  They groped their way
onwards.  As they advanced, their ears caught the gentle sound of a tiny
streamlet, which issued from the rock, while the ground beneath their
feet was perfectly dry, consisting in some places of hard rock, in
others of soft, warm sand.

Looking back, they could distinguish the ocean, with the moonlight
shining on it.

"We shall be safe here, I think," said Bill.  "When daylight comes, we
shall be able to find our way farther in, and perhaps discover some nook
in which we may remain hidden, even were people to come to the mouth of
the cave to look for us."

Jack agreed that there was no risk of the tide rising to the place where
they then were, so they sat down on the dry sand, and being tired from
their exertions, very soon fell fast asleep.

Jack was not much addicted to dreaming.  When he went to sleep he did so
in right earnest, and might have slept through a general engagement, if
he had not been called to take a part in it.

Bill had a more imaginative mind, which was seldom altogether at rest.
He fancied sometimes that he was escaping from the top of the tower, and
tumbling head over heels to the bottom; at others that he was running
along, with the Frenchmen shouting after him to stop.  Then he fancied
that one with a long pair of legs had overtaken him, and was grasping
him tightly by the arm.

He awoke with a start, and found that Jack was trying to arouse him.
Daylight was streaming through the mouth of the cavern; beyond could be
seen the blue sea shining brightly in the rays of the sun, with a
chasse-maree, or some other small vessel, gliding swiftly across it,
impelled by a smart breeze off shore.

Jack had taken it into his head that the people on board might see them.

"I don't think there's much chance of that," said Bill.  "Even if they
happen to turn their glasses this way, depend on it, if we sit quiet,
they'll not discover us."

The vessel soon disappeared, and they then looked about to examine more
carefully the cavern in which they had taken refuge.

The tide was still at its highest, and the water washed up to the ledge
in front of the cavern.  The ground rose considerably above that point
to where they sat, and on looking round they saw that it continued to
rise behind them for some distance.

Bill advised that they should at once explore it, observing that though,
even at spring-tide, with the wind off shore, the water might not reach
to where they sat; yet should a gale blow from the northward, it might
drive the waves far up the cavern, and expose them to great danger.  "We
cannot tell what may happen," he said, "and it's as well to be prepared
for the worst.  Besides, if the soldiers come to look for us, they may
find the mouth of the cavern, and make their way some distance in, but
if they do not discover us they'll fancy we are not here, and go away
again as wise as they came."

Jack saw the wisdom of this proposal.  They accordingly groped their way
on, aided by the light, which, though dim, pervaded the part of the
cavern they had reached.  Every now and then they stopped, and, on
looking back, could still see the entrance, with the bright sea beyond
it.

At length they came to a rock, which seemed to stop their further
progress; but, feeling about them, found that the cavern made a turn
here to the left.  They now proceeded with the greatest caution, for
fear of coming to some hole down which they might fall.

"If we had a torch we might see what sort of a place we have got to,"
observed Jack.

"But we haven't got a torch, and no chance of getting one; and so we
must find out by making good use of our hands," answered Bill.  "We must
move slowly on, and feel every inch of the way, putting out one hand
before we lift up the other."

They were groping forward on their hands and knees, and were in total
darkness; still, as they looked back, there was a faint glimmer of
light, which appeared round the corner of the rock, and this would
enable them to find their way back again.  Hitherto they had met only
with smooth rock, gently inclining upwards; possibly it might lead them,
if they went on long enough, to the top of the cliff, though they hoped
that there was no opening in that direction.

Here, at all events, they thought that they should be secure, even
should their pursuers enter the cavern.

As they were getting hungry, they agreed to go back and eat their
breakfast in daylight near the spring, which would afford them a draught
of cool water.  They returned as they had come, feeling their way along
the rock.

Just before they reached the turning in the cavern, they discovered a
recess which would hold both of them; and they agreed to make it their
hiding-place should the soldiers by any chance come to look for them.

Without much difficulty they got back to the spot where they had slept,
which was close to the stream.  Here they sat down, and produced the
provisions which they had brought from the tower.  On examining their
stock, they calculated that they had sufficient to last them for a
couple of days.

"When that's gone, what shall we do?" asked Jack.

"We must try to pick up some shell-fish from the rocks," answered Bill.
"The soldiers by that time will have got tired of looking for us, and if
any persons from the top of the cliffs see us they won't know who we
are, and will fancy we are fisher-boys getting bait.  Perhaps before
that time a smuggling lugger may come off here, and we may manage to
hail her before we run short of food; at all events, there's no use
being frightened about what may happen."

Every now and then one or the other went towards the mouth of the cave
to look out.  As long as the tide remained high there was no danger of
their being discovered; but at low water the French soldiers were very
likely to come along the sands, and could scarcely fail to see the mouth
of the cavern.

The tide was now rapidly going down, black rocks appearing one by one
above the surface.

They accordingly determined to retire to the inner part of the cavern,
and to wait there till they calculated that the tide would once more
have come in.

"We must make up our minds to enjoy six hours of daylight, and to endure
six of darkness," observed Bill.

"I sha'n't care much about that; we can but go to sleep and amuse
ourselves the best way we can think of while the tide is in," said Jack.

"If we had some hooks and lines we might fish," said Bill.

"We should only catch rock fish, and they are not fit to eat," replied
Jack.

The boys carried out their plan.  It was an easy matter to get through
the sleeping-time, but they became somewhat weary from having nothing to
do during the period that the tide was in.  They could do little more,
indeed, than sit looking at the sea, and watching the few vessels which
appeared in the offing.  Now and then they got up and walked about to
stretch their legs.  They were afraid of bathing, lest while swimming
about they might be seen from any part of the cliff above.

Whether the soldiers had come to look for them they could not tell; one
thing was certain, they had not been discovered, and there were no signs
of any persons having approached the mouth of the cavern.

They husbanded their food, but it was rapidly diminishing.  At night
they therefore, when the tide had gone out, crept down on the sands, and
managed to cut off some limpets and other shell-fish with their knives
from the rocks.  These would have sustained them for some days had they
been able to cook them, but they had no means of lighting a fire.
Though limpets may help to keep body and soul together for a short time,
they are not wholesome food, especially when raw.  Their bread was all
gone, but as long as they had some figs and cheese they got down the
limpets very well; but both figs and cheese came to an end, and they
both felt that they were getting very weak.

"If we don't take care we shall starve," said Bill.

"We must do something or other.  I don't see anything but trying to get
on board a lugger, as we talked of; but then in searching for her we
should run the chance of being made prisoners again."

"You must come round to my plan, and run off with a boat of some sort,"
said Jack.

"That's just what I cannot do," said Bill.

"It's either that or starving," said Jack.

"We should have to get food first, even if we did run off with a boat,"
observed Bill.  "It would never do to put to sea without something to
eat.  I'll tell you what I'll do.  I'll try and make my way back to
Captain Turgot's.  It cannot be far from this.  I'll ask them to give us
some food.  They are sure to do that, though they might not like hiding
us; and perhaps they might tell us of some boat in which we could get
off without the owner being the worse for the loss.  If you'll stay
here, I'll go this very evening as soon as the tide is out.  I calculate
that I should have time to get there and back before the flood is up;
and I'm not afraid of being refused, at all events."  Jack wanted to go
too; but Bill urged that one was less likely to be discovered than two,
and that it would be better for him to go alone.  Jack at last agreed to
this, and directly the sand appeared below the mouth of the cavern, Bill
set out.



CHAPTER NINE.

VISIT TO CAPTAIN TURGOT'S COTTAGE.

As it was growing dusk, Bill had no fear of being seen as he made his
way from the cavern.  He felt rather weak, but he had a brave heart, and
pushed on.  He had some rough rocks to climb over, and others he managed
to get round, walking through the water where it was not too deep.
Sooner than he expected he reached the bay near which the Turgots'
cottage was situated.  To avoid the other cottages and huts he had to
make a wide circuit.

He cautiously crept up towards the back of his friends' dwelling; then,
keeping close to the wall, he looked in through the window of the room
in which the family generally sat.

Jeannette was alone, spinning as usual, but looking somewhat pensive.

Bill tapped at the window, and Jeannette looked up.

"May I come in?" he asked in French.

Jeannette came to the window.

"Who are you?" she inquired.

"What! don't you know me?" said Bill.

"Ah! one of the young Englishmen!" she exclaimed; and she opened the
window.

Bill jumped in.

"I am so happy to see you!" she cried.  "Where have you come from?  And
your friend Jack, where is he?  Have you both escaped from the soldiers?
We thought you were in prison long ago;" and Jeannette put so many
questions that Bill had great difficulty in answering them.  He,
however, soon contrived to let her know all that had happened, and then
inquired for her father and mother and brother.

"Mother is in bed, quite ill," she said; "she was so frightened by the
soldiers, expecting to be carried off to prison, that she has not got
over it.  My father and Pierre are out fishing.  I expect them home
before midnight, but they said that they should be out later than
usual."

"I should like to stop and see them," said Bill; "but in the meantime,
can you give me something to eat?  I am nearly starved."

"Of course," cried Jeannette; and she quickly placed some food before
Bill, which he as quickly attacked.

"Well, you are hungry!" she observed, "but eat away.  I wish I had known
before how near you were to us, and I would have brought you
provisions."

"Can you bring them to us now?" asked Bill.  "If we do not manage to get
off, we shall soon be hungry again."

"Of course I will," she answered; "but it would not be safe for me to
bring them all the way to the cave.  I know, however, a place much
nearer this where I could hide them, and you can come and fetch them."

"But how am I to know the place?" asked Bill.

"I will describe it to you," answered Jeannette.  "You remarked, as you
came along, a break in the cliff, with a stream running down the bottom.
On the right side of the stream, about ten feet from high-water mark,
there is a small hollow just large enough for one person to creep in.  I
took shelter there once when I was a little girl, having been caught in
a storm as I was rambling along the sands so I remember it well."

Bill thought he could find the place, and would look for it as he went
back.  Jeannette promised to bring a basket every other day, directly
the morning tide went down, so that Bill would know exactly when to go
and fetch the food.  He thanked her very much, and promised to follow
her directions.

He then asked her about a boat, but she could say nothing till her
father and Pierre returned.  They might know of one, but as there was
very small chance of her ever being restored to her owner, while the
boys were not likely to have the means of paying for her, she was
doubtful.

"As to that," said Bill, "we shall have plenty of prize-money.  I hope
to pay for her over and over again; and I will promise most faithfully
to do so."

Jeannette smiled, for she thought that there was very little probability
of the two young ship-boys ever getting prize-money sufficient to pay
for such a boat as they required, to make a voyage across the Channel.

Bill was anxious to get back to poor Jack, who he remembered was
well-nigh starving.  Jeannette would have accompanied him part of the
way, but she had to remain at home to receive Captain Turgot and Pierre.
She had, in the meantime, packed a basket with provisions for Jack and
himself, that they might be independent for a couple of days.  He
therefore jumped up, and, begging her to remember him very kindly to the
others, he bade her farewell, and, with the basket on his arm, slipped
out of the house as cautiously as he had entered.

He had noted every object as he came along, so that he had no difficulty
in making his way back.  He also easily discovered the small cave
described by Jeannette.  It was at a convenient distance from the large
cavern, and, as a path led near it, should Jeannette be perceived, it
might be supposed that she was making her way to the top of the cliff.

Bill did not stop longer than was necessary to examine the place to be
certain of being able to find it again, as he knew that Jack would be
anxiously waiting for him.  He hurried on, therefore, and in a short
time reached the beach below the cavern.  Climbing up, he called out,
"All right, Jack!"  But Jack did not answer.  He called again, but still
there was no reply, and he began to feel very anxious.

Had the soldiers been there and carried off his companion? or had Jack
died of starvation?

Jeannette had thoughtfully put a tinder-box, flint and steel, and a
couple of candles into the basket.  After feeling his way on for some
distance, he stopped and lighted one of the candles.

The faint light gave the cavern a wild, strange appearance, so that he
could scarcely have known where he was.  He looked round on every side,
but could nowhere see Jack; he became more and more alarmed; still he
did not give up all hope of finding him.

Again and again he called out "Jack!"

At length a faint voice came from the interior.  He hurried on.  There
lay Jack on the ground.

"Is that you, Bill?" he asked, in a low voice.  "I was afraid you were
caught.  I fancied I heard voices, and crept away, intending to get into
our hiding-place, when I fell down, and I suppose I must have gone to
sleep, for I remember nothing more till I heard you calling to me.  Have
you brought any food?"

"Yes," said Bill; "sit up and eat as much as you can; it will do you
good, and you will soon be all to rights."

Jack did not require a second invitation, but munched away at the bread
and cheese, and dried fish and figs, with right good will, showing that
he could not have been so very ill after all.  He quickly regained his
strength and spirits, and listened eagerly to what Bill had to tell him.

"Well, it's a comfort to think that we are not likely to be starved," he
observed; "and I will bless Miss Jeannette as long as I live.  I wish we
could do something to show her how much obliged we are.  And now, Bill,
what about the boat?  Is there a chance of our getting one?"

"A very poor chance at present, I am afraid," answered Bill.
"Jeannette, however, will let us know if her father and brother can find
one to suit our purpose, or if a smuggling lugger comes into the
harbour."

"We'll have, after all, to do as I proposed, and take one without asking
the owner's leave," said Jack.  "I tell you it will be perfectly fair.
The French are at war with us, and we have a right to take any of their
property we can find, whether afloat or on shore."

"That may be, but I can't get it out of my head that we shall be robbing
some poor fellow who may have to depend on his boat for supporting
himself and his family," answered Bill.

They argued the point as before, till Bill proposed that they should lie
down and go to sleep, as he felt tired after his long walk.

They allowed two days to pass, when Bill set off as agreed on to obtain
the provisions he hoped Jeannette would have brought.

She had not deceived him; there was an ample supply, and two or three
more candles.

Several more days passed by.  Jeannette regularly brought them
provisions, but she left no note to tell them of any arrangements which
her father had made.  They were becoming very weary of their life, for
they had nothing whatever to do--no books to read, and not even a stick
to whittle.

The weather had hitherto been fine, the cavern was warm and comfortable,
and the dry sand afforded them soft beds.  They might certainly have
been very much worse off.

Bill always went to fetch the food from the cave where Jeannette left
it.  He had hitherto not met her, which he was anxious to do, to learn
what chance there was of obtaining a boat.  She, however, was always
before him, the fact being that the path from her house to the cave was
practicable before that from the large cavern was open.

"I don't quite like the look of the weather," observed Bill one day to
Jack, just before the time Jeannette was due at the little cave, and all
their provisions were expended.  "If it comes on very bad she may be
stopped, and we shall be pressed.  I'll slip down the moment the water
is shallow enough, and try to get along the shore; and if she has not
reached the cave, I'll go on and meet her."

Bill at once put his resolution into practice.  He did not mind wetting
his feet; but he had here and there a hard job to save himself from
being carried off by the sea, which rolled up the beach to the very foot
of the cliff.  Twice he had to cling to a rock, and frequently to wade
for some distance, till he began to regret that he had ventured so soon;
but having made up his mind to do a thing, he was not to be defeated by
the fear of danger; so waiting till the wave had receded, he rushed on
to another rock.  The sky had become overcast.  The leaden seas,
foam-crested, came rolling in with increasing force, and had not the
tide been on the ebb his position would have been perilous in the
extreme.

He knew, however, that every minute would make his progress less
difficult; so with a brave heart he pushed on.  At last he reached the
little cave by the side of the gorge.  It was empty!  He knew,
therefore, that Jeannette had not been there.

According to his previous determination, he went on to meet her, hoping
that before this she might have set out.

The rain now began to fall, and the wind blew with fitful gusts.  He did
not care for either himself, but he was sorry that Jeannette should be
exposed to the storm.  He felt nearly sure that she would come, in spite
of it.  If not, he made up his mind to wait till dark, and then to go on
to her cottage.  There was no great risk in doing so, as the soldiers
would long before this have given up their search for him and Jack.

He had gone some distance, and the fishing village would soon be in
sight, when he saw a figure coming towards him, wrapped in a cloak.
Hoping that it was Jeannette, he hurried forward to meet her.  He was
not mistaken.

Bill told her that he had come on that she might be saved from a longer
exposure to the rain than was necessary.

"Thank you," she answered.  "I was delayed, or I should have set off
earlier, but a party of soldiers came to the village pretending that
they wanted to buy fish.  I, however, suspected that they came to look
for you, and I waited till they had gone away again.  We sold them all
the fish they asked for, and put on an unconcerned look, as if
suspecting nothing, I saw them, however, prying about, and I recognised
one of them as the sergeant who came in command of the party which
carried you off.  I am not at all certain, either, that they will not
return, and I should not have ventured out, had I not known that you
must be greatly in want of food, and that, perhaps, should the storm
which is now beginning increase, many days might pass before I could
supply you."

The information given by Jeannette made Bill very glad that he had come
on to meet her.  He, of course, thanked her warmly, and then asked what
chance there was of obtaining a boat.

"My father wishes you well, but is afraid to interfere in the matter,"
she answered.  "He does not, perhaps, enter into your feelings about
getting back to England, because he thinks France the best country of
the two, and sees no reason why you should not become Frenchmen.  As the
detachment of soldiers quartered in the neighbourhood will soon,
probably, be removed, you may then come back without fear, and resume
the clothes you before wore, and live with us, and help my father and
brother; then who knows what may happen?  You will not have to fight
your own countrymen, and the war may some day come to an end, or perhaps
the French may conquer the English, and then we shall all be very good
friends again."

"Never!  Jeannette; that will never happen," exclaimed Bill.  "You are
very kind to us, and we are very fond of you, and would do anything to
serve you, and show our gratitude, but don't say that again."

Jeannette laughed.  "Dear me, how fiery you are!" she exclaimed.
"However, it's foolish to stop talking here, and I ought to hurry home,
in case the soldiers should pay us another visit and suspect something.
Do not be angry, my dear Bill.  I did not wish to offend you; only, you
know, we each think our own country the best."

Bill assured Jeannette that he was not angry, and again thanked her very
much, though he could not help saying that he was sorry her father would
not obtain the boat for them.

"Well, well, you must have patience," she answered.  "Now go back to
your cave as fast as you can, or you will be wet to the skin."

"I am that already," answered Bill, laughing; "but it's a trifle to
which I am well accustomed."

Once more they shook hands, and exchanging baskets.  Jeannette, drawing
her cloak around her, hurried back to the village, while Bill made the
best of his way to the cavern.

He was now able, in spite of the wind, to get along where he had before
found it difficult to pass.  In one or two places only did the waves
rolling up wash round his feet, but the water was not of sufficient
depth to carry him off, and he gained the mouth of the cavern in safety.
Jack was eagerly looking out for him, and both of them being very sharp
set, they lost no time in discussing some of the contents of the basket.

As they looked out they saw that the wind had greatly increased.  A
heavy north-westerly gale was blowing.  It rushed into the cavern filled
with spray from off the now distant foam-tipped waves.  What it would do
when the tide was again high was a matter of serious consideration.

"We shall have to go as far back as we can," observed Bill, "and the
sooner we pick out a safe berth the better.  I should like, too, to get
my wet clothes off, for the wind makes me feel very cold."

Jack was of the same opinion, and he taking up the basket, they groped
their way to the inner cave round the rock, where it turned, as before
described, to the left.  Here they were completely sheltered from the
wind, and had it not been for the loud roar of the waves beating on the
shore, and the howling of the gale in the outer cavern, they would not
have been aware that a storm was raging outside.

They had, it should have been said, collected a quantity of drift wood,
which Jack had thoughtfully employed himself in carrying to the spot
where they were now seated.  As they could not possibly run any risk of
being detected, they agreed to light a fire, which they had hitherto
avoided doing.

They soon had a cheerful one blazing up, and it made them feel much more
comfortable.  Bill was able to dry his wet clothes, and by its light
they could now take a better survey of their abode than they had
hitherto done.

The cavern was here not more than eight or ten feet in height, but it
was nearly thirty broad, and penetrated, so it seemed to them, far away
into the interior of the cliff.

"I vote we have a look and see where the cave leads to," said Bill,
taking up a long piece of fir-wood which burnt like a torch.

Jack provided himself with another of a similar character, and, by
waving them about, they found that they could keep them alight.  They
also took one of their candles and their match-box in case their torches
should go out.

Having raked their fire together, so that it might serve as a beacon to
assist them in their return, they set out.

The ground rose as they had before supposed when they explored it in the
dark, but the roof continued of the same height above it.

Suddenly Jack started.

"What is that?" he exclaimed, seizing his companion's arm.  "There's a
man! or is it a ghost?  Oh Bill!"



CHAPTER TEN.

DISCOVERY OF THE SMUGGLERS' TREASURE.

Bill waved his torch on one side and peered forward.  "It looks like a
man, but it doesn't move.  It's only a figure, Jack," he answered.  "I'm
not afraid of it.  Come on! we'll soon see what it is."

Jack was ashamed of lagging behind, and accompanied him.

The object which had frightened Jack was soon discovered to be merely a
stalactite--a mass of hardened water.  Similar formations now appeared
on both sides of the cavern, some hanging from the roof, others in the
form of pillars and arches; indeed, the whole cavern looked like the
interior of a Gothic building in ruins.

Other figures still more strange were seen, as if starting out from
recesses or doorways on both sides.

"Well! this is a strange place.  I never saw or heard of anything like
it," exclaimed Jack, when he found how harmless all the ghosts really
were.

In many places the roof and sides shone and glittered as if covered with
precious stones.  Even Bill began to fancy that they had got into some
enchanted cavern.  The ground was covered in most places with the same
substance, and so rough that they could make but slow progress.

They were about to turn back for fear of their torches going out when
they reached a low archway.  Curiosity prompted them to enter, which
they could do by stooping down.  After going a short distance they found
themselves in a still larger cavern, almost circular, like a vast hall,
the roof and sides ornamented by nature in the same curious fashion,
though still more profusely.

"It won't do to stop here," said Bill, "but we'll come back again and
have another look at it with fresh torches.  Hallo! what's that?"

Jack started as he had before done, as if he were not altogether
comfortable in his mind.  He had never heard anything about enchanted
caverns, but a strange dread had seized him.  He had an idea that the
place must be the abode of ghosts or spirits of some sort, and that Bill
had seen one.

Bill hurrying forward, the light of his torch fell on a pile composed of
bales and chests, and casks, and various other articles.

The place had evidently been used as a store-room by persons who must
have considered that it was not likely to be discovered.

As their torches were by this time nearly burnt out, they could not
venture to stop and examine the goods, but had to hurry back as fast as
they could.  They had managed to get through the narrow passage, and had
made some progress in their return, when both of them were obliged to
let their torches drop, as they could no longer hold them without
burning their hands.  They might have lighted their candles, had they
been in any difficulty, but their fire enabled them to find their way
along, though they stumbled frequently over the inequalities of the
ground, and once or twice Jack clutched Bill's arm, exclaiming, "Sure!
there's some one!  I saw him move!  Can any of the soldiers have come to
look for us?"

"Not with such a storm as there is now raging outside," answered Bill.
"It was only one of the marble figures."

Presently Jack again cried out, "There!  I saw another moving.  I'm sure
of it this time.  It's a ghost if it isn't a man."

"Well! if it is a ghost it won't hurt us," answered Bill; "but the only
ghosts hereabouts are those curious figures, which can't move from their
places.  For my part, I don't believe there are such things as ghosts at
all going about to frighten people.  The only one I ever heard tell of
was `The Cock Lane Ghost', and that was found out to be a sham long
ago."

Jack regained his courage as they approached the fire, and both being
pretty well tired, they were glad to sit down and talk about the
wonderful store of goods they had discovered.  Jack was afraid that the
owners might come back to look for their property and discover them, but
Bill was of opinion that they had been placed there by a party of
smugglers, who had gone away and been lost without telling any one where
they had stowed their goods.

From the appearance of the bales and chests he thought that they had
been there for some time.  Another visit would enable them to ascertain
this, and they resolved to make it without delay.

They were becoming very sleepy, for they had been many hours on foot and
the night was far advanced.  Before lying down, however, Bill said he
wished to see how the storm was getting on.

It was making a dreadful uproar in the cavern, and he wanted to
ascertain what chance there was of the waves washing in.  There was not
much risk, to be sure, of their reaching as far as they then were, but
it was as well to be on the safe side, and if there was a likelihood of
it they would move farther up and carry their provisions and store of
fuel with them, the only property they possessed.

They set out together, Jack keeping a little behind Bill for though he
was as brave as any lad need be in the daylight, or out at sea, he did
not somehow, he confessed, feel like himself in that dark cavern, filled
with the roaring, howling, shrieking noises caused by the gale.

They got on very well till they rounded the rock, when they met a blast,
driving a sheet of fine spray in their faces, which well-nigh blinded
them, and forced them back.  They notwithstanding made their way for
some distance, till Bill began to think that it would be wise to go no
farther.

Every now and then a bright glare filled the cavern, caused by the
flashes of lightning darting from the clouds; while, as each sea rolled
in, the whole mouth was filled as it were by a sheet of foaming water,
part of which, striking the roof, fell back into the ocean, while a
portion rushed up the floor, almost to where they were standing.

"It's bad enough now," shouted Jack, for they could only make each other
hear by speaking at the top of their voices.  "What will it be when it's
high tide?"

"Perhaps it won't be much worse than it is now," answered Bill.  "We
shall be safe enough at our hiding-place, and if it gets up much higher
it will give us notice of its coming, and allow us to retreat in good
time."

They accordingly got back to their fire, the embers of which enabled
them to dry their clothes.  They then lay down, and, in spite of the
storm and the hubbub it was creating, were soon fast asleep.

Had it not been for feeling very hungry, they might have slept on till
past noon of the next day.  Awaking, they found their fire completely
gone out.  What o'clock it was they could not tell.  They were in total
darkness, while the tempest roared away as loudly as ever.

They, however, lighted a candle, and ate some breakfast.  To wash it
down they had to get water from the spring, which was so much nearer the
entrance of the cavern.  They accordingly put out their candle, and
groped their way round the rock.  On seeing light streaming through the
entrance, they knew that at all events it was no longer night.

The sea was rising over the ledge at the mouth, tossing and tumbling
with foam-topped billows, and rolling up along the floor of the cavern
in a seething mass of froth.

They saw how high it had come, and had no reason to fear that it would
rise farther.

They now made their way to the spring, and drank heartily.

"We ought to be thankful that we are in so snug a place," observed Bill;
"but I tell you, we must take care not to eat up all our food in a
hurry, or we may find it a hard matter to get more.  The wind appears to
have driven the sea over on this shore, and I doubt whether we shall be
able to make our way along the beach even at low water."

Jack did not at all like the idea of starving, but he saw that it would
be wise to follow Bill's advice.

They had food enough to last them for three days, as Jeannette had put
up a double allowance; but the gale might blow much longer than that,
and then what should they do?

"It's no use troubling ourselves too much about the matter till the time
comes," observed Bill; "only we must be careful not to eat more than is
necessary to keep body and soul together."

As they had found a fire very useful and pleasant, they went down as
close as they could venture to the water, and employed themselves in
collecting all the driftwood and chips they could find.  They agreed
that they would do the same every day, so as to have a good stock of
fuel.  They wanted also to secure some pieces which might serve as
torches, so that they could examine the smugglers' store as they called
it, which they had discovered.

They carried their wood and placed it on the soft warm sand, where it
would dry more rapidly, for in its present state it would not serve to
kindle a fire.  They had, however, some dry pieces which would answer
that purpose, and they judged rightly that they might place the damp
wood on the top of their fire, when it would burn in time.

Most of the day was employed in this manner.  Even after the tide went
out they found a number of pieces washed up along the sides of the
cavern.  The seas, however, rolled so far up the beach that they were
afraid of descending, or they might have obtained much more.

When it grew dark they returned to their camp, lighted the fire, and
made themselves comfortable.

It was difficult to keep to their resolution of eating only a very
little food, and Bill had to stop Jack before he thought he had had half
enough.

"I don't want to stint you," he said, "but recollect you will be crying
out when our stock comes to an end, and wishing you had not eaten it."

As they had had so long a sleep, neither of them was inclined to turn
in; and Bill proposed that they should examine the smugglers' store.

They had several pieces of wood which they thought would burn as the
first had done, and each taking three, with a candle to be used in case
of emergency, they set out.

They found their way easily enough; but Jack, as before, did not feel
quite comfortable as he saw the strange figures, which seemed to be
flitting about the sides of the cavern; sometimes, too, he fancied that
he detected faces grinning down upon him from the roof, and more than
once he declared positively that he had caught sight of a figure robed
in white stealing along in front of them.

Bill each time answered with a laugh.

"Never mind.  We shall catch it up if it's a ghost, and we'll make it
carry a torch and go ahead to light us."

As they moved on more rapidly than before, they were able to reach the
inner cavern before either of their torches was much more than half
burned through.  They thought it wiser to keep both alight at a time, in
case one should accidentally go out, and they should be unable to light
it again with a match.

With feelings of intense curiosity they approached the smugglers' store.
Both agreed, as they examined it, that the goods must have been there
for some time; but the place being very dry (probably it was chosen on
that account), they did not appear to be much damaged.  The goods, as
far as they could judge, were English.

There were many bales of linen and cloth.  One of the cases which they
forced open contained cutlery, and another was full of pistols; and from
the weight of several which they did not attempt to open, they judged
that they also contained firearms.

There were two small chests placed on the top of the others.  They were
strongly secured; but by means of a sharp stone, which served as a
chisel, and another as a hammer, they managed to break one of them open.
What was their surprise to find the case full of gold pieces!  They had
little doubt that the other also contained money.  They, neither of
them, had ever seen so much gold before.

"What shall we do with it?" cried Jack.  "There's enough here to let
mother live like a lady till the end of her days, without going to sell
fish at the market."

"It is not ours, it belongs to somebody," said Bill.

"That somebody will never come to claim it," answered Jack.  "Depend on
it, he's gone to the bottom, or ended his days somehow long ago, or he
would have come back before this.  These goods have been here for
months, or years maybe, by the look of the packages; and depend on it
the owners would not have let them stay where they are, if they could
have come back to fetch them away."

"But gold pieces won't help us to buy food while we are shut up in the
cavern.  A few Dutch cheeses, with a cask of biscuits, would have been
of more value," observed Bill.

"You are right," said Jack.  "Still, I vote that we fill our pockets, so
that if we have to hurry away, and have no time to came back here, we
may carry some of the gold with us."

Bill could not make up his mind to do this.  The gold was not theirs, of
that he felt sure, and Jack could not persuade him to overcome the
principle he had always stuck to, of not taking, under any
circumstances, what was not lawfully his own.  If the owners were dead,
it belonged to their heirs.

Jack did not see this so clearly.  The money had been lost, and they had
found it, and having found it, they had a right to it.

They must not, however, lose time by arguing the point.  Jack put a
handful or two of the money into his pocket.

Bill kept his fingers out of the box; he did not want the money, and he
had no right to it.

There were several other articles they had not examined, among which
were some small casks.  Jack, finding that his torch was almost burning
his fingers, was obliged to let it drop.  Before he lighted another,
however, Bill's torch affording sufficient light for the purpose, he
managed to knock in the head of one of the small casks, which he found
filled with little black grains.  He tasted them.

"Keep away, Bill--keep away!" he shouted, in an agitated tone, "This is
gunpowder!"

Had Jack held his torch a few seconds longer in his hand, he and Bill
would have been blown to atoms--the very cavern itself would have been
shattered, to the great astonishment of the neighbouring population, who
would, however, never have discovered the cause of the explosion,
although Jeannette Turgot might have guessed at it.

"It's a mercy we didn't blow ourselves up," said Jack.  "I was just
going to take my torch to look at these casks."

He hunted about for all of the same description, and rolled them into a
place by themselves.

"We must take care what we are about if we come here again with
torches," he said.

Bill agreed with him.

After all, of what use to them was the treasure they had discovered.
The cloth and linen were much more serviceable, as they could make
bedding of them.

"I don't see why we should not try to make jackets and trousers for
ourselves," observed Bill.  "This cloth will be fine stuff for the
purpose, and as the cold weather is coming on we shall be glad of some
warm clothing."

"But how are we going to make them?" asked Jack.

"The linen will serve us for thread, and I must see about making some
needles of wood if we can't get anything better," answered Bill.
"However, we'll think about that by-and-by; it's time to return to our
camp, we may be left in the dark."

They accordingly loaded themselves with as much of the linen and cloth
as they could carry, cutting off pieces with their knives.  They could
return, they agreed, for more if this was not enough.

Bill was not quite consistent in taking the cloth when he would not
touch the money, but it did not occur to him for a moment that he was
wrong in appropriating it, or he would have refused to do so.  Had he
argued the point, he would have found it very difficult to settle.  One
thing was certain, that the owners were never likely to make any
complaint on the subject.

They got back to their fire without much difficulty, and having raked it
together, and put on fresh wood, they made their beds with the cloth
they had brought, said their prayers in a thankful spirit, and slept far
more comfortably than they had done since they had taken possession of
the cavern.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE WRECK.

By the roaring sound they heard when they awoke, the lads knew that the
storm was still raging.

They ate sparingly of their store of food for breakfast; and then
calculating that it must be once more daylight, they made their way
towards the mouth of the cavern.  They were not mistaken as to its being
day, but how long the sun had risen they could not tell, as the sky was
still thickly overcast with clouds.

The sea was washing, as before, heavily into the cavern, throwing up all
sorts of articles, among which were a number of oranges, melons, and
other fruits of a southern clime.

The melons were mostly broken, but they got hold of two unbroken, and
very welcome they were.  The oranges were mostly green, though a few had
turned sufficiently red to be eaten.

"I would rather have had more substantial food," observed Jack; "but I
am glad enough to get these."

"What's that?" asked Bill, pointing to the opposite side of the cavern,
where a creature was seen struggling in a hollow half filled with water.

Jack dashed across at the risk of being carried off by the receding sea;
and, grasping a large fish, held it up as he rushed away to escape from
the following wave, which came rolling in with a loud roar.

"Here's a prize worth having," he shouted.  "Hurrah! we may spend
another week here without fear of starving."

He carried his prize well out of the reach of the water, and a knock on
the head put an end to its struggles.

The lads piled up their various waifs, contemplating them with infinite
satisfaction; but it was evident that what was their gain was somebody
else's loss.

"Some unfortunate ship has gone on shore, or else has thrown her cargo
overboard," observed Bill.

He went first to one side of the cavern, and then to the other, so as to
obtain as wide a prospect as possible.

"See! there's a vessel trying to beat off shore," he exclaimed; and just
then a brig with her foretopmast gone came into view, the sail which she
was still able to carry heeling her over till her yard-arms seemed
almost to touch the foaming summits of the seas.

"She'll not do it, I fear," said Jack, after they had been watching her
for some time.  "It's a wonder she doesn't go right over.  If the wind
doesn't fall, nothing can save her; and even then, unless she brings up
and her anchors hold, she's sure to be cast on shore."

They watched the vessel for some time.  Though carrying every stitch of
canvas she could set, she appeared to be making little headway, and to
be drifting bodily to leeward.

The lads uttered a cry of regret, for down came her mainmast, and
immediately her head turned towards the shore.

In a few minutes she struck, though no rock was visible, and the sea
swept over her deck, carrying her remaining mast, boats, caboose, and
round-house overboard, with every person who could be seen.  In an
instant, several human forms were discernible struggling in the seething
waters alongside, but they quickly disappeared.

"They are all gone," cried Jack; "not one that I can see has escaped."

"Perhaps some were below," observed Bill.  "If they were, it won't much
matter, for in a few minutes she will go to pieces."

He was mistaken as to the latter point, for another sea rolling in,
lifted the vessel, and driving over the ledge on which she had first
struck, carried her between some dark rocks, till she stuck fast on the
sandy shore.  Had the people been able to cling to her till now, some
might possibly have been saved, but they had apparently all been on deck
when the vessel struck, and been swept away by the first sea which
rolled over her.  The seas still continued to sweep along her deck, but
their force was partly broken by the rocks, and being evidently a stout
vessel, she hung together.

It was at the time nearly high-water, and the lads longed for the tide
to go down, that they might examine her nearer.

"Even if anybody is alive on board, we cannot help them," observed Jack;
"so I vote that we take our fish to the camp, and have some dinner.  I
am very sharp set, seeing that we had no breakfast to speak of."

Bill, who had no objection to offer, agreed to this; so carrying up
their newly-obtained provisions, they soon had a fire lighted, and some
of the fish broiling away before it.

The fate of the unfortunate vessel formed the subject of their
conversation.

"I have an idea," cried Bill.  "It's an ill wind that brings no one good
luck.  If we can manage to get on board that craft which has come on
shore, we might build a boat out of her planking, or at all events a
raft; and should the wind come from the southward, we might manage to
get across the Channel, or be picked up by some vessel or other.  We are
pretty sure to find provisions on board.  Perhaps one of her boats may
have escaped being knocked to pieces, and we could repair her.  At all
events, it will be our own fault if that wreck doesn't give us the
opportunity of escaping."

Jack listened to all Bill was saying.

"I cannot agree with you as to the chance of getting off," he observed.
"As soon as the wreck is seen, the Frenchmen are sure to be down on the
shore, and we shall be caught and carried back to prison instead of
getting away.  The boats are pretty certain to have been knocked into
shreds before this, and as to building a boat, that is what neither you
nor I can do, even if we had the tools, and where are they to come
from?"

"Perhaps we shall find them on board," said Bill.  "The vessel has held
together till now, and I don't see why she should not hold together till
the storm is over.  `Where there's a will there's a way,' and I don't
see that we have so bad a chance of getting off."

"Well, I'll help you.  You can show me what we had best do," said Jack.
"I am not going to draw back on account of the risk.  All must depend on
the weather.  If the wind comes off shore, and the sea goes down, I
should say that our best chance would be to build a raft.  We can do
that, if we can only find an axe and a saw, and we might get launched
before the Frenchmen find out the wreck.  The first thing we have to do
is to get on board, and when we are there, we must keep a bright
look-out to see that none of the natives are coming along the shore to
trap us."

The lads, having come to this resolution, hurried back to the entrance
of the cave.

They forgot all about the smugglers' stores, and their intention of
making clothes for themselves; indeed, they only thought of getting on
board the vessel.  They watched eagerly for the tide to go down.  The
day passed by and the night came on, but the clouds clearing away, a
bright moon shed her light over the scene.  The wind had also sensibly
decreased, and the waves rolled in with far less fury than before.

The water, however, seemed to them a long time moving off; still it was
evidently going down.  Rock after rock appeared, and looking over the
ledge they could see the sand below them.

Knowing full well that the water would not again reach the beach it had
once left till the return of the tide, they leaped down without
hesitation, and began to make their way in the direction of the vessel.
They had again to wait, however, for, as they pushed eagerly forward, a
sheet of foam from a wave which came rolling up nearly took them off
their legs.

They retreated a short distance, and in a few minutes were able to pass
the spot over the uncovered sand.  On and on they pressed, now
advancing, now having to retreat, till they stood abreast of the vessel.
The water still surrounded her, and was too deep to wade through.

They looked round on every side, but not a trace of a boat could be
discovered, though fragments of spars and the bulwarks of the vessel
strewed the beach.  Among the spars they found two whole ones, which
they secured.

"These will help us to get on board if we find no ropes hanging over the
side," observed Bill; "or they will enable us to withstand the sea
should it catch us before we can climb up."  They now advanced more
boldly.

The vessel lay over on her bilge, with her deck partly turned towards
the shore, the sea, after she struck, having driven her round.

They waded up to her, for their impatience did not permit them to wait
till the water had entirely receded.  The risk they ran of being carried
off was considerable, but, dashing forward, they planted the spars
against the side.

Bill swarmed up first, Jack followed, and the deck was gained.

Scarcely were Jack's feet out of the water, when a huge sea came rolling
up, which would inevitably have carried him off.

They knew that they had no time to lose, for the wreck once seen from
the shore, crowds of people were certain to visit it to carry off the
cargo.

The after-part of the vessel was stove in, and nothing remained in the
cabin; but the centre part, though nearly full of water, was unbroken.
The water, however, was rushing out like a mill-stream, both at the
stern and through some huge holes in the bows.  Nothing whatever
remained on deck.

The lads plunged down below, and gained the spar-deck, which was already
out of the water.  Here the first object their eyes alighted on was a
chest.

It was the carpenter's, and contained axes, and saws, and nails, and
tools of all sorts.

There were a good many light spars and planks stowed on one side.

"Here we have materials for a raft at hand!" cried Bill.  "We must build
one; for I agree with you, Jack, that there's no use in attempting a
boat.  It would take too much time, even if we could succeed in making
her watertight."

"I said so," replied Jack.  "I wish we had some grub, though; perhaps
there's some for'ard.  I'll go and find it if I can."

Jack made his way into the forepeak, while Bill was cutting free the
lashings, and dragging out the spars.  Jack returned in a short time
with some cold meat, and biscuit, and cheese.

"See! we can dine like lords," he exclaimed; "and we shall be better
able to work after it."

They sat down on the chest, and ate the provisions with good appetites.

Bill cast a thought on the fate of the poor fellows to whom the food had
belonged; their bodies now washing about in the breakers outside.

Every now and then they alternately jumped up, and looked east and west,
and to the top of the cliff, to ascertain if any one was coming.  The
vessel had been driven on shore out of sight of both the villages, or
they would not have been left long alone.  It was to be hoped that no
one would come along the cliff and look down upon the wreck.

Their meal over, they set to work to plan their raft.

They were obliged to labour on deck, as they could not hoist it up
through the hold, or they would have preferred keeping out of sight.  It
would be a hard job to launch it, but that they hoped to do by fastening
tackles at either side leading to the ring bolts on deck.

As there were no bulwarks to stop them, they laid the foundation, or, as
they called it, the keel, projecting slightly over the side.  They would
thus have only to shove it forward and tip it up to launch it.

Their plan was to form an oblong square, then to put on bows at one end;
and two pieces crossing each other with a short upright between them, on
which to support the steering oar.  The interior of the framework they
strengthened by two diagonal braces.  They lashed and nailed a number of
crosspieces close together, and on the top of the whole they nailed down
all the planks they could find, which were sufficient to form a good
flooring to their raft.

They discovered also a number of small brandy casks, which they
immediately emptied of their contents, letting the spirits flow without
compunction into the water, and then again tightly bunged them down.

They fastened ropes around the casks, with which, when the raft was
launched, they could secure them to either side, to give it greater
buoyancy.  They also brought up a couple of sea-chests, which they
intended to lash down to the centre, so as to afford them some
protection from the sea, and at the same time to hold their provisions.

Bill was the chief suggester of all these arrangements, though Jack ably
carried them out.

They worked like heroes, with all the energy they could command, for
they felt that everything depended on their exertions.

The night being bright, they were able to get on as well then as in the
daytime.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A RAFT BUILT--MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF JACK PEEK.

Not till their raft was complete did the two boys think of again eating.
They had been working, it must be remembered, for several hours since
the meal they took soon after they got on board.  Having finished the
beef and cheese, they lighted a couple of lanterns which they found hung
up in the forepeak, and hunted about for more food.

They discovered some casks of salt beef, and another of biscuits, a drum
of cheese, and several boxes of dried fruit.  They had thus no lack of
provisions, but they did not forget the necessity of supplying
themselves with a store of water.

Hunting about, they found two small vessels, which they filled from one
of the water-casks.

There were several oars below, three of which they took and placed in
readiness on deck--one to steer with, and the other two for rowing.

They had, lastly, to rig their raft.  A fore-royal already bent was
found in the sail-room, and a spar served as a mast.  How to step it,
and to secure it properly, was the difficulty, until Bill suggested
getting a third chest and boring a hole through the lid, and then, by
making another hole through the bottom, the mast would be well stepped,
and it was easy to set it up by means of a rope led forward and two
shrouds aft.

Knowing exactly what they wanted to do, they did it very rapidly, and
were perfectly satisfied with their performance.

The tide must come up again, however, before they could launch their
raft.  It would not be safe to do that unless the wind was off shore and
the water smooth.  Of this they were thoroughly convinced.  Some hours
must also elapse before the hitherto tumultuous sea would go down; what
should they do in the meantime?

Bill felt very unwilling to go away without wishing their friends the
Turgots good-bye.  He wanted also to tell Jeannette of the smugglers'
store.  The Turgots, at all events, would have as good a right to it as
any one else, should the proper owners not be in existence.

Jack did not want him to go.

"You may be caught," he observed, "or some one may come down and
discover the vessel, and if I am alone, even should the tide be high, I
could not put off."

"But there is no chance of the tide coming up for the next three hours,
and I can go to the village and be back again long before that,"
answered Bill.

At last Jack gave in.

"Well, be quick about it," he said; "we ought to be away at daylight, if
the wind and the sea will let us; and if we don't, I'm afraid there will
be very little chance of our getting off at all."

Bill promised without fail to return.  There was no risk, he was sure,
of being discovered, and it would be very ungrateful to the Turgots to
go away without trying to see them again.  He wished that Jack could
have gone also, but he agreed that it was better for him to remain to do
a few more things to the raft.  Before he started they arranged the
tackles for launching it; and they believed that, when once in the
water, it would not take them more than ten minutes or a quarter of an
hour to haul the empty casks under the bottom and to step and set up the
mast.  They might then, should the wind be favourable, stand boldly out
to sea.

This being settled, Bill lowered himself down on the sand by a rope, and
ran off as fast as he could go.

Jack quickly finished the work he had undertaken; then putting his hand
into his pocket, he felt the gold pieces.

"It's a pity we shouldn't have more of these," he said to himself.  "I
don't agree with Bill in that matter.  If he does not care about them
for himself, I do for him, and he shall have half."

As he said this he emptied his pockets into one of the chests.

"I shall want a lantern by-the-bye," he said; and springing below, he
secured one with a fresh candle in it.

Having done this, he forthwith lowered himself, as Bill had done, down
on the sand, and quickly made his way to the cavern.

He had left the basket with the tinder-box, and the remnant of their
provisions at their camp, which he soon reached.

His desire to obtain the gold overcame the fears he had before
entertained of ghosts and spirits.

Having lighted his lantern he took up the basket, which had a cloth in
it, and pushed forward.  The pale light from his lantern, so different
from that of a couple of blazing torches, made the objects around look
strange and weird.  He began not at all to like the appearance of
things, and fancied at last that he must have got into a different part,
of the cavern; still he thought, "I must have the gold.  It would be so
foolish to go away without it.  It belongs to us as much as to anybody
else, seeing that the owners are dead.  Their ghosts won't come to look
for it, I hope.  I wish I hadn't thought of that.  I must be going
right.  It would have been much pleasanter if Bill had been with me.
Why didn't I try to persuade him to stop?"

Such were the thoughts which passed through Jack's mind; but he was a
bold fellow, and did not like giving up what he had once determined on.

He saw no harm in what he was doing; on the contrary, he was serving his
friend Bill as well as himself, or rather his mother, for he wanted the
gold for her.  In the meantime, Bill was hurrying on towards the
Turgots' cottage.  He should astonish them, he knew, by waking them up
in the middle of the night, or rather so early in the morning; but they
would appreciate his desire to wish them good-bye, and would be very
much obliged to him for telling them of the treasure in the cavern.

It would make their fortunes, and Jeannette would be the richest heiress
in the neighbourhood; for, of course, he would bargain that she should
have a good share.  There might be some difficulty in getting the goods
away without being discovered, which would be a pity, as they were of as
much value as the boxes of gold.  However, he was doing what was right
in giving them the opportunity of possessing themselves of the treasure,
though he considered that he could not take it himself.

He got round to the back door, under the room where Pierre slept.  He
knew that he would not be out fishing then, as the weather would have
prevented him.

He knocked at once.  No answer came.  The third time, and he heard some
one moving, and presently Pierre sang out, "Who's there?"

"It's one you know; let me in," answered Bill, in a low voice, for he
was afraid of any one who might by chance be in the neighbourhood
hearing him.

Pierre came downstairs and opened the door.  Bill explained all that had
happened, except about the treasure.

"You going away!" cried Pierre.  "It would be madness!  You will only
float about till another storm arises and you will be lost."

"You don't know what we can do," answered Bill.  "We shall probably be
picked up by one of our ships before we reach England; and, if not, we
shall get on very well, provided the wind holds from the southward, and
after the long course of northerly gales there's every chance of its
doing that."

"I must consult my father before I let you go," said Pierre.

"You would not keep us prisoners against our will," said Bill, laughing,
as if Pierre could only be in joke.  "Come, call your mother and father
and Jeannette, and let me wish them good-bye.  I haven't many minutes to
stop, and I've got something to tell them, which I've a notion will be
satisfactory."

Pierre went to his father and mother's and Jeannette's rooms, and soon
roused them up.  They appeared somewhat in _deshabille_, and looked very
astonished at being called out of their beds by the young Englishman.

"What is it all about?" asked Captain Turgot.

"We are going away," replied Bill, "but we could not go without again
thanking you for all your kindness; and to show you that we are not
ungrateful, I have to tell you how you can become a rich man in a few
hours, without much trouble."

On this Bill described how they had found the smuggler's treasure.

Captain Turgot and the dame held up their hands, uttering various
exclamations which showed their surprise, mixed with no little doubt as
to whether Bill had not been dreaming.

He assured them that he was stating a fact, and offered, if Captain
Turgot and Pierre would accompany him, to show them the place, as he
thought that there would be time before daylight, when he and Jack had
determined to set sail.

"I am sure he's speaking the truth," cried Jeannette; "and it's very
kind and generous of you, Bill, to tell us of the treasure, when you
might have carried it off yourself.  I know of the cave, for I saw it
once, when I was very nearly caught by the tide and drowned, though I
don't think many people about here are acquainted with it; and very few,
if any, have gone into the interior."

Captain Turgot and Pierre confessed that they had never seen it, though
they had gone up and down the coast so often; but then, on account of
the rocks, they had always kept a good distance out.

At last Bill and Jeannette persuaded them that there really was such a
cave; but on considering the hour, they came to the conclusion that the
tide would come in before they could make their escape from it, and they
would prefer going when the tide had again made out.  Bill, they
thought, would only just have time to get on board the vessel, if he was
determined to go.

"But if you have so much gold, you could purchase a good boat," said
Captain Turgot; "and that would be much better than making your voyage
on a raft."

Bill acknowledged that such might be the case, but he was unwilling to
risk any further delay.  He trusted to his friends' honour to let him go
as he had determined.  He had come of his own accord to bid them
farewell, and they would not really think of detaining him against his
will.

The fact, however, was that Captain Turgot doubted very much the truth
of Bill's story.  Had any band of smugglers possessed a hiding-place on
that part of the coast, he thought that he should have known it, and he
fancied that the young Englishman must in some way or other have been
deceived.

"Where is the gold you speak of?" he asked.  "You surely must have
secured some for yourself."

Bill replied that Jack had, but that he had not wished to touch it.

"Then you give it to us, my young friend," said Captain Turgot; "where
is the difference?"

"No!  I only tell you of it, that you may act as you think right.  If
you find out the owners, I hope you will restore it to them; but, at all
events, it's Frenchmen's money, and a Frenchman has more right to it
than I have."

Captain Turgot did not quite understand Bill's principles, though
perhaps Jeannette and Pierre did.

"Well, well, my young friend, if go you must, I will not detain you.
You and your companion will run a great risk of losing your lives, and I
wish you would remain with us.  To-morrow, as soon as the tide is out,
Pierre and I will visit the cavern, which, I think, from your
description, we can find; and we will take lanterns and torches.  Again
I say I wish you would wait, and if there is a prize to be obtained,
that you would share it with us."

Jeannette and Pierre also pressed Bill to remain, but he was firm in his
resolution of rejoining Jack, and setting off at once.

He was so proud of the raft they had made, that he would have been ready
to go round the world on it, if it could be got to sail on a wind, and
at all events he had not the slightest doubt about its fitness to carry
him and Jack across the Channel.

Bill had already delayed longer than he intended, and once more bidding
his friends good-bye, he set off for the wreck.  He hurried along as
fast as he could go, for he felt sure that at daybreak it would be seen,
if not from the shore, from the sea, and that people would come and
interfere with his and Jack's proceedings.

As he knew the way thoroughly, he made good progress.  On getting
abreast of the wreck, he looked out for Jack, but could nowhere see him.

The water was already coming round the vessel, and in a short time would
be too deep to wade through.  He thought that Jack must have gone below,
but he was afraid of giving a loud shout, lest his voice might be heard.
He accordingly, without stopping, made his way on board.

Great was his alarm when he could nowhere discover Jack.

Could he have gone to the cavern? or could he have been carried off?

The latter was not probable, for had the stranded vessel been
discovered, people would have remained in her.

"He must have gone to the cavern, and to save time, I must follow him,"
he said to himself; and sliding down the rope, he made his way as fast
as he could towards its mouth.

He quickly climbed up, and hurried on as fast as he dare move in the
dark, holding out his hands to avoid running against the sides, or to
save himself should he fall.

He knew that there were no pitfalls or other serious dangers, or he
could not have ventured to move even so fast as he did.

He shouted out as he went Jack's name.

"How foolish I was not to bring a lantern with me," he said.  "Jack is
sure to have taken one if he went to get more gold, and that I suspect
is what he has been after; if he has a light, I shall see it, but I
don't."

"Jack!  Jack!" he again shouted out; but the cavern only echoed with his
voice.

Bill was a fine-tempered fellow, but he felt very much inclined to be
angry with Jack.  All their plans might be upset by his having left the
wreck.  Even should he soon find him, they would have to swim on board,
and set off in their wet clothes; but that was of little consequence
compared with the delay.

At last his hands touched the rock near their camping-place, and he
thence groped his way on; for having so often traversed the cavern in
the dark, he found it as easily as a blind man would have done.

He soon felt his feet treading on the ashes of their former fires, and
feeling about, he discovered the things which Jack had thrown out of the
basket.

Among them was a candle and the tinder-box.  Jack having a lighted
lantern, had not troubled himself to bring it.

The basket was gone!  This convinced him that Jack had been there.  He
quickly lighted the candle, and as there was not a breath of air, he was
able to walk along with it in his hand.

The stalactite formations, which appeared on both sides, looked as weird
and strange to him as they had to Jack, but he, knowing perfectly well
what they were, did not trouble himself about their appearance.

He went on, keeping his gaze ahead, in the hopes of meeting Jack.  He
was sorry that he had not made more determined attempts to persuade
Captain Turgot and Pierre to accompany him; for if anything should have
happened to his companion, they would have assisted him.  But what could
have happened? that was the question.  Sometimes he thought that Jack
might, after all, not have come to the cavern; but, then, who could have
carried away the basket?

Brave as he was, the strange shadows which occasionally seemed to flit
by made him feel that he would much rather not have been there all
alone.

Suppose, too, the smugglers should have returned, and, perhaps, caught
Jack; they would seize him also, and it would be impossible to persuade
them that he had not come to rob their store.  Still, his chief anxiety
was for Jack.

He thought much less about himself, or the dangers he might have to
encounter.

Bill was a hero, though he did not know it, notwithstanding that he had
been originally only a London street boy.

"I must find Jack, whatever comes of it," he said to himself, as he
pushed on.

At last he reached the low entrance of the smugglers' store-room, as
Jack and he had called it.  He crept on carefully, and as he gained the
inner end of the passage, he saw a light burning close to where the
goods were piled up, but no voices reached his ear.

If the smugglers were there, they would surely be talking.  He rose to
his feet, holding out the candle before him.  Seeing no one, he advanced
boldly across the cavern.  There lay a figure stretched upon the ground!

It was Jack!



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE RAFT LAUNCHED AND VOYAGE COMMENCED.

Could Jack be dead?  What could have happened to him?  Bill, hurrying
forward, knelt down by his side, and lifted up his head.  He still
breathed.

"That's a comfort," thought Bill.  "How shall I bring him to?  There's
not a drop of water here, and I can't carry him as far as the spring."

Bill rubbed his friend's temples, while he supported his head on his
knee.

"Jack!  Jack! rouse up, old fellow!  What's come over you?"

Bill held the candle up to Jack's eyes.  Greatly to his joy they opened,
and he said, "Where am I?  Is that you, Bill!  Is it gone?"

"I am Bill, and you are in the cavern; but there is nothing to go that I
know of.  It's all right.  Stand up, old fellow, and come along,"
replied Bill, cheeringly.

"Oh, Bill," said Jack, drawing a deep sigh, "I saw something."

"Did you?" said Bill; "the something did not knock you down, though."

"No; but I thought it would," responded Jack.

"That comes of wanting to take what isn't your own," said Bill.
"However, don't let's talk about that.  If we are to get off with this
tide, we must hurry on board as fast as we can.  Don't mind the gold; I
suppose that's what you came for.  Our friends the Turgots will get it,
I hope; and they have more right to it than we have."

Bill's voice greatly re-assured Jack, who, fancying that he saw one of
the ghosts he was afraid of, had fallen down in a sort of swoon.  How
long it would have lasted if Bill had not come to him it is impossible
to say; perhaps long enough to have allowed his candle to be
extinguished.  Had this happened, he would never have been able to find
his way out of the cavern.  He, however, with Bill by his side, soon
felt like himself again.

"Let me just fill my pockets with these gold pieces," he exclaimed.  "I
have taken so much trouble that I shouldn't like to go away without
them."

"Perhaps the ghost will come back if you do," Bill could not help
saying.  "Let them alone.  You have got enough already, and we must not
stop another moment here."

Saying this, he dragged Jack on by the arm.

"Come, if we don't make haste, our candles will go out, and we shall not
be able to see our way," Bill continued.

Jack moved on.  He was always ready to be led by Bill, and began to
think that he had better not have come for the gold.

Bill did not scold him, vexed as he felt at the delay which had
occurred.  They might still be in time to get on board the wreck and to
launch their raft, but it would be broad daylight before they could get
to any distance from the shore, and they would then be sure to be seen.
Bill only hoped that no one would think it worth while to follow them.

Having two lights, they were able to see their way pretty well, though
they could not run fast for fear of extinguishing them.

Every now and then Jack showed an inclination to stop.  "I wish I had
got the gold," he muttered.

Bill pulled him on.

"The gold, I say, would not do us any good.  I don't want it for myself,
and you have got enough to make your mother independent for the rest of
her days."

On they went again.  Bill was thankful, on reaching the mouth of the
cavern, to find that it was still night.  It seemed to him a long time
since he had quitted the wreck.  He did not remember how fast he had
gone.  They jumped down on the beach, and began to wade towards the
wreck, but had to swim some distance.

"If we had had our pockets full of gold we could not have done this,"
observed Bill.  "We should have had to empty them or be drowned.  We are
much better without it."

They soon reached the side of the vessel, and climbed up on deck.  There
was plenty of water alongside to launch the raft, and to get the casks
under it.  The wind, too, if there were any, was off shore, but here it
was a perfect calm.  They had one advantage through having waited so
long; they were beyond the influence of the wave which breaks even on a
weather shore, especially after a gale, although the wind may have
changed.

The tackles having been arranged, they lost no time in launching their
raft, which they did very successfully, easing it with handspikes; and
in a couple of minutes it floated, to their great satisfaction, safely
alongside.  Their first care was to lash the casks under the bottom.
This took some time, but they were well repaid by finding the raft float
buoyantly on the very surface of the water.

The cargo had, however, to be got on board, consisting of the three
chests, which, of course, would bring it down somewhat.  They lowered
one after the other, and lashed them in the positions they had intended.
The foremost chest was secured over all by ropes, as that had not to be
opened, and was to serve only as a step for their mast; the other two
chests were secured by their handles both fore and aft and athwartships,
the lashings contributing to bind the raft still more securely together.

Daylight had now broken, and they were in a hurry to get on with their
work, but this did not prevent them from securing everything
effectually.

They next had to get their stores into the chests; and lastly they
stepped and set up the mast, securing the sail ready for hoisting to the
halyards, which had been previously rove.

They surveyed their work when completed with no little satisfaction, and
considered, not without reason, that they might, in moderate weather,
run across Channel, provided the wind should remain anywhere in the
southward.

They well knew that they must run the risk of a northerly wind or a
gale.  In the first case, though they need not go back, they could make
little or no progress; but then there was always the hope of being
picked up by an English craft, either a man-of-war or a merchant vessel.

They might, to be sure, be fallen in with by a Frenchman, but in the
event of that happening, they intended to beg hard for their liberty.

Should a gale arise, as Jack observed, they would look blue, but they
hoped that their raft would even weather that out.  That it would come
to pieces they had no fear; and they believed that they could cling on
to it till the sea should again go down.

They had put on board a sufficient supply of spare rope to lash
themselves to the chests.

Jack climbed up for the last time on deck, and handed down the three
sweeps, taking a look round to see that nothing was left behind.

"All right," he said; "we may shove off now, Bill.  You are to be
captain, and take the helm, and I'll pull till we get out far enough to
find a breeze.  It seems to me, by the colour of the sea, that it's
blowing in the offing, and we shall then spin merrily along."

"All right," said Bill; "cast off, Jack."

Jack hauled in the rope which had secured the raft to the wreck, and
give a hearty shove against it with his oar, he sent the raft gliding
off some way ahead.  He then got out the other oar, and standing between
the two chests, pulled lustily away.

The raft floated even more lightly than they had expected.  They had so
well noted all the rocks, that they could easily find their way between
them, and there was ample space, especially thereabouts where the brig
had been driven in.

Their progress was but slow, though they worked away with all their
might; every now and then looking back to ascertain whether they were
observed from the shore.  No one, however, could be seen on the cliffs
above; and people, unless they had discovered the wreck, were not likely
at that early hour to come down to the beach.

It took them more than half an hour to get clear of the rocks.  When
once out on the open sea, they began to breathe more freely.  They
pulled on and on; still, unless they should get the wind, they could not
hope to make much progress.  The day was advancing.  Bill wetted his
finger and held it up.

"There's a breeze," he cried out; "hoist the sail, Jack."

The sail filled as Bill sheeted it home, and the raft began to glide
more rapidly over the water.

Jack took in the oars, for he wanted to rest, and there was but little
use rowing, though it might have helped the raft on slightly.

He could now look about him, and as the two harbours to the east and
west opened out, he turned his eyes anxiously towards them.

If they were pursued, it would be from one or the other.  He had little
fear from that on the west, as there was no one likely to trouble
himself about the matter; but there were officials living near the
larger harbour, and they might think it their duty to ascertain what the
small raft standing off shore under sail could be about.

"I wish that we had got away a couple of hours ago," said Bill; but he
did not remind Jack that it was through his fault they had not done so.
He blamed himself, indeed, for having gone to see the Turgots, much as
he would have regretted leaving the country without paying them a visit.

The farther the raft got from the shore the more rapidly it glided
along, the sea being too smooth in any way to impede its progress.

Bill's whole attention was taken up in steering, so as to keep the raft
right before the wind.

Presently Jack cried out, "There's a boat coming out of the harbour.
She's just hoisted her sail, and a whacking big sail it is.  She's
coming after us.  Oh!  Bill! what shall we do?"

"Try to keep ahead of her," answered Bill, glancing round for a moment.
"The Frenchmen may not think it worth while to chase us far, even if
they are in chase of us, and that's not certain.  Don't let us cry out
before we are hurt.  Get out the oars, they'll help us on a little, and
we'll do our best to escape.  I don't fancy being shut up again, or
perhaps being carried off to a prison, and forced into a dungeon, or
maybe shot, for they'll declare that we are escaped prisoners."

Jack did not, however, require these remarks to make him pull with all
his might; still he could not help looking back occasionally.  He was
standing up, it should be understood, rowing forward, with the oars
crossing, the larboard oar held in the right hand, and the starboard in
the left.

"The boat's coming on three knots to our one," he cried out.  "It won't
take her long to be up with us."

"Pull away," again cried Bill.  "We'll hold on till the Frenchmen begin
to fire.  If their bullets come near us, it will be time to think
whether it will be worth running the risk of being shot."

Jack continued to row with might and main, and the raft went wonderfully
fast over the water.  It was too evident, however, that the boat was in
pursuit of them, and in a few minutes a musket ball splashed into the
water a short distance astern of the raft.

"That shows that they are in earnest," said Jack.  "We had better lower
the sail, another might come aboard us."

"Hold all fast, perhaps they are getting tired of chasing us, and may
give it up when they see that we are determined to get away," replied
Bill; not that he had much hope that this was the case, but he stuck to
the principle of not giving in as long as there was a chance of escape.

Jack had plenty of courage, but he did not like being fired at without
the means of returning the compliment.

Another shot from the boat came whistling close to them.

"It's of no use," cried Jack, "we must lower the sail."

"If you're afraid, take in the oars and lie down between the chests;
you'll run very little risk of being hit there; but for my part, I'll
stand at the helm till the boat gets up with us," said Bill.

Jack would not do this, but pulled away as stoutly as at first.

Presently another shot struck one of the oars, and so splintered it that
the next pull Jack gave it broke short off.  He was now compelled to
take in the other.

"The next time the Frenchmen fire they may aim better," he said.  "Come,
Bill, I'm ready to stand by you, but there's no use being killed if we
can help it."

"The boat isn't up with us yet," answered Bill.  "Till she gets
alongside I'll hold on, and maybe at the very last the Frenchmen will
give up."

"I don't see any hope of that," said Jack.  "In ten minutes we shall be
prisoners.  By-the-bye, I turned all my gold into this chest.  If the
Frenchmen find it they'll keep it, so I'll fill my pockets again, and
they may not think of looking into them, but they're sure to rummage the
chest."

Saying this, Jack opened the chest, and soon found his treasure, which
he restored to his pockets.  He asked Bill to take some, but Bill
declined on the same ground that he had before refused to appropriate
it.

Bill again advised Jack to lie down, and, to induce him to do so, he
himself knelt on the raft, as he could in that position steer as well as
when standing up.

Thus they presented the smallest possible mark to the Frenchmen.

Shot after shot was fired at them.  Their chances of escape were indeed
rapidly diminishing.

At last the Frenchmen ceased firing.

They were either struck by the hardihood of the boys, or had expended
their ammunition; but the boat came on as rapidly as before, and was now
not half a cable's length from them.

"We must lower the sail," cried Bill, with a sigh, "or the Frenchmen
maybe will run us down;" and Jack let go the halyards.

In another minute the boat was up to them.

Besides her crew, there were five soldiers on board.

A volley of questions burst from the people in the boat; and all seemed
jabbering and talking together.

As she got alongside the raft, two men leaped out, and seizing Jack and
Bill, hauled them into the boat, while another made fast the raft, ready
to tow it back to the harbour.

Jack and Bill were at once handed aft to the stern-sheets, where they
were made to sit down.  Immediately the officer in command of the boat
put various questions to them, as to who they were, where they had come
from, and where they were going.

According to their previous agreement they made no reply, so that their
captors might not discover that they understood French; still, as far as
Bill could make out, the Frenchmen were not aware that they were the
lads who had escaped from the old tower.

They had no reason to complain of the way they were spoken of by the
Frenchmen, who were evidently struck by their hardihood and
determination in their persevering efforts to escape.  They remarked to
each other that their young prisoners were brave boys, and expressed
their satisfaction that they were not hurt.

When the officer found, as he supposed, that they could not answer him,
he forbore to put any further questions.

The crew did not appear to be angry at the long pull that had been given
them back; indeed, Jack and Bill suspected, from what they heard, that
the seamen, at all events, would not have been sorry if they had escaped
altogether.

On reaching the landing-place in the harbour, they found a party of
soldiers, with an officer, who, from what Bill made out, had sent the
boat in pursuit of them.

As soon as they stepped on shore the officer began to question them, in
the same way as the commander of the boat had done.

Bill shrugged his shoulders and turned to Jack, and Jack shrugged his
and turned to Bill, as much as to say, "I wonder what he's talking
about?"

"The lads do not understand French, that is evident," said the officer
to a subordinate standing near him; "I shall get nothing out of them
without an interpreter.  They do not look stupid either, and they must
be bold fellows, or they would not have attempted to made a voyage on
that raft.  I must have a nearer look at it;" and he ordered the boatmen
to bring it in close to the shore, so that he might examine it.

He again turned to Bill, and said, "What were you going to attempt to
cross the Channel on that?"

Bill, as before, shrugged his shoulders, quite in the French fashion,
for he had learnt the trick from Pierre, who, when he was in doubt about
a matter, always did so.

"I forgot; the boy doesn't understand French," observed the officer.

Bill had some little difficulty in refraining from laughing, as he
understood perfectly well everything that was said around him, except
when the Frenchmen talked unusually fast.

"Let the raft be moored close to the shore, just in its present state,"
said the officer; "the general may wish to see it.  How could the lads
have contrived to build such a machine?"

The commander of the boat explained that a wreck had occurred on the
shore, and that they had evidently built it from the materials they
found on board her, but anything further about them he could not say.

"Well, then, I'll take them up at once to the general, and the
interpreter attached to our division will draw from them all we want to
know.  Come, lads! you must follow me," he said.  "Sergeant, bring the
prisoners along with you."

On this Jack and Bill found themselves surrounded by the soldiers; and
thinking it possible, should they not move fast enough, that their
movements might be expedited by a prick from the bayonets, they marched
briskly forward, keeping good pace with the men.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

AGAIN SHUT UP.

"I say, Bill, I wonder what the mounseers are going to do with us,"
whispered Jack, as they marched along.  "Will they put handcuffs on our
wrists and throw us into a dungeon, do you think?"

Bill acknowledged that he feared such might be the fate prepared for
them.  They were not, however, ill-treated during their walk.  Naturally
they felt very much disappointed at being recaptured, but they tried as
before to put as bold a face as they could on the matter, and talked
away to each other in an apparently unconcerned manner.

They found from the remarks of the soldiers that they had a march of a
couple of miles or more inland to the place where the troops were
encamped, and that they were not to be carried to the old tower.

On one account they were sorry for this, as, having made their escape
once, they thought that they might make it again, though, of course,
they would be more strictly guarded if it was discovered who they were.

From a height they reached they saw the camp spread out on a wide level
space a short distance off.  As they got nearer to it they observed a
party of officers on horseback riding towards them, one of whom, from
the waving plume in his hat, and from his taking the lead, they supposed
was the general.

They were right in their conjecture.  As he approached with his staff,
the officer who had charge of them ordered his men to halt and draw on
one side.

The general reined in his horse and inquired who they were.

The captain explained that two foreign lads, supposed to be English, had
been discovered, endeavouring to leave the shore on a small raft of
curious construction, such as no sane people would have wished to go to
sea on; that there was something very suspicious about their movements,
as they had persisted in trying to escape, although fired at by the
soldiers, and that he had considered it his duty to bring them up for
examination, as he could not understand them or make them understand
him.

"You acted rightly, Captain Dupont," said the general.  "Let them be
brought to my quarters, and I'll send for Colonel O'Toole to
cross-question them."  Bill and Jack understood every word that was
said.  "We are in for it," said Bill; "but we must put a bold face on
the matter, and speak the truth.  We can say that we were living in the
cavern for some time, and that when the brig was wrecked, we resolved at
once to build a raft, and get back to our own country."

"It would save a great deal of trouble if we were to say that we were
wrecked in the brig, and then it would be but natural that we should try
to escape from her," replied Jack.

"It would not be the truth, and we should not be believed," answered
Bill.  "I would say just what happened--that our ship caught fire and
blew up, that we were saved by the fishermen, that some French soldiers
got hold of us and carried us off prisoners, and that we made our escape
from them.  We need not mention the names of our friends, and perhaps
the interpreter won't be very particular in making inquiries."

Bill finally persuaded Jack to agree that they should give a true
account of themselves, leaving out only such particulars as were not
necessary to mention, such as their visit to the Turgots, and their
discovery of the smugglers' stores.

The general, who was making a survey of the country around the camp,
rode on with his staff, while Captain Dupont and his men conducted their
two young prisoners to head quarters, there to await his return.

The general was residing in an old chateau, with a high-peaked roof, and
towers at each of the angles of the building.

The party passed through the gateway, and proceeded to a room near the
chief entrance, which served as a guard-room.

The soldiers remained outside, while the captain, with two men to guard
the prisoners, entered.  Jack and Bill had to wait for some time, during
which they were allowed to sit on a bench by themselves.

Jack began to make observations on the people around them.

"Hush!" whispered Bill, "some one here may understand English better
than we suppose, and we shall be foolish to let our tongues get us into
a worse scrape than we are in already."

Jack took Bill's advice, and when he made any remark it was in a
whisper.

They saw several of the officers who entered looking at them, and they
were evidently the subject of their conversation.  Jack and Bill had
reason to consider themselves for a time persons of some importance,
though they had no wish to be so.

At last an officer in a handsome uniform entered.  He was a red-haired
man, with queer twinkling eyes, and a cock-up nose, anything but of a
Roman type.

Captain Dupont spoke to him, when the lads saw him eyeing them, and
presently he came up and said, "Hurroo! now me boys, just be afther
telling me what part of the world you come from!"

Bill, as agreed on, began his narrative in a very circumstantial manner.

"All moighty foine, if thrue," observed Colonel O'Toole, for he was the
officer who had just arrived, having been sent for to act as
interpreter.

"It's true, sir, every word of it," said Bill.

"Well! we shall see, afther you repeat it all over again to the gineral,
and moind you thin don't made any changes," said the colonel.

Bill wisely did not reply.  Presently the general with his staff
appeared, he and a few officers passing on into an inner room.  A few
minutes afterwards Jack and Bill were sent for.

They found the general with Colonel O'Toole and several other persons
seated at a table.

The general spoke a few words, when the colonel again told the prisoners
to give an account of themselves.

Bill did so exactly in the words he had before used, Colonel O'Toole
interpreting sentence by sentence.

"Good!" said the general.  "And what could induce you, when you were
once safe on shore, to venture out to sea on so dangerous a machine?"

The colonel interpreting, turned to Jack.

"I wanted to get home and see my mother, for she must fancy I am lost,"
answered Jack.

"Well, and a very right motive too," said the colonel; and he explained
to the general what Jack had said.

"And what induced you to attempt the voyage?" asked the colonel, turning
to Bill.  "Did you want to get back to see your mother?"

"No, sir; I have no mother to see," answered Bill.  "I wanted to get
back to do my duty, and fight the enemies of my country."

The general laughed when this was interpreted to him; and observed to
the officers around him, "If such is the spirit which animates the boys
of England, what must we expect from the men?  I must, however, consider
whether we shall allow these boys to return home.  They are young now,
but in a short time they will grow into sturdy fellows."

"They've got tongues in their young heads," remarked the colonel.  "I'm
not altogether certain that they are quite as innocent as they look.
Maybe they were sent on shore as spies, and perhaps are midshipmen
disguised as common seamen."

"Let them be searched, then, and ascertain whether they have any papers
about them which may show their real character," said the general.

Jack and Bill clearly understood these remarks, and began to feel very
uncomfortable.

Bill remembered that Jack had got his pockets filled with gold, and Jack
remembered it too, and wished that he had left it behind in the cavern
as Bill had advised.

The colonel, who was in no wise particular as to what work he performed,
at once took hold of Bill.

"Come, young gintleman," he said, "let me see what you have got in your
pockets, and next your skin; or, if you will save me the throuble, just
hand out your orders or any papers you may have about you."

"I have got none, sir," answered Bill.  "I told you the truth, that we
are mere ship-boys, and as to being spies as you seem to think, we had
nothing to spy out that I know of."

"Well, we will soon see all about that," said the colonel, beginning to
search Bill; but, greatly to his surprise, he found nothing whatever
about him, except his knife, the whole of Bill's worldly wealth, "I told
you so, sir," said Bill, when he had finished.  "I spoke only the truth
about myself and my companion."  Bill said this, hoping that Jack would
escape the search; but the colonel was far too knowing, and presently he
seized upon Jack, who, in spite of his efforts to appear unconcerned,
began to quake.

The first plunge the colonel made with his hand into one of Jack's
pockets brought forth a number of gold pieces.  "Hurroo! now, this is
your innocence is it, young gintlemen?" he exclaimed, exhibiting a
handful of gold to the general.  "Let me be afther seeing what your
other pocket contains;" and as he spoke he quickly drew forth another
handful of gold, some of which, observing that the general and the other
officers were examining the first which he had produced, he slipped into
his own pocket.

"Troth! you're an arrant young rogue," he exclaimed.  "You either stole
these, or they were given you to bribe the people to betray their
country."

"They were not given me to bribe any one, and I didn't steal them,"
answered Jack, boldly; "I took them out of the chest which was on our
raft, and there was no harm in doing that, I should think."

Bill was somewhat surprised to hear Jack say this.  It was the truth,
and the idea must have at that moment occurred to him.  He was thus
saved from having to betray the existence of the boxes of gold in the
cavern, which the colonel would not have long allowed to remain
unvisited, he suspected, from the little incident which has just been
described.

The colonel translated fairly enough to the general what Jack had just
said.

"It is probably the truth," he remarked; "however, let the boys be
detained till we can ascertain more about them.  I don't wish to have
them ill-treated.  There is a room in the western turret where they can
be shut up securely till to-morrow.  Colonel O'Toole, see that my orders
are carried out; but you can first let them have a view of the army,
that they may tell their friends, if they get home, of the mighty force
prepared for the conquest of England, and impress on the minds of their
countrymen how hopeless is their attempt to resist the armies of
France."

Bill understood every word of these remarks, and they raised his hopes
that they might be set at liberty and allowed to return home; still, the
Irish colonel did not look very amiably at them; perhaps he did not
quite like Bill's observations.

"Come along," he said, turning to them; and, bowing to the general and
to the other officers, he conducted them from the room, when the two
soldiers, who stood ready outside, again took charge of them.

They were led along to a terrace, from whence a view extended over the
surrounding country.  Here they saw an almost countless number of white
tents pitched, with soldiers in various uniforms moving among them.

"Can you count those tents?" asked the colonel.  "Each tent contains
eleven or thirteen men, and one spirit animates the whole--that is, the
conquest of perfidious Albion."

"They'll have a tough job, sir, let me tell them," observed Bill.  "I
haven't seen much of English sojers except the Guards in London, and our
Marines on board ship, but I know that one of our Guardsmen would lick a
whole tentful of the little chaps I see about here; and I would advise
the general to stay quietly at home, and not attempt to take our tight
little island."

"The French have wrongs to revenge, as have my gallant people, and
bitterly will they revenge them some day, when your king and his nobles
are brought in chains to France."

"That won't be just yet, and may be never," answered Bill, who was
growing bold, and inclined to speak his mind.  "I'll not bandy words
with you, boy.  Take care what you are about!" exclaimed the colonel,
who did not like Bill's boldness, especially when he saw a broad grin on
Jack's countenance.  "If you ever get back to England--and I don't say
you ever will get back--remember what you have seen to-day, and tell
those wretched slaves your countrymen what they are to expect."

"We'll not forget it, sir," answered Bill, thinking it wiser to be
civil; "and I hope the general won't think it necessary to keep in
prison two poor sailor boys who never did any harm to the French, and
never wished to do any harm, except to thrash them well in a fair
stand-up fight; and you will allow, sir, that that's all right and fair
play."

"Or receive a thrashing from them," answered the colonel; "however, come
along.  I must see you stowed safely in the tower, where the general has
ordered you to be placed, and moind you kape quiet and don't kick up a
row, as you midshipmen are apt to do."

"We are not midshipmen, sir," said Bill, who had not forgotten what the
colonel had before said.  "We are humble boys serving before the mast.
Jack, there, is a fisherman's son, and I am a poor boy out of the London
streets.  I am only telling you the truth, sir."

"You are a very sharp boy, then," responded the colonel, looking at
Bill.

"Yes, sir," said Bill, "the school I went to is a place where boys are
apt to get their wits sharpened.  They have little else to depend on."

The colonel still seemed to doubt whether Bill was speaking the truth,
and, perhaps fortunately for them, was fully impressed with the idea
that he had charge of a couple of midshipmen.  Possibly Bill was a
lord's son; and though he railed against English lords, yet, when
brought into contact with them, he was inclined to pay them the deepest
respect.

Owing to the colonel's idea, Bill and Jack were treated with far more
attention than they otherwise would have received.

The room into which they were put, though small, had a table and chairs
in it, and a bed in one corner.

"You will remain here for the present," said the colonel, as he saw them
into the room; "probably before long the general may wish to examine you
again, and I would advise you to take care that you tell him only the
truth, and confess your object in coming to the country."

Bill made no answer; and the colonel, after again surveying the room,
took his departure, locking the door behind him.



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

THE ESCAPE.

Jack and Bill heard Colonel O'Toole descending the stairs, and,
listening, were convinced that he had gone away without leaving a sentry
at the door.

"We are in luck," said Bill, as he looked round the room.  "This is a
better place than the old tower, and I don't see that it will be much
more difficult to escape from."

They went to the window.  It was long and narrow, but there was ample
space for them to creep out of it.  It was, however, a great height from
the ground; three or four storeys up they calculated; and should they
attempt to drop down, they would break every bone in their bodies.

"It cannot be done, I fear," said Jack.

"It can be done, and we'll do it before to-morrow morning, too,"
answered Bill.  "When the general ordered us to be shut up here, he was
thinking that we were just like a couple of French boys, without a
notion of going aloft, or of finding their way down again."

"But I don't see how we can manage to get down here," said Jack, peeping
through the window, cautiously though, for fear of being seen.  "There
is nothing to lay hold of, and the door is locked and bolted.  I heard
that traitor Irishman shoot a bolt before he went away."

"Look here," replied Bill, pointing towards the bed.

"Why, that's a bed," said Jack.  "It was very good-natured in the
mounseers to give it us to sleep on."

"What do you think it's made of?" asked Bill.  "Why, sheets and blankets
and ticking," replied Jack.  "Yes," said Bill, "you are right; and with
those selfsame sheets and blankets, and maybe a fathom or two of rope
besides, underneath, I intend that we shall try to lower ourselves down
to the ground; and when we are once outside, it will be our own fault if
we do not get back to the harbour, and when there, that we do not get on
board our raft again.  The French captain said it was to be left just as
it was for the general to see it to-morrow morning.  Before that time
comes, I hope that we shall be out of sight of land, if we get a fair
breeze, or, at all events, out of sight of the people on shore."

"I'm always ready for anything you propose, Bill," said Jack.  "I see
now well enough how we are to get away.  If all goes smoothly, we shall
do it.  But suppose we are caught?--and there are a good many chances
against us, you'll allow."

"We can but be shut up again.  Even if they were to flog us, we could
stand it well enough; and as to the pain, that would be nothing, and it
would not be like being flogged for breaking the articles of war, or
doing anything against the law.  I should call it an honourable
flogging, and should not mind showing the scars, if any remained," said
Bill.

"I'm your man, and the sooner we set about turning our sheets and
blankets into a rope the better," exclaimed Jack, enthusiastically.  "If
we are caught and punished ever so much, we must not mind it."

"Stop a bit," said Bill.  "Perhaps the red-haired colonel may pay us a
visit before nightfall.  We must not be caught making preparations for
our escape; that would be a green trick."

"I hope if they come they'll bring us some supper," said Jack.  "I am
pretty sharp set already; and if the mounseers should have stolen the
grub out of our chest, we should have nothing to eat on our voyage."

"I have been thinking too much about going away to feel hungry," said
Bill.  "But now you talk of it, I should like some food, and I hope
they'll bring enough to last us for a day or two.  Now, I say, it's
getting dark, and we must fix upon the best spot to lower ourselves down
to.  You listen at the door lest any one should come up suddenly, and
I'll examine the windows and settle the best plan."

Bill, however, first went to the bed, examined the blankets and sheets
and mattress, and found, to his satisfaction, that below all were two
thick pieces of canvas, drawn together by a rope.  The rope, though
rather thin, would, he was satisfied, bear their light weights.  It
might take them half an hour or so to twist the various materials up
into a rope, and altogether would give them one of ample length for
their purpose.

This discovery greatly raised the boys' spirits and hopes of success.

Bill now went to the window, and found that the grass came close up to
the walls of the tower underneath.  Even should they fall from a
considerable height, they might have the chance of not breaking their
bones, and that was some satisfaction.  An iron bar extended from the
top of the window to the bottom in the centre.  He felt it, and it was
strong as need be.  It would do well for securing their rope.  As far as
he could judge, there was no window under them.  This was of
consequence, as had there been, they might have been seen by any person
within during their descent, rapidly as they might make it.  Bill
considered whether it would be possible to withdraw the rope after they
had descended, but he doubted whether they had sufficient materials to
enable them to do that.

"Well, it cannot be helped," Bill said to himself.  "The Frenchmen will
see how we escaped, but they won't find it out till daylight, and it
won't matter much then."

He had finished his survey, and settled his plan, when Jack cried out,
"Hist! there's some one coming!" and they ran back and sat themselves
down near the table with their heads on their hands, as if they were
feeling very melancholy and disconsolate.

"I wish I could squeeze out a tear," said Jack; "but I can't for the
life of me.  I feel so jolly at your idea of getting off."

Presently the door opened, and an old woman entered with a basket.

"I have brought you some food and a bottle of wine, mes garcons," she
said, in a kind tone.  "The general gave me permission, and I was very
glad to bring it, as I knew that you must be hungry.  Poor boys!  I
heard of your attempt to get away.  You would have been drowned to a
certainty if you hadn't been caught, and that would have been sad, for
one of you, they say, wanted to get back to see his mother.  I have got
a son at sea, so I can feel for her.  I wish he was safe back again.  I
don't know what they will do with you, but I hear that you are to be
tried to-morrow, and the Irish officer here says you are spies, and if
so, you will run a great chance of being hung, or, at all events, shut
up in a prison till you confess what you have been about.  Ah! but I
forgot.  They say you don't speak French, and you may not have
understood a word I have said."

Jack and Bill could scarcely refrain from laughing as the old woman ran
on, but they restrained themselves, and when she showed them the
contents of the basket, they merely said, "Bon! bon! merci! merci!"
several times, and looked very well pleased, as indeed they were, for
there was food enough to last them two or three days, full allowance--
cheese and sausages, bread, figs, raisins, and butter, besides the
bottle of wine.

They were afraid of drinking much of that, not knowing how weak it was,
lest it should get into their heads, for they wanted no Dutch courage to
do what they intended--they had pluck enough without that.

The old woman--not that she was so very old, but she was small and thin,
with a high white cap and a brown dress fitting closely, which made her
look older than she was--stood by, after she had covered the table with
the provisions, that she might have the pleasure of seeing the boys eat.
They were very willing to give her that pleasure, and set to with a
good appetite.

She smiled benignantly, and patted them on their heads, as she watched
them stowing away the various things.  They were not very particular as
to which they took first.

"Bon! bon!" said Jack, every now and then, as he saw that his saying so
pleased her.  "Merci! merci!"

She poured them out some wine; it was dreadfully sour, so Bill thought,
and he made signs to her that he would drink it by-and-by, as he did not
like to show her how much he disliked it.

Jack was not so particular, but he was content with a mouthful or two,
and then began again on the sausages and figs.

"I hope she is not going to stop till we have done," said Bill, "or she
may take away the remainder.  I'll try and make her understand that we
should like a little more by-and-by.  I vote we stop now and put the
things into the basket.  We'll then show her that we do not wish her to
take them away."

The kind old housekeeper of the chateau--for such she was--seemed to
understand the boys' wishes.  Bill even ventured to say a few words in
French, which would show her what they wanted; and at last, wishing them
good-night, she took her departure.

They heard the door locked and bolted after she went out, as if by some
other person; and it made them fear that a sentry was placed there, who
might, should they make any noise, look in to see what they were about.
It would be necessary, therefore, to be extremely cautious as to their
proceedings.

"There's no one moving," said Bill, who had crept to the door to listen.
He, of course, spoke in a low whisper.  "I vote we set to work at once
and make our rope.  It will take some time, and we ought to be off as
soon as the people have turned in, as we must try to get a good distance
from the shore before daylight."

"Suppose any one was to come, and find us cutting up our bed-clothes,"
said Jack, "it would be suspected what we were going to do."

"We'll keep the coverlid till the last, so as to throw it over the bed
should we hear a step on the stair; we must then sit down on the edge,
and pretend that we are too sorrowful to think of going to bed," said
Bill.

"That will do," replied Jack; "I never was a good hand at piping my eye,
but I know that I should be inclined to blubber if I thought there was a
chance of being found out."

"There's no use talking about that.  We must run the risk," observed
Bill; "so here goes."  And he forthwith turned back the coverlid, and
began measuring the sheets.  They were of strong and tough material, and
by dividing each into four lengths, he calculated that a rope formed of
them would be of sufficient strength for their purpose, and they were
quickly cut through with their knives, and each length was then twisted
tightly up.

The bed-ticking was treated in the same manner; but that being of less
strength, gave them only six much shorter lengths.  The sacking and rope
at the bottom of the bed would, Bill was sure, reach, at all events, to
a short distance from the ground.

As they twisted and bent one piece to another, they surveyed their work
with satisfaction, and were convinced that it would bear their weight,
though it would hardly have borne that of a man of moderate size.  To
try it, they tugged away against each other, and it held perfectly firm.

"It will do famously," exclaimed Bill, after they had joined all the
pieces together.  "Even if it does not quite reach to the ground, I
should not mind dropping a dozen feet or so."

"But if we do that, the noise we make in our fall may be heard," said
Jack.  "Hadn't we better bend on the coverlid?  It's not so strong as
the sheets, but we can put it at the lower end."

Bill agreed to this, and, as it was of considerable width, it formed
three lengths.

"We have enough almost for a double rope, I expect," said Bill, as he
coiled it away ready to carry to the window at the opposite side of the
room.

"Oh, no; I don't think we've enough for that," said Jack; "even if we
had, it won't matter leaving the rope behind.  The Frenchmen will see by
the disappearance of the bed-clothes how we got out.  I advise that we
make only one rope, and just get down to the ground as quietly as we can
manage to do."

Bill made another trip to the door to listen.

"No one is coming," he whispered, as he returned.  "Now let's carry the
rope to the window."

They did so, and Bill leant out to listen again.  No sounds reached his
ear, except the occasional barking of a dog.

"The people go to bed early in this country," he observed, "and I am
very much obliged to them.  We may start, Jack, without much fear of
being stopped."

"But don't let us forget our grub," said Jack; and they filled their
pockets with the provisions the old woman had brought them, tying up the
remainder in their handkerchiefs, which they fastened to the lanyards of
their knives.  "Now let's bend on the rope," said Bill.

They secured it round the iron bar.

"I'll go first," said Jack; "if the rope bears me, it's certain to bear
you."

"No; I proposed the plan, and I ought to go first," answered Bill.
"It's of no use wasting words.  Don't begin to come down till you feel
that I am off the rope.  So here goes."

Bill, on saying this, climbed through the narrow opening between the bar
and the side of the window, and then, first grasping the bar with his
hands, threw his legs off straight down, and began descending the thin
rope.  Jack stretched out his head to watch him, but Bill soon
disappeared in the darkness.

The rope held, however, though, as he felt it, it appeared stretched to
the utmost.  He could with difficulty draw a breath, while he waited
till, by finding the rope slacken, he should know that Bill had safely
reached the bottom.  At last he ascertained that Bill was no longer
hanging to the rope, while, from not hearing a sound, he was sure that
his companion had performed the feat in safety.

As Bill had charged him not to lose a moment, he, following his example,
commenced his descent.

Down and down he went, but had he not been thoroughly accustomed to
suspend himself on thin ropes, he could not have held on.  It seemed to
him that he should never reach the bottom; how much further he had to go
he could not tell.

All at once he felt a hand grasping him by the leg.  A sudden fear
seized him.

Could the Frenchmen have got hold of Bill, and were they about to
recapture him?

He could with difficulty refrain from crying out; still, as there would
be no use in attempting to get up the rope again, he continued to lower
himself.

The hand was withdrawn, and presently he found that he had reached the
ground.

"All right," whispered Bill in his ear; "I caught hold of your ankle to
let you understand that you were close to the bottom.  Now let's be off!
The harbour lies directly under yonder star.  I marked its position
during daylight, and again just before I began to descend the rope."



CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

VOYAGE ON THE RAFT.

Bill and Jack remained for a few seconds in the dark shade caused by the
tall wall of the chateau, listening attentively for any sounds of people
moving about.  None reached their ears, and only here and there, in the
more distant part of the building, were any lights to be seen gleaming
from the windows.

"We may run for it now without much chance of being seen," said Bill.
"We must step lightly, though, or we may be heard by some of the
sentries.  Keep your eye on the star, it's the best guide we have for
the harbour.  Now for it! let's start."

They set off, treading as lightly as they could on the ground with their
bare feet, the soles of which were pretty well hardened.  For some
distance they had only grass to run over, and a couple of phantoms could
scarcely have produced less sound.

In a short time, however, they reached a fence.  It was somewhat rotten,
and as they were climbing over it, a part gave way and came down with a
crash.

"Quick!" said Bill, as he was helping over Jack, who followed him; "we
must run on like the wind; somebody may be coming to find out what's the
matter."

They did not stop, as may be supposed, to repair the damage they had
caused, but soon reaching a road which led in the direction they wished
to take, they scampered on at full speed.

Tall trees grew on either side of the road, which, casting a dark shadow
over it, would have effectually concealed them from view, even if
anybody had been looking out for them.  The darkness, however, also
prevented them from seeing any one who might be ahead.

Sometimes indeed they had a difficulty in keeping in the middle of the
road.

"I hope we're going in the right direction," said Jack; "I can't see the
star, and the road seems to me to have twisted about."

"We must, at all events, go on," answered Bill.  "Perhaps we shall catch
sight of the star again before long, and we must steer our course
accordingly.  There's no use stopping still."

They went on and on.

"There it is at last," cried Jack.

The trees which lined the road were much lower, being indeed mere
pollards, and allowed them to see the sky overhead.

Presently they heard a dog bark; then another and another.  Could the
brutes be barking at them?

It was a sign that there were dwellings near, and the inhabitants might
be looking out to ascertain what made their dogs bark.

"Never mind," whispered Bill; "the chances are that the dogs are tied
up, and if we keep moving the people won't see us."

They passed through the village or hamlet.

They were still, they knew, some distance from the harbour.

Here and there only could they see a light twinkling from a window,
probably of some sick-chamber.  It was pretty evident that most of the
people had gone to bed, still some one or other might be up who would
give the alarm.

They found themselves verging to the right; it was better, however, than
keeping to the left side, which might lead them away from the harbour.
Presently they came to some grassy downs, and the regular road they had
been pursuing turned sharp off to the left.

"We had better keep straight on," said Bill; "we shall be more exposed
on the open downs; but then it isn't likely that anybody will be there
to see us, so that won't matter."

Jack, as usual, was ready to do whatever Bill proposed.  They got
quickly over the grass, which was cropped short by sheep feeding on it,
and they could manage to see somewhat better than they had done on the
road.  Presently Jack, whose eyesight was even keener than Bill's,
having been well practised at night from his childhood, caught his
companion's arm, exclaiming, "Hold back; it seems to me that we have got
to the edge of the downs."

They crept cautiously forward.  In another instant they would have leapt
down a cliff some hundred feet in height, and been dashed to pieces.

They turned away from it, shuddering at the fearful risk they had run,
and kept along on somewhat lower ground, still having the star which had
before guided them ahead.

Once more they found themselves approaching buildings, but they were low
and scattered; evidently only in the outskirts of the village.

"We must be close to the harbour now," said Jack.

"The greater reason that we should be cautious," observed Bill.  "This
road, I suspect, leads right down to the part of the harbour we want to
reach."

They ran on, their hope of escape increasing.

Suddenly they heard the voice of a man shouting out, "Who goes there?"

Bill seized Jack's arm, and pulled him down in the shadow of a high
wall, near which they happened at that moment to find themselves.

Some minutes they waited, scarcely daring to draw breath.

The shout was not repeated.

"We may go on now," whispered Jack; and getting up, they crept forward.
Presently, below them, they caught sight of the harbour, with the stars
reflected on its surface.

The most difficult part of their undertaking was now to be performed.
They had to find out exactly where their raft lay.

Bill had not failed to observe the shape of the harbour, and to take
note of the various objects on shore, as he and Jack were brought in
prisoners by the French boat; but the partial survey he was then able to
make did not enable him to settle positively in what direction they
ought to proceed to find their raft.

By keeping on as they were then going they believed that they should
make the shore of the harbour at no great distance from the mouth.  They
might then keep along up it until they reached the place where they
landed, near which they hoped to find their raft moored.

"I am only afraid that we may meet some guards or patrols, or fishermen
coming on shore or going off to their vessels," observed Jack.

"If we do we must try to hide ourselves," answered Bill.  "We'll keep
along as close as we can under the cliffs, or any walls or houses we are
passing, so that we may see people before we are seen ourselves."

They acted as Bill suggested, and pushed boldly onwards.  Not a sound
was heard coming either from the land side or from the harbour.  The
water was as smooth as glass.

They were still going forward when Jack seized Bill's arm.  "That's the
place," he whispered.  "I can make out the raft, moored outside a boat
at the end of a slip."

Bill, creeping forward, assured himself that Jack was right, and, as
nothing could be gained by waiting a moment, they hurried on, and in a
few seconds were on board their raft.  Jack plunged his hand into one of
the chests, to ascertain that the articles it had contained were still
there.  They had not been taken away.

He could scarcely refrain from shouting out for joy.

Even the oars had not been removed.

They got another from the boat alongside to supply the place of the one
which had been splintered.

"Cut the warps," cried Bill.  "We'll paddle on till we find the breeze."

The raft was quickly cast loose, and, getting out the oars, they began
to paddle silently down the harbour.  They could not avoid making some
slight noise, but they hoped that there was no one on the watch to hear
it.  Very frequently they turned their glances astern to ascertain if
they were followed, but they could see nothing moving.  There were
several vessels lower down the harbour, so they steered a course which
would carry them past at some little distance from them.

The raft moved easily over the smooth surface, and they made good way.
There was only one vessel more which they had to pass before they
reached the harbour's mouth.  They both earnestly hoped that her crew
were fast asleep, and that no watch was kept on deck.

They paddled slowly by, and more than half a cable's length from her,
moving their oars as gently as possible, and scarcely daring to breathe.
The slightest sound might betray them.

At length they got outside her, and there was nothing now between them
and the open channel.

Again Jack could hardly refrain from shouting.

Just then a voice came from the vessel.

Bill looked back.  He judged by the distance the vessel was off that the
character of the raft could not be discovered.  He answered in very good
French, "We are going out early this morning, and if we have good luck
in fishing, we'll bring you some for breakfast."

"Thank you, my friend, thank you," answered the man on board the vessel.

Bill had been paddling on all the time he was speaking.  He was certain
that the man did not suspect who he and Jack were, and in a few minutes
they lost sight of the vessel altogether.

They now gave way with might and main.  They were rowing for life and
liberty; for if again caught, they fully believed that they should be
shot.  How anxiously they wished that a breeze would spring up!

For fully an hour they rowed on, till the shore faded from sight.

They were steering by the polar star, which both Jack and Bill knew
well.

"If there's a breeze from the southward, we ought to feel it by this
time," observed Jack.

"Never fear; we shall find it before long," answered Bill.  "We are not
so far away from the cliffs as you suppose, and it would be as well not
to speak loud, or our voices may reach any boat passing, or even people
on shore."

"I hope there will be none there at this hour, though they will come
down fast enough in the morning from the chateau, when they find we have
taken French leave," said Jack.

"A very proper thing to take, too, seeing we were in France," remarked
Bill, with a quiet chuckle.  "I hope we shall never set foot on its
shores again."

"So do I; but I'm afraid we have a great chance of doing so, unless we
get a breeze pretty soon.  I am inclined to whistle for it," said Jack.

"It won't come the faster for that," answered Bill.  "We shall do more
good by working our oars.  We are sending the raft along at three knots
an hour at least, and as it will be three hours or more before daylight,
we shall be ten miles or so away from the shore, even if we do not get a
breeze, before the Frenchmen find out that we have got off."

As Bill advised, he and Jack continued pulling away as lustily as at
first.

The smoothness of the water was a great advantage to them, for had there
been any sea their progress would have been much slower.

An hour or more passed away, when Bill exclaimed, "Here comes the wind,
and right aft, too!  It's not very strong yet, but it will freshen soon,
I hope.  Stand by, Jack, to hoist the sail!"

"Ay, ay!" answered Jack, taking hold of the halyards and feeling that
all was clear.

"Hand me the sheet; and now hoist away," said Bill.

Jack, with right good will, hauled away at the halyards, and the sail
was soon set.

The raft felt the influence of the breeze and glided on at an increased
speed.  It was cheery to hear the water rippling against the bows.

"We must take care not to capsize the raft if the wind increases much,"
observed Bill.  "Keep the halyards ready to let go in a moment; the sail
is full large for our craft, and it would not take long to capsize it."

"Trust me for that," said Jack; "I have no wish to be drowned, and I
feel wonderfully jolly at the thought of having got away.  Are you
steering a right course, Bill?  It seems to me that the sail must be
between you and the polar star."

"No; I can see it directly over the yard when I stand up and keep well
aft," answered Bill.  "The wind, too, won't let us go in any other
direction."

"How about the tide?" asked Jack.

"Why, as it was just on the ebb when we came out of the harbour, and
helped us along, it is, I calculate, making to the westward.  It won't,
however, run much longer in that direction, and it will then carry us to
the eastward for a good six hours.  We'll be well out of sight of land
by that time, and, I hope, may fall in with an English cruiser, though,
for my part, I would rather run right across the Channel.  It would be
fine fun to land, and tell the people how we managed it.  They would
think more of our raft than the Frenchmen did, though there are not many
boys afloat who would not try to do as we have done."

Jack was of the same opinion, and as there was no necessity for rowing,
while Bill steered, Jack sat on a chest with his arms folded.  Suddenly
he exclaimed, "I say, Bill, I am getting very peckish; I vote we have
some supper."

"Well, we have not far to go for it," observed Bill, "seeing we have got
enough in our pockets to last us for the whole of to-morrow."

As Bill could not well manage to steer and tend the sheet and eat his
supper, too, he let Jack finish his; after which they changed places,
and Bill fell to with a good appetite on some of the old Frenchwoman's
provisions.

"I hope the kind old creature won't get into any scrape for supplying
us," said Bill.

"I don't see how it will be found out that she gave us so much," said
Jack.  "When she finds that we are gone, she'll keep her own counsel,
depend on that."

"We must not expend the food too fast, though," remarked Bill.  "It will
take us several days to get across Channel; and it won't do to run short
of provisions."

"You forget those we have in the chest," said Jack.

"Are you certain that the Frenchmen allowed them to remain there," asked
Bill, opening the lid of one of them, and feeling about.  "Yes! here's a
piece of beef or pork and some biscuit.  All right, we shall do now.
I'll take the helm again if you like; I feel more comfortable when I'm
at it, though you steer well enough, I dare say."

"As you like," said Jack.  "I'd just as soon stand by the halyards."

They again changed places.

Bill kept his eye on the polar star, while Jack peered under the sail
ahead, that they might not, as he said, run down any craft.

Thus the night passed away.  The breeze slightly increased, but Bill
considered that they might still carry their whole sail with safety.
Perhaps they did not move along quite so fast as he supposed.  He told
Jack that he thought they were running through the water at five knots
an hour; but four, or even three, knots was a good deal for a raft to
make, with flat bows, light and well put together as it was.

They were too much excited to feel the slightest inclination to sleep,
and being both in capital spirits, did not trouble themselves with
thinking of the possibility that the weather might change before they
could get across to the English coast.  A fast lugger would take nearly
two days to do the distance.

The dawn now broke, and they eagerly looked out on every side for a
sail.  As the light increased they were greatly disappointed, on gazing
astern, to discover the French coast still in sight, though blue and
indistinct, like a cloud rising out of the water.  No sail, however, was
to be seen in that direction.  That was a comfort; they were not pursued
by any large craft, and could certainly not be seen from the shore.

To the northward, however, they caught sight of a sail just rising above
the horizon, and soon afterwards another was seen to the eastward, but
which way she was standing they could not determine.

As the sun rose the wind decreased, and before long it became perfectly
calm.

"We must lower the sail and take to our oars again," said Bill.  "It
won't do to stop where we are."

"I am ready to pull on as long as I have any strength in me," answered
Jack, as he stowed the sail, and got out his oar.



CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

A NARROW ESCAPE--THE FUGITIVES PICKED UP BY A FRIGATE.

The rest Jack and Bill had obtained while their raft was under sail
enabled them to row with as much vigour as at first; and row they did
with might and main, knowing that their liberty might depend upon their
exertions.

The calm was very trying, for they had expected to be wafted quickly
across the Channel, and row as hard as they could, their progress must
be slow.  After rowing for a couple of hours or more, they found
themselves apparently no nearer the ship ahead than they had been at
first.

At length hunger compelled them to lay in their oars and take some
breakfast.  They ate a hearty one, for they had plenty of provisions;
but on examining their stock of water they found that they must be very
economical, or they might run short of that necessary of life.

After a short rest, Bill sprang to his feet.

"It won't do to be stopping," he observed.  "If we only make a couple of
miles an hour it will be something, and we shall be so much nearer home,
and so much farther away from the French shore."

"I'm afraid that when the mounseers find out that we have escaped, they
will be sending after us," said Jack.  "They will be ashamed of being
outwitted by a couple of English boys, and will do all they can to bring
us back."

"I believe you are right, Jack," replied Bill; "only, as they certainly
will not be able to see us from the shore, they won't know in what
direction to pull, and may fancy that we are hid away somewhere along
the coast."

"They'll guess well enough that we should have pulled to the nor'ard,
and will be able to calculate by the set of the tide whereabouts to find
us," said Jack.  "We mustn't trust too much to being safe as yet.  I
wonder what that vessel to the eastward is.  She's a ship, for I can see
her royals above the horizon, and she's certainly nearer than when we
first made her out."

"She must be standing to the westward, then, and will, I hope, pass
inside of us, should the breeze spring up again from the same quarter,"
observed Bill.  "She's probably French, or she would not be so close in
with the coast."

"As to that, our cruisers stand in close enough at times, and she may be
English notwithstanding," answered Jack.

"Unless we are certain that she's English we shall be wiser to avoid
her," remarked Bill, "so we'll pull away to the nor'ard."

"But what do you think of the ship out there?" asked Jack, pointing
ahead.

"I cannot help believing that she's English," said Bill.  "We must run
the chance of being seen by her.  We shall have to pull on a good many
hours, however, first, and when the breeze springs up, she'll pretty
quickly run either to the eastward or westward."

The boys, however, after all their remarks, could arrive at no
conclusion.  They rowed and rowed, but still appeared not to have moved
their position with regard either to the shore or the two vessels in
sight.

The sun rose high above their heads and struck down with considerable
force; but they cared little for the heat, though it made them apply
more frequently than they otherwise would have done to their water-cask.
Bill had more than once to warn Jack not to drink too much.

The day was drawing on, and at last Jack proposed that they should have
another rest and take some dinner.  "There's no use starving ourselves,
and the more we eat the better we shall be able to pull," he said.

Bill was not quite of this opinion.  At the same time he agreed to
Jack's proposal, as his arms were becoming very weary.

They had just finished their dinner when Jack, getting up on the chest
in which the mast was stepped, so that he might have a better look-out,
exclaimed, "I see a sail between us and the land.  The sun just now
glanced on it.  There's a breeze in shore, depend on it, and it will
reach us before long."

Bill jumped up to have a look-out also.  He could not distinguish the
sail, but he thought by the darker colour of the water to the southward
that a breeze was playing over it, though it had not as yet got as far
as they were.  They again took to their oars and pulled on.  Jack,
however, occasionally turned round to look to the southward, for he
entertained the uncomfortable idea that they were pursued.

They were now, they agreed, nearer the ship to the northward.  Her lofty
sails must have caught a light westerly air, which did not reach close
down to the water, and had sent her along two or three knots an hour.
They could see half-way down her courses, and Jack declared his belief
that she was a frigate, but whether English or French he could not
determine.

Unless, however, they were to hoist their sail, they might pass very
close to her without being discovered, and the course she was steering
would take her somewhat to the eastward of them.

They would have to settle the point as to whether she was a friend or
foe, and in the former case whether it would be advisable to hoist their
sail, and made every signal in their power to attract her attention, or
to keep the sail lowered until she was at a distance from them.  Bill
had not been convinced that Jack had seen a sail to the southward.

"Whether or not I saw one before, there's one now," cried Jack, "and
pretty near, too, and what's worse, it's a boat, so that they have oars,
and will be coming up with us in spite of the calm."

"They must have had a breeze to get thus far," remarked Bill.

"Yes, but it has failed them now; see, they are lowering down the sail."
As Jack spoke, a light patch of white like the wing of a wild-fowl was
seen for a moment glancing above the water landward.

"Yes, there's no doubt that was a sail, which must have come from the
shore; but it is a question whether the Frenchmen will have the pluck to
pull on in the hopes of finding us, or will turn back.  One thing is
certain, that we had better try to keep ahead, when they will have
farther to come if they still pursue us."

Once more the boys got their oars out, and laboured away as
energetically as before.  They every now and then, however, looked back
to ascertain if the boat were coming after them.  Meantime a light
breeze played occasionally over the water, but it was so light that it
would not have helped them much, and they thought it wiser not to hoist
their sail, as it would betray their position should a French boat
really be in pursuit of them.

The ship, which they supposed to be a frigate, was in in the meantime
drawing nearer to them from the north-east.

"I cannot help thinking that the boat is still coming after us," cried
Jack.  "I fancy I caught sight of the gleam of the sun on the men's
hats; if I were to swarm up the mast I should be more certain."

"You will run the chance of capsizing the raft if you do," observed
Bill.

"I'll just go a little way up," retorted Jack; and he jumped on the
chest, and hoisted himself three or four feet only up the mast, while
Bill sat down on the deck to counterbalance his weight.

"Yes, I was right," said Jack, coming down.  "I made out a boat, as sure
as we are here, and a large one, too, or I should not have seen her so
clearly.  She's a good way off still, so that it will be some time
before she can get up with us.  The French fellows in her must take
yonder ship to be a countryman, or they would not pull on so boldly."

"They may think that they have time to pick us up and be off again
before the ship can get near them," said Bill; "but whatever they think,
we must try to disappoint them, so we'll pull away as long as we can
stand, and then we'll row on our knees."

The sun was by this time sinking towards the west; and should darkness
come on, their chances of escape would be increased.  The wind had
shifted slightly to the south-west, and should it freshen sufficiently
to make it worth while hoisting the sail, they might stand away to the
north-east.  It still, however, wanted two or three hours before it
would be perfectly dark, while the boat would be up to them before that
time.  After rowing for the greater part of an hour, Jack again took a
look-out, and reported that he could distinctly see the boat.

"So I suspect by this time can the people on board the ship," observed
Bill, "and probably they can see us also; but the crew of the boat well
know that with this light wind they can easily row away from the ship
should she prove to be English."

In a short time they could both see the boat when only standing up on
the raft.  They had now too much reason to fear that, in spite of all
their efforts, they should be overtaken.  Still, like brave boys, they
pulled on, though their arms and backs were aching with their exertions.

The Frenchmen, who must by this time have seen the raft, appeared
determined to re-take them.

Presently a report was heard, and a bullet flew skimming over the water,
but dropped beneath the surface somewhere astern.

Another and another followed.

"Their shot won't hurt us as yet," observed Bill.  "They fancy that they
can frighten us, but we'll show them that they are mistaken;" and he
pulled on as steadily as he had before been doing.

Jack, however, could not resist jumping up once more on the chest, and
looking towards the ship.

"Hurrah! there's a boat coming off from the ship!" he cried out.  "If
she's English, she'll soon make the Frenchmen put about."

Jack was right as to a boat coming from the ship, but the Frenchmen
still pulled on.  Perhaps they did not see the boat, or if they did,
thought that she also was French.

Again and again the pursuers fired, the bullets now falling close to the
raft.

"A miss is as good as a mile," cried Bill, rowing on.

But the French boat was evidently getting terribly near.

If any tolerable marksman were on board, he could easily pick off the
two occupants of the raft.  They knew that well enough, but they kept to
their resolution of pulling on till the last.

They were encouraged, too, by seeing the boat from the stranger making
towards them.  Presently three or four bullets together flew close to
their ears, and fell into the water ahead.

"Pull on! pull on!" cried Bill; "the fellows fired to vent their spite.
They are going to give up the chase."

He looked round as he spoke, and, sure enough, the stern of the boat was
seen.

The Frenchmen were rowing back to the shore.

The boat of the stranger, instead of steering, as she had been, towards
the raft, was now seen directing her course after the French boat, the
crew of which were evidently straining every nerve to escape.

"Hurrah!" cried Jack, standing up and waving his cap, "that's an English
frigate."

"No doubt about it," exclaimed Bill; "I can see her ensign blowing out;"
and he could scarcely refrain from throwing up his cap, but remembered
that it might chance to fall overboard if he did.

Directly afterwards a gun was heard, fired by the frigate.

It was a signal to recall the boat.

She would have had a long pull before she could over take the Frenchmen.

The signal was not to be disobeyed, and she was seen to pull round and
steer for the raft.

The boys eagerly watched her approach.

She was soon up to them.

"Hallo, my lads! where do you come from?" asked the officer, who was
standing up in the stern-sheets.

"We are running away from the Frenchmen, sir," answered Bill.

"A curious craft you have chosen for the purpose," observed the officer.

"It was the best we could get, sir," said Bill.  "We twice have managed
to make our escape, and the first time were caught and carried back."

"Well, we'll hear all about it by-and-by.  Come, jump on board.  I
should like to tow your raft to the frigate, but we must not delay for
that purpose," exclaimed the officer.

Jack and Bill quickly tumbled into the boat, though, as soon as they
were on board, they cast wistful glances at their raft.

The officer ordered the men to give way, and steered the boat towards
the frigate.  He now asked the lads how they came to be in France.

Bill briefly described how the _Foxhound_ had blown up, and the way in
which they had been taken on board a French fishing-vessel, and their
various adventures on shore.

"That's curious enough," observed the lieutenant, "for we have on board
the frigate most of those who escaped."

The officer, who was the third lieutenant of the frigate, had learned
the greater part of their history by the time the boat got up to her.

He and most of the crew quickly climbed on board, followed by the boys.

The falls were hooked on, and the boat hoisted up.

Whom should Jack and Bill see standing on the deck, and issuing his
orders to the crew to "brace round the yards," but Mr Saltwell, the
first lieutenant of their former ship.

They stood for some minutes by themselves, for everybody was too much
engaged to attend to them.  The frigate's head was now turned in the
direction of the stranger they had seen to the eastward, towards which
they observed that the glasses of several of the officers were directed.

"Though she has not shown her colours, I feel positive that she's
French," observed the captain to Mr Saltwell.

"I hope that you are right, sir," was the answer; "but we shall scarcely
get up to her before dark."

"We shall get near enough to make the private signal," said the captain,
"and if she does not answer it we shall know how to treat her when we do
get up to her."

All the sail the frigate could carry was set, and as the breeze had
increased, she ran rapidly through the water.



CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE FRIGATE IN ACTION--BILL SHOWS THAT HE CAN BE OF USE.

The stranger, which had apparently been beating down Channel, now put up
her helm, and setting studden sails stood to the eastward before the
wind.  She failed also to answer the private signal; no doubt,
therefore, remained that she was French, and wished to avoid an action,
though, as she appeared to be as large as the English frigate, if not
larger, this was somewhat surprising.

"Perhaps she has some consorts to the eastward, and wishes to lead us
into their midst during the night," observed Mr Saltwell.

"She will find that she's mistaken.  We will keep too bright a look-out
to be so caught," said the captain.

The first lieutenant, as he was walking forward, caught sight of Bill
and Jack.

"Why, lads, where do you come from?" he asked.

As he spoke he recognised Bill.

"Are you not the lad who gave notice of the plot of the American captain
to capture our ship?" he asked.

Bill acknowledged that such was the case.

"I am truly glad that you have escaped.  I promised our late captain
that I would keep an eye on you," he continued, "and I shall now have
the opportunity.  I thought you, with the rest of our poor fellows, had
been lost when our ship blew up."

Bill briefly described their adventures, and the lieutenant seemed much
interested.  He said he would have them at once entered on the ship's
books, for as they were likely soon to be engaged with the enemy, it
might be of importance to them.

He accordingly sent for the purser, to whom he gave the proper
directions.  Bill and Jack then made their way below.

On passing the galley they saw a boy busily employed, assisting the
cook's mate in cleaning pots and pans.  He looked up at them and
started, letting drop the pot at which he was scrubbing.

"What!  Bill!  Jack!  I thought you had gone to Davy Jones's locker," he
exclaimed.  "Are you really yourselves?"

"No doubt about it, Tom," answered Bill and in a few words they again
told their adventures.

Tom soon recovered from his astonishment.  He appeared somewhat ashamed
of his present occupation.  He had got into a scrape, he acknowledged,
and had been ordered to assist the cook's mate.

"I wish you would tell him, Tom, that we are very hungry, as we have had
a long pull, and that if he would give us something to eat we should be
very much obliged to him.  If he's a good-natured fellow, I daresay he
will."

Tom undertook to plead for them with the cook himself, who just then put
his head out of the galley.  The cook, without hesitation, on hearing
their story, gave them each a basin of broth and a handful of biscuit.

While they were eating they asked Tom to tell them how he had escaped.

"I've no very clear notion about the matter," he answered; "I must have
been in the water, for I found myself lying at the bottom of a boat wet
to the skin, and more dead than alive.  There were a dozen or more of
our fellows in her, and Mr Saltwell, our first lieutenant, who had been
picked up, I supposed, as I had been.  They thought I was done for, and,
as the boat was overloaded, they were about to heave me overboard, when
I opened my eyes, and sang out, `Don't;' so they let me remain, and
after some time pulled alongside a cutter, on board which we were taken
and looked after below.  Shortly afterwards we went in chase of a French
craft of the same rig as ours, but she got away, and we then steered for
Plymouth.  We were at first taken on board the guardship, where we
remained some time, and then I was transferred with others to this
frigate, the _Thisbe_, of which, to my great satisfaction, I found that
Mr Saltwell had been appointed first lieutenant.  Thinking that, as we
had shared a common misfortune, he would stand my friend, I went up to
him, and telling him that I was a gentleman's son, begged he would have
me put on the quarter-deck.  He told me that if I did my duty I should
have as good a chance as others; but here I am set to scrape potatoes
and clean pots and pans.  It's a shame, a great shame, and I can't stand
it."

Bill and Jack had a tolerably correct notion why Tom was not better off,
but they did not say so, as they did not wish to hurt his feelings, and
were grateful to him for having obtained for them the broth and
biscuits.

They had scarcely finished their meal when the order came to extinguish
the galley fire.

A short time afterwards the drum beat to quarters, and every one was
employed in getting the ship ready for action.

Jack and Bill expected that they would be employed in their former
occupation of powder-monkeys, though, having been awake all the previous
night, and in active exertion the whole of the day, notwithstanding the
expectation of a battle, they could with difficulty keep their eyes
open.  They were going with the rest of the boys to the powder-magazine,
when they heard their names called out, and the ship's corporal
appearing, told them that the first lieutenant had directed that they
should turn in below and take some sleep.

A couple of hammocks were slung for them forward, and they very gladly
obeyed the order.

Bill made an effort to keep awake, that he might turn out again should
the ship go into action, but in less than two minutes drowsiness
overtook him, and he went fast asleep.

He dreamed, however, that he heard the guns firing, and the crew
shouting, and that he got up and found that the frigate had taken the
Frenchman.

Meantime, however, the wind falling light, the frigate made but slow
progress, though she still kept the enemy in sight.

When Bill really awoke, the light was streaming down through the
fore-hatchway.  He roused up Jack, as there was no one below to call
them, and on going on deck they discovered the crew at their quarters,
and the French frigate almost within range of their guns.

She was to leeward, for the wind was still in its former quarter, and
she had just then hauled up and backed her main-topsail to await their
coming.

She was now seen to carry four more guns than the _Thisbe_, and to be
apparently considerably larger, her bright, polished sides showing that
she had not been long out of harbour.

When a ship goes into action, sail is generally shortened, but Captain
Martin kept all the _Thisbe's_ set, and stood on, bearing down directly
for the enemy.

Jack had been sent to join the other boys, who were employed in bringing
up the powder as required from the magazine, but the first lieutenant
directed Bill to remain near him.

Jack took his seat as a matter of course on his tub, and, as it
happened, next to Tom.

"How are you feeling?" asked Tom, who looked rather pale.

"Much as I generally do, only I am rather peckish," answered Jack.  "I
wish we had had time for breakfast before thrashing the mounseers, but I
hope that won't take us very long."

"I hope not," said Tom; "only they say that the French ship is the
bigger of the two."

"What's the odds of that, provided we can work our guns twice as fast as
they can?" observed Jack; "that's the way we licked the Frenchmen
before, and, of course, we shall lick them again; but I say, Tom, what
makes you look so melancholy?"

"Do I?  Well, if you want to know, I was thinking of home, and wishing I
had not run off to sea.  I've had a miserable life of it since I came on
board this frigate.  It was my own fault that I did not go back when I
was last on shore.  I had the chance, but was ashamed to show my face."

"There's no use thinking about that sort of thing now," said Jack.  "We
shall be fighting the Frenchmen in a few minutes, and the round and
grape shot and bullets will be flying about our ears."

"That's what I don't quite like the thoughts of," replied Tom.  "I hope
neither you nor I will be hit, Jack."

"Of course not," said Jack; "it wouldn't be pleasant, though we must do
our duty, and trust to chance, or rather trust in Providence, like the
rest."

"I don't envy Bill up on deck there," remarked Tom.  "I wonder what the
first lieutenant wants with him."

"Perhaps he intends to turn him into a midshipman," suggested Jack.

"Into a midshipman! a London street boy, who scarcely knows who his
father was," ejaculated Tom.  "I should think he would have made me one
before him."

"The first lieutenant doesn't care a rap what he or his father was.  He
remembers only the way Bill saved the ship from being taken by the
American skipper, and he seemed highly pleased at our having escaped
from France.  I tell you I shouldn't be at all surprised if Bill is
placed on the quarter-deck," said Jack.

Tom gave a grunt of dissatisfaction.  The conversation had a good
effect, as far as he was concerned, as it made him forget the fears he
had entertained about his personal safety.

In the meantime Bill remained on deck watching what was going forward.
He heard Captain Martin tell the first lieutenant that he intended to
engage the enemy to leeward, in order to prevent her escape; but as the
_Thisbe_ approached the French ship, the latter, suspecting his
intention, so as to frustrate it, wore round on the starboard tack.

After much skilful seamanship on both sides, Captain Martin, finding
that he could not succeed, ranged up to windward of the enemy within
pistol shot, both ships being on the larboard tack, two or three points
off the wind.

They now simultaneously opened their broadsides, the shot of the
_Thisbe_ telling with considerable effect, while not a few of those of
the enemy came on board in return, cutting up her rigging, and laying
low three or four of her men.

The French ship now passed under the stern of the _Thisbe_, firing her
larboard broadside with great precision.  A second time she attempted to
repeat the manoeuvre, but the crew of the _Thisbe_, having quickly rove
new braces, her sails were thrown aback, and gathering sternway, her
starboard quarter took the larboard bow of the French frigate.

The French on this made several attempts to board, but the marines, who
were drawn up on deck, opened so warm a fire that they were driven back
with considerable loss.

The _Thisbe_ had now her enemy fast to her quarter.  In order to keep
her there, Captain Martin and some of his crew endeavoured to lash her
bowsprit to his mizenmast; while others were engaged in bringing a gun
to bear, out of a port which the carpenters quickly cut through the
stern windows and quarter gallery.

While they were thus engaged, the enemy kept up a hot fire on them,
several men being killed and wounded; but the gun was at length brought
into position.

"Now fire, my lads!" cried the second lieutenant, who was superintending
the operation.

After the first, discharge, no sooner had the smoke cleared away, than
full twenty Frenchmen were seen stretched on the deck.

Bill had been standing near the first lieutenant.  A marine had just
loaded his musket, but was knocked over before he had time to fire it.
Bill at that moment saw a French seaman run along the bowsprit with a
musket in his hand.  Bill, springing forward, seized that of the marine,
and, as he did so, he observed the Frenchman taking aim at the head of
Mr Saltwell, whose eyes were turned in a different direction.

There was not a moment for deliberation.  Without ceremony pushing the
lieutenant aside, he fired at the Frenchman, who, as he did so,
discharged his musket, but immediately fell overboard, the ball tearing
away the rim of Mr Saltwell's hat, but without hurting him.

The first lieutenant, turning round, perceived the way by which his life
had been saved.

"Thank you, my lad," he said, "I see how you did it, and I'll not forget
the service you have rendered me."

There was no time just then for saying more, for a party of Frenchmen
were attempting to fire a carronade on their forecastle.  Before they
could succeed, the marines had picked off the greater number.  Others
took their places, but every man of them was treated in the same manner.
At last the attempt to fire the gun was abandoned.

The French ship now getting a breeze, began to forge ahead.  This
enabled the _Thisbe's_ crew to bring their aftermost gun on the
starboard side to bear, the first discharge from which cut away the
gammoning of the French frigate's bowsprit.

The two ships now separated, but were soon again abreast of each other
exchanging broadsides; but so rapidly did the English crew work their
guns that they managed to fire three to the Frenchman's two.

A loud cheer burst from their throats as they saw the enemy's
maintopmast go over the side.  The _Thisbe_ now forged ahead clear of
her adversary, and the breeze dying away, the firing ceased on both
sides.  Still the Frenchmen kept their colours flying.

The English crew were busily employed in knotting and splicing the
rigging which had been cut away, and repairing other damages.

"I hope they've had enough of it, and that the fighting is over,"
exclaimed Tom.

"Not so sure of that," said Jack.  "The French take a good deal of
drubbing, and don't always know when they are beaten."

Tom felt, at all events, that he had had enough of it, as he looked
along the deck and saw numbers of the men who had been slightly hurt
binding up each other's wounds.  Several lay stiff and stark, whose
bodies were dragged on one side, while not a few, severely hurt, had
been carried below to the cockpit, where the surgeon and his mates had
ample employment.

Among the killed was the second lieutenant, a master's mate, and two
young midshipmen; altogether of the two hundred and fifty men who that
morning were in health and strength, forty were either killed outright
or were severely wounded.

Just then, however, the survivors were too much occupied to think about
the matter; every man and boy was wanted to get the ship to rights, and
all were eagerly looking out for a breeze that they might again attack
the enemy.  Bill was as eager as any one for the fight.  He felt that he
was somebody, as he could not help reflecting that he had done good
service in saving the life of the first lieutenant, though he did not
exactly expect any reward in consequence.  It seemed to him that he had
grown suddenly from a powder monkey into a man.  Still the calm
continued, and the two ships lay with their sails against the masts, the
water shining like a polished mirror.

The calm was to the advantage of the French, who had thus longer time to
repair their damages.  The English were soon ready to renew the action.

What, however, might not happen in the meantime?

Both the captain and Mr Saltwell thought it possible that the French
squadron might be to the eastward, and should the firing have been
heard, and a breeze spring up from that direction, which it was very
likely to do, the Frenchmen in overwhelming force might be down upon
them.

The captain walked the deck, looking anxiously out in every direction
for signs of a breeze.  Occasionally reports were brought to him of the
way the wounded men were getting on.  The surgeons had as much work as
they could get through, cutting off arms and legs, setting broken limbs,
and binding up flesh wounds.  Such are the horrors of war!  How many
might be added ere long to the number of the killed and wounded!

It was nearly noon when the captain exclaimed, "Here comes a breeze!
Trim sails, my lads!"  The men flew to the braces.  The canvas blew out,
and the frigate began slowly to move towards her antagonist.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE "THISBE" VICTORIOUS--AN ENEMY'S SQUADRON HEAVES IN SIGHT.

The crew of the _Thisbe_ stood at their guns, ready to open fire at the
word of command.  Several who had, at the commencement of the action,
been among them, were missing; and though the survivors mourned their
loss, that was not the time either to think or talk about them.  Not a
word, indeed, was spoken fore and aft; not even the usual jokes passed
between the men.  The Frenchman showed no inclination to avoid the
combat.  He could not have got away even had he wished, for his
foretopmast was gone, and he had not fully repaired the other damages he
had received aloft.

Nearer and nearer the _Thisbe_ drew to the enemy, still the looked-for
word of command did not come.  The captain resolved to wait till he got
close up to her.  The French, also, for some time refrained from firing,
though the _Thisbe_ was within range of their guns.  They were the first
to lose patience, or perhaps they thought that they could knock away the
spars and rigging of their antagonist, and thus be able to make their
escape.

The _Thisbe_, however, was coming up on their larboard quarter.  Their
guns which they could bring to bear were trained high for the purpose
mentioned.  The shot came whistling about her masts and rigging; but
though some of her sails were shot through, and a few ropes cut away, no
material damage was received.  The breeze at that instant freshened, and
the _Thisbe_ glided rapidly on.

"Give it them, my lads!" cried the captain, as the helm being put to
starboard the whole of the _Thisbe's_ broadside was brought to bear with
terrible effect on the enemy.

The Frenchman again fired.  The _Thisbe's_ guns were quickly run in and
reloaded.  The breeze at that instant blew aside the smoke, and as it
did so the enemy's foremast was seen to fall with a crash overboard.

Loud cheers rang forth from the decks of the _Thisbe_.  Again her
broadside was fired, but no return came.  The next instant, through the
smoke, the Frenchman's ensign was seen in the act of being lowered, just
in time to save them from another broadside.

The British crew had cheered lustily when they saw the foremast fall.
They now redoubled their shouts, turning round and shaking each other
heartily by the hand; some throwing up their caps, and others, mostly
the Irishmen of the crew, leaping and dancing with delight.

Two of the _Thisbe's_ boats being uninjured, they were lowered; and the
third lieutenant, with a master's mate and a party of seamen, was sent
on board to take possession of the prize.

As they were about to shove off, Mr Saltwell inquired whether any one
could speak French.

"I can, sir," said Bill, touching his hat.

"Then go and assist Mr Sterling; you will be of much use," said the
first lieutenant.

Bill, who had been longing to visit the prize, obeyed with no small
satisfaction.

As they reached her deck, an officer advanced with his sword in his
hand, and presented it to Mr Sterling, who, receiving it, handed it to
Bill.

The French officer announced that he was the second lieutenant of the
_Diana_ frigate, which it was his misfortune now to yield into the
possession of her British conquerors.

Mr Sterling bowed in return.

"Tell him, Rayner," he said, "that we acknowledge how bravely he and his
countrymen have fought their ship, and that though they have lost her,
they have not lost their honour."

The French lieutenant looked highly gratified at this remark when Bill
interpreted it, and desired him to express his obligation to the English
lieutenant.

The captain and first lieutenant had been killed, as were no less than
thirty of the crew, including other officers, while fifty were wounded.

The deck, indeed, presented a dreadful scene--strewed in every direction
with corpses, while many poor fellows were so fearfully injured that
their shipmates had been unwilling to move them.

The other officers presented their swords, while the seamen unbuckled
their cutlasses, and the marines piled their arms.  Many wry faces were
made, though most of the Frenchmen merely shrugged their shoulders,
observing that what had happened to them was the fortune of war.  Bill
made himself very useful in communicating with the French officers and
crew.

One of the _Diana's_ boats had escaped injury, and she, being lowered,
assisted the other boats in carrying the prisoners on board the
_Thisbe_.  They far outnumbered the English, and much vigilance was
required to keep them in order.

The prize crew sent on board the _Diana_ set to work, under the command
of Mr Sterling, to stop the shot-holes in her sides, and to repair her
other more serious damages.  A jury-mast was rigged forward, to supply
the place of the foremast carried away.  In the meantime, a hawser being
conveyed on board the _Thisbe_, the prize was taken in tow, and sail was
made for Plymouth.

It was of the greatest importance to get away from the French coast
without delay, for a northerly wind might spring up and drive the two
ships upon it; or if, as Captain Martin suspected, a French squadron was
in the neighbourhood, the sound of the firing might have reached them,
and they would very probably come up to ascertain what had taken place,
when the prize would be recaptured, and the _Thisbe_ herself might find
it very difficult to escape.

Everybody on board had, therefore, ample work to do; besides which the
prisoners in both ships had to be watched.  Several had been allowed to
remain on board the prize to assist the surgeons in attending to the
wounded men.  An eye had also to be kept on them.

Mr Saltwell sent for Bill, who had returned to the _Thisbe_.

"I remember well how you behaved on board the _Foxhound_, and I want you
to keep a watch on the prisoners, and let me know if you hear or see
anything suspicious.  They will probably remain quiet enough, as they
must know that they would have very little chance of success should they
attempt to rise upon us.  At the same time it is better to be on the
safe side, and not to trust them too much."

"They have heard me talking French to the officers, and will be careful
what they say when they see me near them," answered Bill; "but there's
my messmate, Jack Peek, who was in France with me, and knows their
`lingo' as well as I do; and as they have not heard him talking, they'll
not suspect him; and if you will allow me, sir, I will tell him to go
among them, and he'll soon find out if they have any thoughts of
mischief."

Mr Saltwell approved of Bill's proposal, and gave him leave to employ
Jack as he suggested.

Bill, going below, soon found out his messmate.

Jack was well pleased at the confidence placed in him, and promised to
keep his eyes and ears well open.

There was no time for conversation just then, for every man in the ship
was busy, and the boys were wanted to assist them.

The frigate and her prize had made some way to the northward before
night came on.  A bright look-out was kept for any enemy which might
heave in sight; but when darkness gradually stole over the ocean, none
had appeared.

During that night none of the English officers or men turned in.  The
most tired snatched a few moments of sleep at intervals as best they
could when off watch.

The Frenchmen were allowed to lie down on deck between the guns, with
sentries placed over them.  It was very evident that, had they chosen to
rise, they might have overpowered the sentries at the cost of a few of
their own lives.  Fortunately none of them liked to run the risk of
being shot, and remained quiet.

The wind was light, and the _Thisbe_ and her prize made but slow
progress.

The captain anxiously waited the return of morning.

At early dawn look-outs were sent aloft to ascertain if any vessels were
in sight.  They reported three to the south-east, and one to the
westward; but what they were it was impossible at that distance to say,
as their loftier sails could but indistinctly be seen rising above the
horizon.

The _Thisbe_ had already as much sail set as she could carry, but
Lieutenant Sterling was making an effort to get up a maintopmast on
board the prize.

When Jack and Bill met at breakfast, Jack reported that he had been
frequently among the prisoners, but had failed to hear anything which
showed that they had the slightest thoughts of attempting to regain
their liberty.

"What would you know about the matter even if they had been talking
treason?" observed Tom.  "I doubt if either of you fellows know much
about French."

"As to that," said Bill, "we managed to talk to Frenchmen, and to
understand what they said to us.  That, at least, shows that we do know
something about French; not that I wish to boast, only I think I should
do much better if I could get hold of some French books."

Tom laughed.  "Oh!  I dare say you are going to become a great scholar,
and to beat us all," he observed, with a sneer.  "Jack was even
declaring that you were likely to be placed on the quarter-deck.  That
would be a good joke."

"It would be a good reality for me, though I don't think it's what is
very likely to happen," answered Bill, without getting at all angry.

"Nor do I," said Tom, in the same tone as before.  "Just fancy a chap
like you turned into an officer.  You can jabber a few words of French,
and may have picked up a smattering of navigation on board the
_Foxhound_, though I've a notion you must pretty well have forgotten all
you knew by this time, and you may be fond of books, but all that won't
turn a fellow who has come out of the gutter, as one may say, into a
gentleman, as I suppose those on the quarter-deck call themselves."

"And what do you call them?" exclaimed Jack, not liking to hear such
remarks made to Bill.  "I wonder you dare to speak in that way."

"I call myself the son of a gentleman, and I'm thinking when I get into
port of writing to my father and asking him to have me placed on the
quarter-deck."

"I wonder you didn't do that before you ran away from home," said Jack.
"They'll have forgotten all about you by this time, and maybe, if you do
manage to write a letter, your father won't believe that it comes from
you."

"Let him alone, Jack," said Bill; "I don't mind what he says about me.
If his father gets him made a midshipman, I shall be as glad as any
one."

"Thank you," said Tom; "I flatter myself I shall know how to strut about
the quarter-deck and order the men here and there as well as the rest of
them."

Just then a voice was heard shouting, "Tom Fletcher, the cook wants you
in the galley.  Be smart, now, you've been long enough at breakfast."

Tom, bolting his last piece of biscuit, hurried away, as he had no fancy
for the rope's-ending which would have been bestowed upon him had he
delayed obeying the summons.

The mess-tins were stowed away, and the watch hastened on deck.  The
wind by this time had somewhat freshened, and the frigate and her prize
were making better progress than before.  The strangers, however, which
had appeared in sight in the morning were considerably nearer.  A fourth
was now seen beyond the three which had been made out to the eastward.
The ship to the westward which was considerably farther off than the
others, was evidently a large vessel, and the captain declared his
belief that she was a line-of-battle ship, but whether English or
French, it was impossible to decide.  He hoped, as did everybody on
board, that she was English, for should she prove to be French, as
undoubtedly were the vessels to the eastward, the _Thisbe_ would lose
her hard-won prize, even though she might manage to escape herself.
Still, Captain Martin was not a man to give up hope while there was a
chance of escape.

The _Thisbe_, followed by her prize, kept on her course with every
stitch of canvas she could carry set.

"I'm afraid if we don't outrun those fellows there, we shall get boxed
up again by the Frenchmen," observed Jack, pointing to the approaching
ships.

"If we do we must manage to get out somehow or other, as we did before,"
answered Bill; "but even if they do come up with us, that's no reason
why we should be taken.  We must try and beat them off, and the captain
and Mr Saltwell are the men to do it.  They are only four to our two
ships, for the lieutenant in charge of the prize will fight his guns as
well as we do ours."

"But what do you say to that big ship coming up Channel out there?"
asked Tom.  "We shall be made mincemeat of if she gets up to us, for I
heard the boatswain's mate say that she's a seventy-four at least, and
may be an eighty-gun ship, or still larger."

"She hasn't come up with us yet," answered Bill.  "We shall have time to
beat off the others and stand away to the northward before she gets us
within range of her guns.  Perhaps, too, the wind will shift to the
eastward, and throw her to leeward.  We shall then be well in with
Plymouth by the time she can manage to beat up to us.  We are not going
to give in while the tight little frigate keeps above water."

Bill expressed the sentiments of most of the crew.  Still, the odds were
greatly against the _Thisbe_ and _Diana_.  The latter had but forty
hands on board to work the guns and manage the sails, while the crew of
the _Thisbe_ was thus far diminished, besides which they had to look
after their prisoners.

The two leading ships of the enemy had been made out to be frigates, as
it was thought probable were their consorts astern; and even though they
might fail to capture the _Thisbe_, they might knock away her masts and
spars, and so maul her that she would be compelled to succumb to the
line-of-battle ship coming up from the westward.

Not, however, by his manner, or anything he said, did the captain show
the least apprehension of such a result.  The crew were at their
stations, ready to shorten sail should the breeze freshening render it
necessary.  The men joked and laughed as usual, as ready for action as
if they were only expecting one opponent of equal size.

The morning wore on, the hands were piped down to dinner, the prospect
of hot work not at all damping their appetites, though perhaps they got
through their meal rather faster than was their wont; when they again
hurried on deck to see how things were going on.  The two French
frigates were approaching.  The headmost in a short time fired a
bowchaser, but the shot fell short.  It served, however, as a signal to
prepare for action.  Once more the guns were cast loose, and their crews
stood ready to fire as soon as they received the looked-for word of
command.

A few of the French prisoners who had been allowed to remain on deck
were now ordered below.  They went willingly enough, exhibiting in their
countenances the satisfaction they felt at the expectation of being soon
restored to liberty.  They were, of course, narrowly watched, and well
knew that they would be pretty severely dealt with should they show any
signs of insubordination.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE "THISBE'S" NARROW ESCAPE--TOM HOPES TO BE MADE A MIDSHIPMAN.

Half an hour or more passed, when again the leading French frigate
fired, the shot falling close to the counter of the _Diana_, which by
this time, having got up a fresh maintopmast, was able to make more
sail.

Captain Martin now ordered Lieutenant Sterling to cast off the tow rope
and to stand on ahead of him, while, to allow the _Diana_ to do so, he
clewed up the _Thisbe's_ topsails.

"Make the best of your way to Plymouth," he shouted, as the _Diana_
passed the _Thisbe_; "we'll keep these two fellows in play, and shall, I
hope, be soon after you."

As soon as the prize had got some distance ahead, Captain Martin, who
had been watching the two frigates coming up on the starboard quarter,
ordered the _Thisbe's_ helm to be put to port; at the same moment, her
starboard broadside being fired, the shot raked the two Frenchmen fore
and aft.  The helm was then immediately put over, and the frigate coming
up on the other tack, her larboard broadside was poured into her
antagonists.  The shot told with considerable effect.  The foretopmast
of the leading frigate was shot away, and the mizenmast of the one
following was seen to go by the board.  This, however, did not much
alter their rate of sailing, as, the wind being aft, all the canvas they
required continued set.  They also opened their fire, and their shot
came crashing on board the _Thisbe_, killing and wounding two or three
men, but not doing any material damage to her spars or rigging.  She
having shortened sail, her antagonists were compelled to do the same;
and while they poured their broadsides into her, she returned them as
rapidly as the crew could run the guns in and out.

Captain Martin's great object was to keep them engaged, and, if
possible, to knock away their masts, so as to enable the _Diana_ to
escape, for although he might hope to get off himself, he could not
expect to capture either of the enemy's ships.

The _Thisbe_ had been several times hulled, and her sails were already
completely riddled, while many more of her crew had fallen.

"It is going hard with us, I fear," said Jack to Tom, who was seated
next him on his powder tub.  "There's well-nigh a score of poor fellows
killed or wounded within the last half-hour.  It may be the lot of one
of us before long."

"Oh, dear!  I hope not," cried Tom.  "I wish the skipper would try and
get away instead of fighting the Frenchmen.  Two to one is fearful odds
against us, and we shall have the two other ships blazing away at our
heads before long."

"We haven't much to fear from them," said Jack.  "I have just heard
they're corvettes, and they won't be up to us until we've given the
other two a drubbing, and have made sail again to the northward."

The two corvettes were, however, likely to prove no despicable
opponents, and Captain Martin was only watching until he had knocked
away the masts or spars of one or both of the frigates, to make sail and
escape, for it would have been madness to have continued the fight
longer than was necessary to accomplish that object.

The Frenchmen, however, fought bravely, and evidently did not intend to
let him get off if they could help it.  Each had just fired another
broadside into the _Thisbe_, when they were seen to haul their wind, the
two ships coming up astern doing the same.  The reason of this was
evident: the line-of-battle ship to the westward, now approaching under
a pressure of sail, had hoisted British colours, and any longer delay
would have enabled her quickly to capture one or both of them.  The
brave crew of the _Thisbe_ expressed their satisfaction by giving a loud
cheer, which was joined in even by many of the wounded.

Captain Martin had accomplished his object; he had secured the safety of
his prize, and his crew, now swarming aloft, set to work rapidly to knot
and splice the rigging which had been shot away.

As soon as this had been accomplished sufficiently to make sail, the
_Thisbe_, brought to the wind, stood after the flying enemy, firing her
bow chasers as she did so; but it was soon seen that she had little
chance of coming up with them.  Still her captain persevered; but, with
both masts and spars wounded, it was impossible to carry as much sail as
would otherwise have been done.  Consequently, before long the
line-of-battle ship, which made the signal _Terrible_, seventy-four,
overtook her.

A cheer rose from the deck of the big ship, which came gliding slowly
by.  Her captain hailed, "Well done, Martin!"

The pursuit was continued for some time, but night was approaching, and
the coast of France was not far off.  The seventy-four therefore threw
out the signal to bear up and a course was shaped for Plymouth.

A sharp look-out was kept during the night for the _Diana_.  Soon after
sunrise she was seen steering for Plymouth, into which harbour Captain
Martin and his gallant crew had the satisfaction of conducting her the
following day.  Although it was a day of triumph to the surviving crew,
it was one of mourning to many who had lost relatives and friends.  The
dead were carried on shore to be buried, the wounded conveyed to
hospitals, the Frenchmen were landed and marched off under an escort of
marines to the prisons prepared for them, and press-gangs were soon busy
at work to obtain fresh hands to supply the places of those who had
fallen, although many prime seamen volunteered to serve on board a
frigate which had already won a name for herself.

Tom Fletcher, as soon as the ship got into harbour, managed to procure a
pen and some ink and paper, and indited a letter to his father.  It was
not over-well written, but he contrived to make it pretty clearly
express that he was serving on board H.M.S.  _Thisbe_, and that having
already seen a great deal of service, he felt sure that if his father
would apply to the Admiralty and make him an allowance of thirty or
forty pounds a year, he should be placed on the quarter-deck, and in due
course of time become an admiral.

"We are sure to make lots of prize-money," he added; "and if I were a
midshipman now, I should be receiving a hundred pounds or more, so that
you may be sure, father, that I will pay it all back with interest."

"Father likes interest," he observed to Bill, who was sitting by him at
the time, and helping him in his somewhat unaccustomed task; "that'll
make him more ready to do what I want, though whether he'll ever get the
money is neither here nor there."

"But if you promise to pay him, you are bound to do so," observed Bill.
"You need not have made the promise, then you could have waited to know
whether he required interest."

"Well, I've written it, and can't scratch it out now," said Tom.  "It
will come to the same thing in the end."

Bill had some doubts whether Tom's father would make the allowance Tom
asked for; but if he were a rich man, as Tom asserted, he might do so,
and therefore he said nothing.

The letter, after being folded several times and creased all over, was
at length closed, sealed, and addressed, by which time it had assumed a
somewhat grimy appearance.  Tom got the cook's mate, who was going on
shore, to post his letter, having told him that he expected to receive a
good sum of money by return, and promising him a part of the proceeds.
Bill and Jack looked forward to the reply with almost as much interest
as Tom himself, neither of them feeling that they should be at all
jealous, should it produce the satisfactory result he anticipated.

Meantime, every possible exertion was made to get the ship ready for
sea.  Mr Saltwell was very busy superintending all the operations.
Bill, however, found that he was not forgotten, from a kind word or two
which on several occasions the first lieutenant bestowed upon him.  As
Tom was not aware of this, he amused himself by telling Bill that Mr
Saltwell would not trouble himself more about him--that he must be
content to remain a powder monkey until he got big enough to be rated as
an ordinary seaman.

"Better than being cook's boy," cried Jack, who could never stand
hearing Bill sneered at.  "He's a precious deal more likely to be made a
midshipman than you are, even though your father is a rich man and rides
in his carriage, as you say."

Tom retorted, and Jack looked as if he was much inclined to knock him
over, when the quarrel was cut short by the appearance of the cook's
mate, who dragged off Tom to help him clean the galley and scrub the
pots and pans.

Day after day went by.  The frigate was reported ready for sea, and her
complement of men having been filled up, she only waited for her captain
to come on board to continue her cruise.

Still Tom had received no reply from his father.  "Perhaps he or the
Admiralty may have written to the captain, and when he comes aboard I
shall be placed in my proper position," he observed in confidence to
Bill.

"I hope so, but I'm afraid there will be but little time for you to get
a proper uniform and an outfit," was the answer.

"I'm not much afraid of that; the tailors won't take long in rigging me
out," answered Tom.

Soon after this the captain came on board, and Tom, greatly to his
disappointment, was not sent for.  Just, however, as the ship was going
out into the Sound, the mail-bag arrived, and a letter addressed,
"Thomas Fletcher, H.M.S.  _Thisbe_," was handed him.  He eagerly broke
the seal.  As he was no great hand at reading writing, he was obliged to
ask Bill to assist him in deciphering the contents.  He had, however, to
rub his eyes several times before he could make them out, even with his
messmate's help.

"It's not from father at all," he observed, after looking at the paper
all over.  "S.  Fletcher must be my biggest brother, and he always gave
me more kicks than ha'pence."

The letter began:--

"Dear Tom,--Our father received yours of the third instant, as the first
intimation of your being alive since your unaccountable disappearance.
You have caused us by your wicked proceeding no end of grief and
trouble, and, as far as we can make out by your wretchedly written
epistle, you do not seem to be at all ashamed of yourself, or sorry for
what you have done; and our father bids me to say, that as you have made
your bed, you must lie in it.  As to making you an allowance of thirty
or forty pounds a year, and getting you placed on the quarter-deck, the
notion is too ridiculous to be entertained.  I must tell you, too, our
father has failed, smashed up completely, won't pay sixpence in the
pound.  As we find it a hard matter to live, he is not likely to make
you an allowance of thirty pounds, or thirty pence a year, or to trouble
himself by going to the Admiralty with the certainty of being sent away
with a flea in his ear; so you see, Tom, you must just grin and bear it.
If you don't get killed, I would advise you--should you ever wish to
come home--to make your appearance with your pockets full of the
prize-money you talk of, and you will then perhaps receive a welcome,
and be well entertained as long as it lasts by the rest of the family,
as also by--

"Your affectionate brother--

"S.  Fletcher.

"P.S.  Until then I would advise you not to show your nose in this
neighbourhood."

"He always was an ill-natured fellow, was my brother Sam," exclaimed
Tom, not seeming concerned at the news of his father's ruin, while,
crumpling up the letter, he thrust it into his pocket.  "I feel inclined
to hang myself or jump overboard."

"Don't think of doing anything so bad," said Bill.  "You are no worse
off than you were before.  All you've got to do is to attend to your
duty, and try to please those above you."

"The cook and the cook's mate," growled poor Tom.  "It isn't a pleasant
task to have to scrub saucepans and clean out the galley."

"But it is your duty, and while you have to do it it would be best to
try and do it as well as you can," observed Bill.  "Neither the cook nor
the cook's mate are bad fellows, and you will gain their good-will by
showing a pleasant temper, and working as hard as you can."

"All very well for you to preach," said Tom; "but there's no help for
it, I suppose, and so I must make the best of my hard lot."

"That's just what I'm advising," said Bill; though he did not add, "You
must remember you brought it upon yourself by running away from home."

The boatswain's pipe summoned all hands on deck to make sail, and the
frigate, standing down the Sound, at once put to sea.

A bright look-out was kept for enemies; all hands, from the captain
downwards, being eager to secure another prize, even though they might
have to fight a tough battle to win her.  The captain's orders were to
capture, sink, burn, destroy, or drive on shore any of the enemy's
vessels he could come up with.  With this object in view the _Thisbe_
continued to cruise, now down the Channel, now up again, keeping as much
as possible in sight of the French coast.  She had been some time at
sea, however, without having made any prizes; for although she had
chased several vessels, they, having espied her in time, had managed to
escape by running close in shore, under strong batteries, or getting up
harbours where they could not be followed.  At last one morning, as the
frigate had just made the land, from which she had been standing off
during the night, a sail was seen inside of her--that is, between her
and the French coast, steering to the eastward, apparently bound down
Channel.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A CUTTING-OUT EXPEDITION--BILL DISCOVERS AN OLD FRIEND.

The wind being very light, every stitch of canvas the _Thisbe_ could
carry was packed on her, and her course altered so as to cut off the
stranger.  As the sun rose, and its beams lighted up the white canvas of
the latter, she was pronounced to be a full-rigged ship, either a
man-of-war or privateer, or a large merchantman, but at the distance she
was off it was difficult to determine whether she was a frigate or a
flush-decked vessel.  Captain Martin hoped that she would prove to be a
frigate, and an antagonist worthy of engaging.  She must have seen the
_Thisbe_ approaching, but either took her for a friend or believed that
she was well able to cope with her, as she did not alter her course.
Captain Martin calculated that the _Thisbe_ would be up with the
stranger before noon.  Every telescope on board was directed towards
her.  Bill wished that he had one, that he might form an opinion as to
what she was.  He heard some officers talking, and they declared that
she was undoubtedly French, and was either a large man-of-war corvette,
or a privateer.  If such were the case, and the _Thisbe_ could get up to
her, she would be captured to a certainty, though she would probably
fight, and try to knock away some of the _Thisbe's_ spars, so as to
effect her escape.  The wind, which had hitherto been blowing from the
southward and south, suddenly shifted to the east.  As soon as the
stranger felt it, she was seen to haul her tacks on board, brace up her
yards, and stand away towards the land.

"She's going to run on shore," exclaimed Jack, who had been watching her
as eagerly as any one, when his duty would allow him to take a look-out.

"More likely she knows of a harbour or battery in there, and is running
in for shelter," answered Bill.

"We shan't be able to take her then," said Jack.  "I was making sure we
should have her as our prize."

"I won't say we shan't take her, notwithstanding," observed Bill.
"Perhaps we shall fight the battery and her too, if she brings up under
one.  Or if she runs into a harbour, the boats may be sent in after her
to bring her out."

As soon as the stranger was seen standing to the southward, the _Thisbe_
also hauled up to continue the pursuit, but the chase was still beyond
the reach of her guns.

"We shan't catch her after all," said Jack, who had taken another look
at the stranger some time after she had altered her course.

"I don't see that we have not still a chance of coming up with her,"
answered Bill.  "The captain thinks so, or he would not be keeping after
her.  Perhaps she may be becalmed closer in with the land, or we may
draw near enough to knock away her masts.  We have gained a mile on her
during the last hour.  I would always try to succeed while a single
chance remains, and I would never knock under to an enemy while I had a
stick standing, or a plank beneath my feet."

Still, notwithstanding Bill's sanguine hopes of success, as the day wore
on there seemed every probability that the French ship would make good
her escape.  It was now seen that she was steering for a harbour, the
mouth of which could be distinguished from the deck of the _Thisbe_,
with a battery on one side.

"Our bow chasers will reach her, Mr Saltwell," cried the captain, at
length.

The order to fire was eagerly obeyed.  The frigate, however, had to yaw
for the purpose.  One of the shot was seen to go right through the sails
of the chase, but the other fell on one side.

The guns were quickly reloaded, and were fired immediately the ship was
kept away sufficiently for the purpose.  Again one of the shot took
effect, but what damage was done it was impossible to say, and the chase
stood on as before.

The manoeuvre was repeated several times, causing the frigate to lose
ground; but a fortunate shot would have enabled her quickly to regain
it.  Though several of the _Thisbe's_ shot took effect, the chase
continued her course, firing in return from a gun run out astern; but
none of the shot struck her pursuer.  At last, however, the chase ran
past the battery, which shortly afterwards opened fire.  Captain Martin
returned it with such effect that two of the guns were silenced, when
the frigate's head was put off shore, and she stood away to avoid the
risk of being becalmed should the wind fall, as was very likely, towards
evening.

"I say, Bill, I really believe that's the very place we got away from on
our raft," said Jack.

"No doubt about it," answered Bill.  "I remember the look of the land to
the eastward, and I feel pretty sure I could find my way up the
harbour."

Bill had scarcely said this when he heard his name called, and he was
told to go to the first lieutenant.

"Do you recollect anything about the harbour up there?" asked Mr
Saltwell.

"Yes, sir," answered Bill.  "I remember it was the one from which Peek
and I got off, and I was thinking I could make my way up it at night, if
I had to do so."

"You will have an opportunity to-night, I hope, of showing your
knowledge.  The captain intends to send up the boats to try and cut out
the vessel we chased into the harbour.  I am to command the expedition,
and I will take you with me."

"Thank you, sir," said Bill, touching his hat.  "I feel pretty sure that
I know my way up to the landing-place, and I do not suppose that a ship
the size of the chase could get up higher."

"You can go forward now, and be ready to accompany me when you are
summoned," said Mr Saltwell.

Bill felt highly gratified by the confidence placed in him, and was
thankful that he had so thoroughly observed the harbour before he and
Jack had made their escape.  The frigate, meantime, was standing out to
sea, so that by the time the sun went down she could not be perceived
from the shore.  She was then hove-to, and preparations were made for
the intended expedition.

Lieutenant Saltwell went in the barge, the third lieutenant in the
launch, and the lieutenant of marines, with the senior mate, in the
cutter, the oars of all the boats being muffled, so that no sound would
betray their approach to the enemy.

The frigate then again stood in, taking care to show no lights, when in
perfect silence the boats shoved off, carrying among them about fifty
officers and men.  Lieutenant Saltwell called Bill aft to take a seat by
his side.  Before leaving the frigate, the captain had directed the
first lieutenant to return should he find the ship so moored as to
render it impossible to bring her out.  Bill, however, told him that he
had observed a vessel at anchor some way below the landing-place, and
that he supposed no large craft could get up higher on account of the
shallowness of the water.  The wind, which had hitherto been east and
north-east, again shifting to the southward, blew directly down the
harbour, which would enable the ship, should she be captured, to be
brought down without difficulty.

Bill's heart beat quicker than usual as he thought of the work in hand,
and recollected that the success of the undertaking might considerably
depend upon him.  The night was very dark, but as the boats got up to
the mouth of the harbour the lights on shore could be distinguished, as
well as several on board vessels at anchor.  The boats kept clear of the
latter, lest any of their people might discover them and give the alarm.
The barge led, the launch and cutter following in succession.  The
success of the undertaking would depend on their being able to take the
enemy by surprise.

As yet no signs had been perceived that their approach was discovered,
and Bill advised that they should keep over to the west shore, where
there were no vessels at anchor, but where he was sure there was water
for the boats, from having seen a good-sized craft keeping that course
at low tide.

As they got higher up, the sound of voices came off the shore, as if the
people were laughing and making merry.  This gave Mr Saltwell hopes
that many of the crew were landed, and that those on board would be
totally unprepared for an attack.  He intended to board on the starboard
quarter, and he had given directions to the other officers, one to board
on the larboard quarter and the other at the main chains, his object
being to overpower the resistance the officer's would make aft, then to
sweep the decks until the forecastle was gained.  One of the boats was
immediately to shove ahead and cut the cable, while certain of the men
had been directed to hoist the headsails, so that the prize might,
without an instant's delay, be making her way down the harbour before
any assistance could come off to her from the land.

The moment for action was approaching.  The ship was seen at the spot
where Bill thought she would be found, lying silent and dark, her tall
masts and the tracery of her rigging just to be distinguished against
the sky.  No one was observed moving on her deck.  Eagerly the boats
dashed forward to the posts allotted to them.  The bows of the barge had
just hooked on when the sentry on the gangway, who had evidently not
been attending to his duty, shouted out, and fired his musket.

The rest of the watch came rushing aft, but it was to encounter the crew
of the barge, who, having climbed up her side, had already gained her
deck.  Their officers at the same moment sprang up the companion-hatch,
sword in hand, but were knocked over before they could strike a blow.

The crews of the other boats had, in the meantime, gained the deck, but
not before the rest of the Frenchmen came tumbling up from below armed
with cutlasses and pikes, or such weapons as they could lay their hands
on.  Though they made a bold stand, and endeavoured to defend the fore
part of the ship, they had to retreat before the desperate charge of the
boarders, who, with cutlasses flashing and cutting, soon hewed a way for
themselves to the forecastle, leaving the deck on either side covered
with dead or wounded men.  Not a word had been spoken, and scarcely a
shout uttered, but the clashing of steel and flashing of pistols must
have showed the people on shore what was going forward.

The mate, to whom the duty had been assigned, having in the meantime
carried his boat under the bows, quickly cut the cable, then allowing
her to drift alongside, he sprang on to the forecastle, where he took
charge of the party engaged in making sail.

The third lieutenant, though he was severely wounded, went aft to the
helm, and in less than three minutes from the time the boats got
alongside, the prize, under her foresail and foretopsail, was standing
down the harbour.

Bill, having got hold of a pistol, kept close to Mr Saltwell, that he
might be ready to assist him or obey any orders he might receive.  A few
only of his men were standing round the lieutenant when a party of the
French crew, who had already yielded, led by the boatswain, a big,
sturdy fellow, whose cutlass had already brought two of the English
seamen to the deck, suddenly attacked him, hoping to regain the ship.
The sailors had enough to do to defend themselves, and the big boatswain
was making a desperate blow at the lieutenant's head, when Bill, who
thought it a time to use his pistol with effect, fired, and the
boatswain fell, his cutlass dropping from his hand.  His followers on
this sprang back, and, throwing down their weapons, cried for mercy.

"I saw you do it, my lad," said the lieutenant.  "The second time you
have saved my life.  I'll not forget it."

The English sailors now had work enough to do to prevent the Frenchmen
from rising.  While sail was being made, numerous boats also were seen
coming off from the shore full of armed men, evidently with the
intention of attempting to board the prize.  Sail after sail was let
drop, and the ship ran faster and faster through the water.  She was
not, however, as yet entirely won.  Her crew, though beaten down below,
were still very numerous, and might, should they find the boats of their
friends coming alongside, at any moment rise and try to regain her.  The
fort also had to be passed, and the garrison were sure to have heard the
uproar and would open fire as soon as she got within range of their
guns.

Notwithstanding this, the British seamen performed their various duties
as steadily as if they were on board their own ship.  Some were aloft,
loosing sails; others ran out the guns, ready to give the boats a warm
reception, and others kept an eye on the prisoners.

The breeze freshened, and the prize in a short time reached the mouth of
the harbour.  No sooner had she done so than the guns from the fort, as
had been expected, opened fire, and their shot, thick as hail, came
crashing on board.  Several men were struck, and the sails shot through
and through.  None of the yards, however, were carried away, and the
canvas stood filled out with the breeze.

A number of prisoners had remained on deck, with sentries over them, as
the shot struck the ship.  Several, to avoid it, endeavoured to escape
below.  Some succeeded, not waiting to descend by the ladders, but
leaping down, to the no small risk of breaking their arms and legs.
There was still more sail to be set, and Bill was pulling and hauling,
when he saw a shot come plump in among a party of prisoners.  Three
fell; the rest, in spite of the sentries, making a desperate rush, leapt
down the main hatchway.

Bill at that moment saw a young Frenchman, who had been struck,
struggling on the deck, and a voice crying out which he thought he
recognised.

He sprang towards the sailor, and lifted him up.  He was not mistaken;
it was his friend Pierre.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked in French.

"I'm afraid so, in my side," was the answer.  "My poor mother, and
Jeannette, I shall never see them more."

"I hope that things are not so bad as that," responded Bill.  "I will
try and get you below.  Here!" and he called to one of the prisoners who
had remained on deck, and who, being very glad to get out of the way of
the shot, willingly assisted Bill in dragging the wounded man to the
companion-hatchway, down which the two together lifted him, and placed
him in the gun-room.

Fortunately the French surgeon had been ill in his berth, but had now
got up, prepared to attend to his professional duties.  As yet, however,
none of the wounded prisoners had been brought aft, and Pierre, who had
been placed on the gun-room table, was the first man the surgeon took
under his care.

"He is not badly hurt, I hope," said Bill, rather anxiously.

"That's more than I can say, my young friend," answered the surgeon,
"but I will attend to him.  I shall have patients enough on my hands
directly, I fear."

Bill felt that he ought not to remain a moment longer below, though he
greatly wished to learn how much Pierre had been injured.  All he could
do, therefore, was to press his friend's hand, and spring up again on
deck.

The battery was still firing away at the prize, and every now and then a
crashing sound, as the shot struck her, showed that she was within range
of its guns; but she was rapidly distancing the boats, which could now
only be dimly seen astern.

The British crew raised a cheer when they found that they had to a
certainty secured their prize.  Still the battery continued firing, but
not another shot struck her, and at length the dim outline of the
_Thisbe_ was seen ahead.  Shortly afterwards the prize, rounding to
under the frigate's quarter, was received with hearty cheers by her
crew.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE POWDER MONKEY GETS HIS FIRST STEP UP THE RATLINES.

The British wounded, and the French prisoners captured in the prize,
were forthwith taken on board the _Thisbe_, when both ships made sail to
get a good offing from the coast before daylight.  Mr Saltwell remained
in command of the prize with the crew which had so gallantly won her.
The wounded Frenchmen were also allowed to continue on board under
charge of their surgeon, with an English assistant-surgeon to help him,
for there were upwards of forty poor fellows who required his care.

Bill was glad to find that he had not to go back to his own ship, as he
wanted to look after Pierre, and as soon as his duty would allow him he
went below to learn how his young French friend was getting on.  When he
asked for the man whom he had brought down, the doctor pointed to one of
the officer's cabins in the gun-room, observing, "He is somewhat badly
hurt, but there are others still more cruelly knocked about who require
my care, and I have not been able to attend to him for some time."

Bill hurried into the cabin.  A faint voice replied to him.

"_Merci, merci_!  It is very kind of you to come and see me, but I fear
that I shall not get over it," said Pierre.  "Is there no chance of our
returning to France?  I should like to die under my father's roof, and
see my mother and Jeannette once more."

"There's no chance of your getting back for the present, but I hope you
will see your mother and sister notwithstanding," answered Bill.  "We
are running across the Channel, and shall be in an English port in a day
or two, when you will be landed, and I will ask the captain to let me
take care of you.  I should like to prove how grateful I am for all your
kindness to me and Jack Peek, and I will tell Mr Saltwell, the
lieutenant who commands this ship, how you and your family treated me.
But I don't think you ought to talk; I came to see if I could do
anything for you."

"My lips are parched; I am very thirsty; I should like something to
drink," answered Pierre.

"I will see what I can find," said Bill; and making his way to the
steward's pantry outside the captain's cabin, he hunted about until he
discovered some lemons.  He quickly squeezed out the juice of a couple
of them, and mixing it with water, brought the beverage to Pierre, who
drank it eagerly.  It much revived him.

"I was very unfortunate to be on board the _Atlante_ when you captured
her, for I had no wish to fight the English," said Pierre.  "Only ten
days ago I was persuaded to come on board to see a friend, and the crew
would not let me return on shore.  However, I was determined to make the
best of it, hoping before long to get back to my family, and be able to
assist my father.  And now to be cut down by my own countrymen, for it
was a shot from the battery on shore which wounded me.  It is more than
I can bear!"

"Don't think about it," said Bill; "you are safe from further harm, and
will be well taken care of; and when you have recovered, and the war is
over, you will be able to go back.  I must leave you now, but I will
come and see you as often as I can.  I have placed the jug of lemonade
close to your head, where it cannot slip.  When that is gone I will get
some more; it is the best thing you can take at present."

Saying this, Bill hurried back to attend to his duty on deck, for, young
as he was, as the prize was short-handed, he had plenty of work to do.
Several times he passed Mr Saltwell, who gave him a kind look or said a
word or two of encouragement, but did not allude to the service Bill had
done him.

"He probably has forgotten all about my having shot the French
boatswain," thought Bill.  "I only did my duty, and if anybody else had
been in his place I should have done the same."

The frigate and her fresh prize were meantime making the best of their
way across the Channel.  As the latter, a fast sailor, was not
materially injured, all sail was made on her, and she kept good way with
the _Thisbe_.  At the same time there was still the risk of either one
or both being taken by a French ship of superior force, though neither
was likely to yield without making every effort to escape.  A constant
look-out was kept from the mast-head, but as the ships got farther and
farther from the French coast, the hope of escaping without having again
to fight increased.

Several sail were seen in the distance, but it was supposed that they
were either merchantmen, standing up or down Channel, in spite of the
enemy's cruisers on the watch to pick them up, or privateers, and,
seeing that the _Thisbe_ was a frigate, took good care to keep out of
her way.

At length the entrance to Plymouth Sound was descried, and the _Thisbe_
and her prize stood up it triumphantly with colours flying, creating
considerable astonishment at her quick return with another capture.
Both were soon moored in Hamoaze, when the _Atlante_, a fine little
ship, carrying twenty guns on one deck, was handed over to the prize
agents with the full expectation that she would be bought into the
service.  The prisoners were carried on shore, the wounded men were
taken to the hospital, and the prize crew returned on board their own
ship.

Bill had been very anxious to accompany Pierre, that he might watch over
him with more care than strangers could do, but he had had no
opportunity of asking leave of Mr Saltwell.

He had not been long on board the frigate, and was giving an account of
the boarding expedition to Jack and Tom, when he heard his name called
along the decks.

"Boy Rayner, the captain has sent for you into the cabin," said the
master-at-arms.

"What can you be wanted for!" exclaimed Tom.  "Look out for squalls.  I
shouldn't like to be in your shoes."

"No fear of that," said Jack.  "Maybe the first lieutenant has told the
captain how Bill saved his life.  I wish that I had had a chance of
doing something of the sort."

Bill, however, did not stop to hear the remarks of his two friends, but
hurried aft, thinking that now would be the time to say something in
poor Pierre's favour.

The sentry, who knew that he had been sent for, allowed him to pass
without question, and he soon found himself in the presence of the
captain and Mr Saltwell, who were seated at the table in the main
cabin.  Bill stood, hat in hand, ready to answer any questions which
might be put to him.

"William Rayner," said the captain, "you have, I understand, behaved
remarkably well on several occasions, twice especially, by saving Mr
Saltwell's life through your coolness and presence of mind.  You are
also, I find, a fair French scholar, and the first lieutenant reports
favourably of your conduct in your former ship.  I wish to reward you.
Let me know how I can best do so in a way satisfactory to yourself."

"I only did my duty without thinking of being rewarded," answered Bill;
"but I have been wishing since we took the prize that something could be
done for a young Frenchman who was badly hurt on board her by a shot
from the battery which fired at us.  He and his father saved Jack Peek
and me from drowning when we were blown up in the _Foxhound_, and his
family were afterwards very kind to us, and did their utmost to save us
from being carried off to prison, and when we were hid away in a cave,
his sister, at great risk, brought us food.  He will now be amongst
strangers, who do not understand his lingo, and the poor fellow will be
very sad and solitary; so I think he would like it, if I could get leave
to go and stay with him while the frigate remains in harbour.  I'll take
it as a great favour, sir, since you ask me what reward I should like,
if you can let me go and be with him at the hospital, or if that cannot
be, if he may be removed to some lodging where he can be well looked
after until he recovers and is sent back to his own home."

"There may be some difficulty in doing as you propose," replied the
captain.  "Mr Saltwell will, however, I have no doubt, try to make a
satisfactory arrangement, for a person behaving as the young Frenchman
has done deserves to be rewarded; but that is not what I meant; I want
you to choose some reward for yourself, and wish you to let me know how
I can best serve you."

"Thank you, sir," answered Bill.  "I cannot think just now of anything I
require, though I should be very glad if I could get Pierre sent back to
his family."

"Your parents, perhaps, will be able to decide better than you can do,
then.  Your father or mother," observed the captain.

"I have neither father nor mother, sir," answered Bill.  "They are both
dead."

"Your relatives and friends might decide," said the captain.

"I have no relatives or friends, nor any one to care for me that I know
of," said Bill, in a quiet voice.

"Then Mr Saltwell and I must settle the matter," said Captain Martin.
"Should you like to be placed on the quarter-deck?  If you go on as you
have begun, and let duty alone guide you on all occasions, you will, if
you live, rise in the service and be an honour to it."

Bill almost gasped for breath as he heard this.  He knew that the
captain was in earnest, and he looked at him, and then at Mr Saltwell,
but could not speak.

"Come, say what you wish, my lad," said Captain Martin, in an
encouraging tone.

Still Bill was silent.

"You will have opportunities of improving your education, and you need
not fear about being well received by the young gentlemen in the
midshipmen's berth," observed Mr Saltwell.  "Captain Martin and I will
make arrangements for giving you an outfit and supplying you with such
funds as you will require, besides which you will come in for a
midshipman's share of prize-money."

The kind way in which the captain and first lieutenant spoke greatly
assisted Bill to find his tongue and to express himself appropriately.

"I am grateful, sirs, for your offer, and hope that I always shall be
grateful.  If you think that I am fit to become a midshipman, I will try
to do my duty as such, so I accept your offer with all my heart."

Bill, overpowered by his feelings, could say no more.

"The matter is settled, then," said the captain; and sending for the
purser, he at once entered the name of William Rayner as a midshipman on
the ship's books, the only formality requisite in those days, though his
rank would afterwards have to be confirmed at the Admiralty.

The purser observed that he had a suit of clothes belonging to one of
the midshipmen killed in the action with the French frigate, which
would, he thought, exactly fit Mr Rayner.

Bill felt very curious at hearing himself so spoken of.

The purser said that he would debit him with them at a moderate price.

The captain approving of this proposal, Bill, in the course of a few
minutes, found himself dressed in a midshipman's uniform.  He could
scarcely believe his senses.  It seemed to him as if by the power of an
enchanter's wand he had been changed into some one else.

The first lieutenant then desired him to accompany him, and leading the
way down to the berth, in which a number of the young gentlemen were
assembled for dinner, he stopped at the door.

"I wish, young gentlemen, to present a new messmate to you," he said,
looking in.  "Mr William Rayner!  He has gained his position by
exhibiting those qualities which I am sure you all admire, and you will,
I have no doubt, treat him as a friend."

The members of the mess who were present rose and cordially put out
their hands towards Bill, whom the first lieutenant, taking by the aim,
drew into the berth.

Mr Saltwell then returned on deck.

Bill naturally felt very bashful, but his new messmates did their best
to set him at ease, and no one alluded to his former position.  They
spoke only of the late action, and begged him to give a description of
the way in which he had saved Mr Saltwell's life, a vague account of
which they had heard.

Bill complied, modestly, not saying more about himself than was
necessary.  What he said gained him the applause of his new messmates,
and raised him greatly in their estimation; he therefore found himself
far more at his ease than he had expected would be possible; no one by
word or deed showing that they recollected that he had been just before
a ship's boy, but all treated him as an equal.

His only regret now was that he could no longer talk with Jack and Tom
as he had been accustomed to do, though he hoped that he should still be
able, without doing anything derogatory to his new position, to speak to
them in a friendly way.  Thinking highly of Jack as he did, he regretted
more than ever that his former messmate could neither read nor write.
He felt sure that he would, should he have an opportunity, do something
to merit promotion.

Bill commenced his new duties with a spirit and alacrity which was
remarked by his superior officers.  He had narrowly observed the way the
midshipmen conducted themselves, and was thus able to behave as well as
the best of them.  He was a little puzzled at first at dinner, but by
seeing what others did he soon got over the slight difficulty he had to
encounter.

Next day Mr Saltwell called him up as he was walking the quarter-deck.

"I have been making inquiries as to what can be done for your friend
Pierre Turgot," he said.  "As you told me he was not willingly on board
the privateer, I was able to state that in his favour, and I have
obtained leave for him to be removed to a private house, where he can
remain until he has recovered, and he will then, I hope, be allowed to
return to France without waiting for an exchange of prisoners.  Were he
to be sent back with others, he would probably at once be compelled to
serve afloat, and his great desire is, I understand, to return to his
own family, to follow his former occupation of a fisherman."

"Thank you, sir," exclaimed Bill, "I cannot be too grateful to you for
your kindness."

"Don't talk of that, my lad; if it hadn't been for your courage and
coolness I should not have been here.  I am now going on shore, and wish
you to accompany me.  I have seen the widow of an old shipmate of mine
who is willing to receive Pierre into her house, and to attend to him.
We will have him removed at once, so that when we sail you will know he
is placed under good care."



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

WILLIAM RAYNER IS ENABLED TO SHOW HIS GRATITUDE TO PIERRE.

Will at once got ready to attend the first lieutenant.  The boat being
alongside, they were soon on shore.  Their first visit was to the
hospital, which, being overcrowded, the authorities were glad to get rid
of one of their patients.  Pierre was placed in a litter and conveyed,
accompanied by Mr Saltwell and Bill, to the residence of Mrs Crofton,
a neat cottage standing by itself in a small garden.  A pretty little
girl about thirteen years of age opened the door, and on seeing the
strangers summoned her mother, who at once appeared, and led the way to
the room she had prepared for Pierre's reception.  It was on the
ground-floor, and contained a dimity-covered bed, and a few other simple
articles of furniture, quite sufficient for all the young French
sailor's wants.

Pierre again and again thanked Bill for having brought him to so
delightful a place.

"Ah!" he said, "that lady," looking at Mrs Crofton, "reminds me of my
mother, and the little girl is just like Jeannette, when she was
younger.  And they are so kind and gentle!  I shall get well very soon,
though I think I should have died if I had remained at the hospital,
where I was nearly stifled, while day and night I heard the oaths and
groans of my wounded compatriots, who abuse the English as the cause of
their suffering, regardless of the care that is being taken of them."

"I was very sure you would recover sooner in a quiet house by yourself,
and therefore I begged my officer to have you removed," said Bill.

It was not for some time that Pierre remarked the new midshipman's
uniform.

"Why, you told me you were a ship's boy, now I see you dressed as an
officer!" he exclaimed, in a tone of astonishment.  "The gendarmes were
right after all."

"No, they were wrong," answered Bill.  "I was then what I told you, but
I am now a midshipman."

He then gave an account to Pierre of how he had been promoted.  Their
conversation was interrupted by the return of Mrs Crofton and Mary with
some food for their patient, as the doctor had told Mr Saltwell that he
should be fed often, though with but little at a time.  As Mrs Crofton
could speak French, she did not require Bill to interpret for her.

He was glad to find that Pierre would be able to converse with his kind
hostess Mr Saltwell, who had gone into the drawing-room, now told Bill
that he might stay with Pierre until the evening, and that he should
have leave to visit him every day while the frigate remained in harbour.

The first lieutenant now took his leave, and Mrs Crofton observing that
"Pierre would be the better for some sleep, after the excitement of
being moved," invited Bill into her sitting-room, she naturally wishing
to hear more about his adventures in France than Mr Saltwell had been
able to tell her.  Bill himself was perfectly willing to talk away on
the subject as long as she wished, especially when he found so ready a
listener in Mary.  He began with an account of the blowing up of the
_Foxhound_; and when he had finished, Mrs Crofton wished to know how it
was that he first came to go to sea, and so he had to go back to tell
her all about himself, and the death of his mother, and how he had been
left penniless in the world.

"And now I find you a midshipman with warm friends; in a few years you
will be a lieutenant, then a commander, and next a post-captain, I hope,
and at length a British admiral, and you will have gained your promotion
without the interest of relatives or born friends, simply by your own
good conduct and bravery."

"I don't know what I may become, ma'am," said Bill, inclined to smile at
Mrs Crofton's enthusiasm.  "At present I am but a midshipman, but I
will try, as I always have, to do my duty."

This conversation made Bill feel perfectly at home with Mrs Crofton.
Indeed, it seemed to him as if he had known her all his life, so that he
was willing to confide in her as if she were his mother.

He was equally willing to confide in Mary.  Indeed, all the reserve he
at first felt quickly wore off, and he talked to her as if she had been
his sister.  If he did not say to himself that she was a perfect angel,
he thought her what most people would consider very much better--a kind,
good, honest, open-hearted girl, with clear hazel, truthful eyes, and a
sweet smile on her mouth when she smiled, which was very frequently,
with a hearty ring in her laughter.  She reminded him, as she did
Pierre, of Jeannette, and Bill felt very sure that, should she ever have
the opportunity of helping any one in distress, she would be ready to
take as much trouble and run as many risks as the French girl had in
assisting Jack and him.

"Do you know, Mr Rayner, I like midshipmen very much?" she said, in her
artless way.  "My brother Oliver is a midshipman, and as I am very fond
of him, I like all midshipmen for his sake.  At first I was inclined to
like you because you were a midshipman, but now I like you for
yourself."

"I am much obliged to you," said Bill; "and I like you for yourself, I
can tell you.  I didn't know before that you had a brother Oliver.
Where is he serving?"

"On board the _Ariel_ corvette in the West Indies," answered Mary.

"Perhaps some day we may fall in with each other," said Bill; "and I am
very sure, from what you say about him, we shall become good friends,
for I shall be inclined to like him for your sake."

"Then I'm sure he will like you; he could not help doing so.  He is only
three years older than I am; just about your age I suppose.  He went to
sea when he was a very little fellow with poor dear papa, who was killed
in action.  Oliver was by his side at the time, and wrote us home an
account of the sad, sad event, saying how brokenhearted he was.  The
people were very kind to him.  Papa was lieutenant of the ship, and was
loved by all the men, as I am sure he would have been, remembering how
good and kind and gentle he was with us."

The tears came into Mary's bright eyes as she spoke of her father.

"Whenever we hear of a battle out there, poor mamma is very anxious
until the particulars come home, and she knows that Oliver is safe,"
said Mary.  "We are nearly sure to get a letter from him, for he always
writes when he can, and I hope that you'll write also when you are away,
and tell us all that you are doing; then we shall receive two letters
instead of one, and we shall always be so very, very glad to hear from
you."

Bill promised that he would write constantly, saying that he should be
pleased to do so, especially as he had not many correspondents; indeed,
he might have said that he had none, as he was, in truth, not acquainted
with anybody on shore.  Mary and her mother were the first friends he
had ever possessed, so that he very naturally valued them the more.
They were of very great service to him in many respects, for Mrs
Crofton was a ladylike and refined person, though her means were small,
and she was able to give him instruction in the ways and manners of
people of education; though Bill was so observant, and anxious to
imitate what was right, that he only required the opportunity to fit
himself thoroughly for his new station in life.

Mr Saltwell lent him books, and he read during every spare moment, to
make amends for his want of early education.

When he came on shore, Mrs Crofton assisted him, and as she knew French
very well, helped him to study it with a grammar and dictionary, which
he found very easy, as he already understood so much of the language,
and he was able to practise speaking with Pierre.

The young Frenchman slowly recovered, but the doctor, who came to visit
him from the hospital every day, said that it would be a long time
before he would regain strength and be able to return to France.

Bill had written, at Pierre's dictation, to Madame Turgot, to tell her
where he was, what had happened to him, and how well he was treated.  It
was rather a funny composition, as Pierre was no great scholar, and
could not say how the words should be spelt, but Bill showed it to Mrs
Crofton, who assured him that it would be understood perfectly well,
which was the great object required, and that Madame Turgot would be
satisfied, from the tone and expression, that it came from her son.

There was no regular post in those days between the two countries.
Pierre, however, at length got an answer from his mother, directed to
the care of Mrs Crofton, expressing her heartfelt thanks to Lieutenant
Saltwell and Bill, and the kind lady who had befriended him.  She sent
also many messages from Captain Turgot and Jeannette.

The letter arrived just as the _Thisbe_ was ready for sea.  Mary could
not help bursting into tears when Bill took his leave for the last time.

"It's just like Oliver going away," she said.  Indeed, it was evident
that she looked upon Bill as another Oliver, and even Mrs Crofton
showed how sincerely sorry she was to part with her young visitor, who
had so greatly won on her affections.

She promised to write again to Madame Turgot to let her know how Pierre
was getting on; but there appeared no probability of his being able to
move until the frigate came back, when Mr Saltwell would be able to
make arrangements for his return to France.

Though sorry to leave his kind friends, Bill was very glad to be at sea
again, and engaged in the active duties of his profession.  His
messmates treated him with much kindness, and remarked among themselves
the improvement in his manners, while two or three fresh members of the
mess, when they heard how he had gained his promotion, looked upon him
with evident respect.  He did not, however, forget his old friends, and
Jack was always pleased when he came forward to talk to him, and did not
appear at all jealous, which could not be said of Tom, who, though he
did not venture to show his feelings, was inclined to keep out of his
way, and sometimes answered in rather a surly tone when spoken to,
always taking care to bring in the "sir" after every sentence, and
touching his hat with mock respect, of which Bill, though he could not
fail to observe, took no notice.

The _Thisbe_ had been several weeks at sea, and had during that time
captured, without firing a shot, three of the enemy's merchantmen, which
she had sent into Plymouth, the more pugnacious of the crew grumbling at
not having encountered an enemy worthy of their prowess, and which would
have afforded them a larger amount of prize-money.

Captain Martin was about to return to port to take on board his officers
and men when he was joined by the _Venus_ frigate.  Her captain told him
that he had just before made out two French frigates to the south-east,
and the _Thisbe_ bore up with the _Venus_ in chase, with every stitch of
canvas they could carry set.

A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and the French frigates,
which had been seen to the eastward, had a considerable start of their
pursuers.  Still, as they had been under moderate canvas, it was hoped
that they would set no more sail, and might thus be overtaken.

A sharp look-out was kept, and the officers were continually going aloft
with their glasses, and sweeping the horizon from north to south, in the
hopes of espying the enemy.

"I say, Jack, do you think if we come up with those two Frenchmen we are
chasing they'll turn round and fight us?" asked Tom, who thought it much
pleasanter to capture unarmed merchant vessels than to have to fight an
enemy which sent round shots and bullets on board in return.

"No doubt about that, youngster," answered Ben Twinch, the boatswain's
mate, who overheard Tom's remark.  "What do you think we come to sea
for?  If we can take a man-of-war of our own size she's worth half a
dozen merchant craft, though, to be sure, some of us may lose the number
of our mess; but we all know that, and make no count of it.  Maybe
you'll have your head taken off one of these days, and if you do, you'll
only share the fate of many another fine fellow."

"I hope not!" cried Tom, mechanically putting up his hand to his head as
if to hold it on, and turning from Ben.

"Never fear!" said Jack, wishing to console him; "the chances are that
you will escape and live to fight another day."

If Tom had any fear, it was not the time to show it.  He heard all
around him speak of fighting as if it were fun, and of death with
seeming levity.  It is the way of the young and the thoughtless.  Old
sailors and old soldiers seldom talk thus, and think more of duty than
of glory.  For young or for old the loss of life is not a matter for
light talk, as if death were only the end of it.  Those that cause war
will have much to reckon for hereafter.  But there is no time for such
thoughts in sight of the enemy.  So we must go on with our story.

The midshipmen aft were universally anxious to come up with the vessels
of which they were in chase.  It was supposed that they were frigates of
the same size as their own and the _Venus_; but should they prove much
larger, they were equally ready to engage them.

Still, hour after hour went by, and no enemy appearing, they began to
fear that the Frenchmen would get into port before they could be
overtaken.  At length, just before the sun reached the horizon, his rays
fell on the royals and topgallantsails of two ships right ahead.  As the
sun sank lower they were again lost to view, but their appearance
revived the hopes of all on board.  It was not likely that they would
alter their course during the night, and it was hoped, therefore, that
before morning they would be overtaken.  It was not likely that the
_Thisbe_ and _Venus_, being in the shadow, would have been perceived.

"The chances are that we shall be upon them in the dark," said Jack to
Tom; "and we'll surprise them, I've a notion.  The captain thinks so, or
he wouldn't have given the order to prepare for action."

"I would rather fight in daylight," said Tom, "and I hope they'll manage
to keep ahead till then."

Jack laughed, for he suspected that Tom would rather not fight at all.

The watch below were ordered to turn in as usual, but most of the
officers kept on deck, too eager for the work to be able to sleep.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ACTION BETWEEN THE "THISBE" AND A FRENCH FRIGATE.

Rayner--for such he ought now to be called--who was in the middle watch,
was standing forward on the look-out, and, as may be supposed, he did
not allow an eye to wink.  Several times he thought that he could see
two dark objects rising above the horizon, but his imagination might
have deceived him, for they, at all events, grew no larger.  When his
watch was over, he came aft into the midshipmen's berth, where several
of his messmates were collected.  He might have turned in, for the night
was drawing on, but there were still two hours to daylight.  He, as well
as others, dropped asleep with their heads on the table.

They were aroused from their uncomfortable slumbers by the boatswain's
call, piping the hammocks up, and on coming on deck the first thing they
saw were the two ships they had been chasing all night directly ahead,
their topsails just rising above the water.  Their hopes revived that
they would come up with them before the day was many hours older; still
the strangers were a long way out of range of their bow chasers.

As the sun rose and shone on their own canvas they knew that they must
be clearly seen, and it was hoped that the two ships would, if their
captains were inclined to fight, heave to and await their coming.

Such, however, it was evidently the intention of the Frenchman not to
do, for it was seen that studding-sails were being set below and aloft.

"Still they may not have the heels of us," observed Captain Martin to
the first lieutenant; "and before they get into Cherbourg we may be up
to them."

It was thought that as the day advanced the wind might increase, but in
this Captain Martin was disappointed.  At length, towards evening, Cape
La Hogue and the coast of France, to the westward of Cherbourg, appeared
in sight.  In a few hours it was too probable that the French ships
would get safe into port.

Remarks not over complimentary to the valour of the Frenchmen were made
by the crews of the English frigates, when they saw that the enemy had
escaped them; but as Jack observed, "There's no use grumbling; the
mounseers have got away from us because they knew the tremendous
drubbing we would have given them."

"Perhaps we may see them again before long," said Tom, his courage
returning now that all danger of an encounter had passed.  "Depend on
it, our captain will do his best to give them a taste of our quality."

Tom was right; for although the _Thisbe_ and _Venus_ had to haul their
wind, and stand off shore, a bright look-out was kept, in the hopes that
the French frigates might again put to sea.

Day after day passed, and at length the _Venus_ parted company from the
_Thisbe_.  The latter frigate was standing across Channel when a lugger
was sighted, to which she gave chase.  The stranger at first made all
sail, as if to escape.  She was at length seen to heave to.  On coming
up with her, it was at first doubtful whether she was English or French,
but as the frigate approached she hoisted English colours and lowered a
boat, which in a short time came alongside, and a fine,
intelligent-looking man stepping upon deck, announced himself as master
of the lugger.  He had, he said, at first taken the _Thisbe_ for a
French frigate which was in the habit of coming out of Cherbourg every
evening, picking up any prizes she could fall in with, and returning
next morning with them into port.  He had, indeed, narrowly escaped once
before.

This was valuable information, and Captain Martin determined to act upon
it, in the hopes of capturing the marauder.  Being engaged in particular
service, the master of the lugger was allowed to proceed on his way, and
the _Thisbe_ stood back towards Cherbourg.

The day passed, and no enemy appeared.  Next morning, however, a sail
was seen to the northward.  Captain Martin immediately bore up to
ascertain her character.  As the daylight increased, all felt confident
that she was a frigate, and probably French.  The stranger was seen to
be carrying a press of canvas, and apparently steering for Cherbourg.
To re-enter that port she must encounter the _Thisbe_, on board which
preparations were made for the expected engagement.  The stranger, too,
continuing her course, hauled her wind, and stood down Channel, as if
anxious to escape.  Why she did so it was difficult to say, except on
the possibility that she had seen another English ship to the northward,
and was unwilling to encounter two enemies at once.

It was the general opinion that she was a powerful frigate, considerably
larger than the _Thisbe_; but even if such were the case, Captain Martin
was not the man to be deterred from engaging her.  The stranger sailed
well, and there appeared every probability that she would distance the
_Thisbe_, and if she wished it, get back to port without coming to
action.

In a short time the weather became very thick, and, to the
disappointment of all, the stranger was lost sight of.  Still the
_Thisbe_ continued her course, and many a sharp pair of eyes were
employed in looking out for the Frenchman, it being difficult to say,
should the fog lift, in what direction she might next be seen.  She
might tack and run back to Cherbourg, or she might, trusting to her
superior sailing, stand across the _Thisbe's_ bows to the southward.

A couple of hours passed.  As at any moment the fog might clear away,
and the stranger might appear close aboard her, the _Thisbe_ prepared
for immediate action.  The men had been sent below to dinner, and the
prospect of a fight did not damp their appetites.

The midshipmen had finished theirs, and Rayner, who had just relieved
one of his messmates on deck, was on the look-out when he espied, away
on the larboard bow, a sail through the fog, which had somewhat
dispersed in that quarter.  A second glance convinced him that she was a
large ship.  He instantly shouted out the welcome intelligence.  Every
one hoped that she was the vessel they were in search of.  The drum beat
to quarters, and scarcely were the guns run out than the fog clearing
still more discovered a large frigate standing under all sail to the
eastward, about half a mile away.  If she were the one they had before
seen, she had evidently acted as Captain Martin had supposed might be
the case, and having crossed the _Thisbe's_ course, had then kept away,
hoping to get in shore of her and back to Cherbourg.  At once the
_Thisbe_ was put about, and then stood so as to cross the stranger's
bows.  The latter, on seeing this, hoisting French colours, rapidly
shortened sail and hauled up to the northward, the two ships crossing
each other on contrary tacks.  The _Thisbe_ fired her starboard
broadside, receiving one in return, and then going about, endeavoured to
get to windward of her antagonist.  This, however, she was unable to do,
and was compelled to continue the engagement to leeward.  Her crew
fought with the usual courage of British seamen, but the enemy's shot
were making fearful havoc on her masts and rigging.  Her three lower
masts and bowsprit were in a short time wounded in several places, most
of her stays were shot away, and much damage was done to the main
rigging.

At length her main-topsail yard was shot away in the slings by a
double-headed shot, and the yard-arms came down in front of the
mainyard, the leech ropes of the mainsail were cut to pieces and the
sail riddled.  All the time, also, whenever the ships were within
musket-range, showers of bullets came rattling on board, and several of
the men were laid low.

Still Captain Martin did not attempt to escape from his opponent, which
was seen to have twenty guns on a side, besides quarter-deck guns, and a
number of men armed with muskets.  He hoped, by perseverance, to knock
away her masts or inflict such other serious injury as might compel her
to give in.

This was Rayner's first action since he had attained his present rank.
He endeavoured to maintain his character, and though it was trying work
to see his shipmates struck down on either side of him, he did not for a
moment think of himself or the risk he ran of meeting the same fate.
All the time spars, rigging, and blocks were falling from aloft, shot
away by the hot fire of the enemy.  He endeavoured to keep himself cool
and composed, and to execute the orders he received.

Jack and Tom were employed as powder-monkeys on the maindeck, when
Rayner was sent by the captain to ascertain what was going on.  As he
went along it he passed his two friends.

Jack was as active as ever, handing up the powder required; poor Tom
looked the picture of misery.

"Ain't the enemy going to strike yet, Mr Rayner?" he asked, in a
melancholy tone; "we've been a long time about it, and I thought they
would have given in long ago."

"I hope they soon will have enough of it and give in, and we must blaze
away at them until they do," answered the midshipman, hurrying on.

Just then a shot came crashing in through the side, passing just where
Rayner had been standing, sending the splinters flying about in all
directions.  He had not time to look round, but thought he heard a cry
as if some one had been hit, and he hurried on to deliver his message to
the second lieutenant.

On his way back he took a glance to see how it fared with his two
friends.  Tom was seated on his tub, but poor Jack lay stretched on
deck.  Rayner, hastening to him, lifted him up.

"I'm only hit in the leg," answered Jack to his inquiries.  "It hurt me
very much, and I fell, but I'll try to do my duty."  How barbarous is
war!

Rayner, however, saw that this was impossible, as the blood was flowing
rapidly from the wounded limb, and calling one of the people appointed
to attend those who were hurt, he ordered him to carry Jack below.
"Tell the surgeons he's badly wounded, and get them to attend to him at
once," he said.

He longed to be able to go himself, but his duty compelled him to return
to the upper deck.  Scarcely had he got there than he saw, to his grief,
that the enemy had dropped under the stern, and the next instant,
discharging her broadside, she raked the _Thisbe_ fore and aft.  In vain
the latter tried to escape from her critical position; before she could
do so she was a second time raked, the gaff being shot away, the
mizenmast injured, and the remaining rigging cut through and through.
Fortunately, the _Thisbe_ still answered her helm, and the crew were
endeavouring to make sail, when the enemy ranged up on the starboard
quarter, her forecastle being covered with men, evidently intending to
board.

Captain Martin, on seeing this, sent Rayner below with orders to double
shot the after-maindeck guns, and to fire them as the enemy came close
up.  The next he shouted the cry which British seamen are always ready
to obey, "Boarders, repel boarders;" and every man not engaged at the
guns hurried aft, cutlass in hand, ready to drive back the foe as soon
as the ships should touch; but ere that moment arrived, an iron shower
issued from the guns beneath their feet, crashing through the
Frenchman's bows and tearing along her decks.  Instead of coming on, she
suddenly threw all her sails aback, and hauled off out of gunshot.  On
seeing this, the British crew uttered three hearty cheers, and Rayner,
with others who had hurried from below, fully believed that the enemy
had hauled down her flag, but instead of that, under all the sail she
could carry, she continued standing away until she had got two miles
off.  Here she hove-to, in order, it was evident, to repair damages.
These must have been very severe, for many of her men were seen over the
sides engaged in stopping shot-holes, while the water, which issued
forth in cascades, showed that the pumps were being worked with might
and main to keep her from sinking.

The _Thisbe_ was in too crippled a condition to follow.  Several shot
had passed between wind and water on both sides.  One gun on the
quarter-deck and two on the maindeck were dismounted, and almost all the
tackles and breachings were cut away.  The maindeck before the mainmast
was torn up from the waterway to the hatchways, and the bits were shot
away, as was the chief part of the gangways.  Not an officer had been
killed, but two midshipmen, the master, and gunner, were wounded.
Twenty men were wounded and eleven lost the number of their mess.

The wind, which had been moderate when the action began, had now greatly
increased.  Not a moment was lost in commencing the repair of damages.
The sky indicated the approach of bad weather, and a westerly or
south-westerly gale might be expected.  Before all the shot-holes could
be stopped it came on to blow very hard.  Plymouth being too far to the
westward, the nearest shelter the _Thisbe_ could reach was Portland,
towards which she steered.

The moon coming forth, she had light sufficient to run in and anchor,
protected by the projecting headland from the furious gale now blowing.

Many a brave man on board besides the captain breathed more freely than
they had done for some hours when the anchor was dropped and the torn
canvas furled.  Still the _Thisbe_ would be in a critical position
should the wind shift more to the southward, as she would be exposed to
the seas rolling into the bay.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE SHIPWRECK.

As soon as Rayner could obtain a spare moment, he hastened below to
visit poor Jack.  He met Tom on the way.

"Jack's very bad, Mr Rayner," answered Tom to his inquiries.  "He
didn't know me just now; he's talking about his mother, and fancying
she's nursing him."

This news made our hero feel very sad, and he hurried on to the lower
deck, where the wounded lay in their hammocks, sheltered by a canvas
screen.

He inquired of one of the attendants where Jack Peek was, and soon found
him, the surgeon being by his side dressing his wound.

"I'm much afraid that he will slip through our fingers unless we can
manage to quell the fever.  He requires constant watching, and that is
more than he can well obtain, with so many men laid up, and so much to
do," said the doctor as he finished his task.  "However, Rayner, if you
can stay by him, I'll be back in a few minutes to see how he's getting
on.  In the meantime give him this medicine; if he comes to his senses,
a word or two from you may do him good."

Though Rayner himself could scarcely stand from fatigue, he undertook to
do as the doctor requested.  He waited until he saw, by the light of the
lantern hung up from a beam overhead, that Jack had come somewhat to
himself, when he got him to take the draught he held in his hand.

"How do you feel, Jack?" he asked in a low tone; but poor Jack did not
reply.  After waiting a little time longer, Rayner again spoke.  "We've
beaten off the enemy, you know, and are safe under shelter of the land.
Cheer up now, you'll soon get round."

"Is that you, Bill?" asked Jack, in a faint voice.  "I thought mother
was with me, and I was on shore, but I'm glad she's not, for it would
grieve her to see me knocked about as I am."

"You'll do well now, the doctor said so, as you've come to yourself,"
observed Rayner, much cheered at hearing Jack speak.  "I'll stay by you
while it is my watch below, and then I'll get Tom to come.  Now go to
sleep, if the pain will let you."

"The pain isn't so very great, and I don't mind it since we have licked
the enemy," answered Jack; "but I hope you won't be angry at me calling
you Bill; I quite forgot, Mr Rayner, that you were a midshipman."

"No, I didn't remark that you called me Bill," answered Rayner; "if I
had, I shouldn't have thought about it.  I just feel as I did when I was
your messmate.  However, I must not let you be talking, so now shut your
eyes and get some sleep; it will do you more good than the doctor's
stuff."

Rayner was very glad when the doctor came back, accompanied by Tom, and
having observed that Jack was going on as well as he expected, told him
to go to his hammock.  This he gladly did, leaving Tom in charge of
their friend.

Rayner felt that he greatly needed rest; but as he had expended part of
his watch below, he could not have three hours' sleep.

On coming on deck he found the gale was blowing harder than ever, though
the frigate lay sheltered by the land.

Almost immediately the sound of a distant gun reached his ear.  It was
followed rapidly by others, and the sound appeared to come down on the
gale.

"There's a ship in danger on the other side of Portland," observed the
second lieutenant, who was the officer of the watch.  "Rayner, go and
tell the captain.  He desired to be called if anything happened."

Captain Martin, who had only thrown himself down on his bed in his
clothes, was on his feet in a moment, and followed Rayner on deck.

After listening a minute.  "It's more than possible she's our late
antagonist," he observed.  "If the gale caught her unprepared, her masts
probably went by the board, and, unable to help herself, she is driving
in here.  Get a couple of boats ready with some coils of rope, and
spars, and rockets, and we'll try and save the lives of the poor
fellows."

Rayner was surprised to hear this, supposing that the captain intended
to pull out to sea, whereas he had resolved to go overland to the part
of the coast which probably the ship in distress was approaching.
Although where the frigate lay was tolerably smooth water, yet, from the
white-crested seas which broke outside, and the roaring of the wind as
it swept over the land, it was very evident that no boat could live when
once from under its shelter.

The captain, accompanied by three gun-room officers, Rayner and another
midshipman, and twenty men, landed at the nearest spot where the boats
could put in, and proceeded overland in the direction from which the
sound of the guns had come.

Again and again they boomed forth through the midnight air.  Solemnly
they struck on the ear, telling of danger and death.  Scarcely, however,
had the party proceeded a quarter of a mile than they ceased.  In vain
they were listened for.  It was too evident that the ship had struck the
fatal rocks, and if so, there was not a moment to be lost, or too
probably the whole of the hapless crew would be lost.

The western shore was reached at last.  As they approached the cliffs
they saw a number of people moving about, and as they got to the bay and
looked down over the foaming ocean, they could see a dark object some
fifty fathoms off, from which proceeded piercing shrieks and cries for
help.  It was the hull of a large ship, hove on her beam-ends, her masts
gone, the after-part already shattered and rent by the fierce seas which
dashed furiously against her, threatening to sweep off the miserable
wretches clinging to the bulwarks and stanchions.  To form a
communication with her was Captain Martin's first object.  As yet it was
evident that no attempt of the sort had been made, most of the people
who had collected being more eager apparently to secure the casks,
chests, and other things thrown on shore than to assist their perishing
fellow-creatures.  It was vain to shout and direct the people on the
wreck to attach a line to a cask and let it float in towards the beach.
The most stentorian voices could not make themselves heard when sent in
the teeth of the gale now blowing.  On descending the cliffs, Captain
Martin and his party found a narrow strip of beach, on which they could
stand out of the power of the seas, which, in quick succession, came
foaming and roaring in towards them.  He immediately ordered a couple of
rockets to be let off, to show the strangers that there were those on
shore who were ready to help them.  No signal was fired in return, not
even a lantern shown, but the crashing, rending sounds which came from
the wreck made it too evident that she could not much longer withstand
the furious assaults of the raging ocean.  Captain Martin inquired
whether any of his crew were sufficiently good swimmers to reach the
wreck.

Rayner longed to say that he would try, but he had never swum in a heavy
sea, and felt that it would be madness to make the attempt.

"I'll try it, sir," cried Ben Twinch, the boatswain's mate, one of the
most powerful men in the ship.  "I'd like, howsomdever, to have a line
round my waist.  Do you stand by, mates, and haul me back if I don't
make way; there are some ugly bits of timber floating about, and one of
them may give me a lick on the head, and I shan't know what's
happening."

Ben's offer was accepted.  While the coil of line was being got ready, a
large spar, to which a couple of men were clinging, was seen floating in
towards the beach, but it was still at some distance, and there was a
fearful probability that before it touched the shore the reflux of the
water might drag them off to destruction.

"Quick, lads, quick, and I'll try to get hold of one or both of them, if
I can," cried Ben, fastening the rope round his body.  His example was
followed by another man, who, in the same way, secured a rope round
himself, when both plunged in and seized the well-nigh drowning
strangers, just as, utterly exhausted, they had let go their hold.  They
were able, however, to speak, and Rayner discovered that they were
French.

By the captain's directions he inquired the name of the ship.

"The _Zenobie_ frigate, of forty guns and three hundred and forty men,"
was the answer.  "We had an action yesterday with an English frigate,
which made off while we were repairing damages, but truly she so knocked
us about that when we were caught by the gale our masts went over the
side, and we were driven utterly helpless on this terrible coast."

Rayner did not tell the _Thisbe's_ men, who were trying to assist the
hapless strangers, that they were their late antagonists.  He merely
said, "They are Frenchmen, lads; but I'm sure that will make no
difference to any of us."

"I should think not, whether they're Mynheers or Mounseers," cried Ben.
"They're drowning, and want our help; so, whether enemies or friends,
we'll try to haul as many of the poor fellows ashore as we can get hold
of, and give them dry jackets, and a warm welcome afterwards.  Slack
away, mates!"  And he plunged into the foaming billows.

His progress was anxiously watched as he rose now on the top of a
roaring sea, now concealed as he sank into the hollow to appear again on
the side of another, all the time buffeting the foaming breakers, now
avoiding a mass of timber, now grasping a spar, and making it support
him as he forced his way onward, until he was lost to sight in the
gloom.

After a considerable time of intense anxiety it was found that the line
was taut.  Ben had, it was supposed, reached the forechains of the
frigate.  Then the question rose, whether he would be able to make
himself understood by the Frenchmen.  One of the men, however, who had
been washed on shore said that he believed one or two people on board
understood English; but it was doubtful whether they were among those
who had already perished.

Some more minutes passed, and then they felt the line shaken.  It was
the signal for them to haul in.  Rapidly pulling away, they at length
had the satisfaction of finding the end of a stout hawser, with a
smaller line attached to it.  The hawser was made fast round a rock,
then, knowing the object of the line, they hauled away at it until they
saw a cradle coming along with a couple of boys in it.  The moment they
were taken out the cradle was hauled back, and then a man appeared, and
thus, one after another, about sixty of the French crew were dragged on
shore.

Every time the cradle appeared, his shipmates hoped to see Ben in it;
but Rayner learned from one of the persons in it that he had remained on
the wreck, assisting those who were too benumbed or bewildered with fear
to secure themselves.

As the poor Frenchmen were landed, they were placed under charge of some
of the men appointed for the purpose, while two of the officers supplied
the most exhausted with such restoratives as they required.

Many, they said, had already been washed off the wreck and been lost,
while others were too much paralysed by fear even to make their way to
where Ben was standing, lashed to a stanchion, ready to help them into
the cradle.

Great fears were now entertained lest he should suffer by his noble
exertions to save others.  The crashing and rending sounds increased in
frequency.  Every instant some huge portion of the wreck was rent away,
and the whole intervening mass of seething waters was covered by dark
fragments of timber, tossing and rolling as they approached the beach,
or were floated out to sea, or cast against the rocks.  Still the
Frenchmen kept arriving.  Now one more daring than the others would
crawl along the cable in spite of the risk of being washed off by the
hungry breakers into which it was occasionally plunged.

Rayner, who stood on the rock with a party engaged in assisting the
people as they arrived in the cradle, inquired whether there were many
more to come.

"I think so, monsieur," was the answer; "we mustered nearly four hundred
souls, but of those, alas! numbers have already been washed away."

Again and again those fearful crashings, mingled with despairing
shrieks, were heard above the roar of wild breakers.  Rayner felt
serious apprehensions about the safety of brave Ben.

At any moment the wreck might break up, and then it would be scarcely
possible for a human being to exist amidst the masses of timber which
would be hurled wildly about.

Again the cradle was to be hauled in.  In came with greater difficulty
than before, as if it carried a heavier weight.  It seemed as if the
cable would not bear the additional strain.

The British seamen exerted all their strength, for at any moment, even
if the cable did not break, it might be torn from its holdfast on the
wreck.  As the cradle came in, two men were seen seated in it, one
holding another in his arms.  Rayner heard the words, "Vite, vite, mon
ami, ou nous sommes perdu."

"Haul away, lads, haul away!" he shouted out, though his men required no
urging.

Just as the cradle was reaching the rock, a crash, even louder than its
predecessors, was heard.  Several men sprang forward to grasp the
occupants of the cradle.  The outer end of the rope had given way, and
in another instant they would have been too late.

Again the wild shrieks of despair of the helpless wretches who still
remained on the wreck echoed along the cliffs.

"Poor Ben! has he gone?" exclaimed Rayner.  "No, sir, he's one of those
we've just got ashore," answered a quarter-master who, with several
others, had rushed down to help the two men taken out of the cradle, and
who were now bearing the apparently inanimate body of the boatswain's
mate up the rock; "the other's a Frenchman by his lingo."

Rayner hurried to the spot, when what was his surprise, as the light of
the lantern fell on the countenance of the Frenchman last landed, to see
Pierre's father, Captain Turgot!

Putting out his hand, he warmly shook that of his old friend, who opened
his eyes with a look of astonishment, naturally not recognising him.

"Don't you know me, Captain Turgot?" said Rayner.  "I am one of the boys
you saved when our frigate was blown up."

"What! are you little Bill?" exclaimed the honest fisherman.  "That is
wonderful.  Then you escaped after all.  I am indeed glad."

There was no time just then, however, for explanations.  Rayner thanked
his old friend for saving Ben's life.

"I could do nothing else," was the answer.  "He was about to place
another man in the cradle who had not the courage to get into it by
himself, when a piece of timber surging up struck both of them, the
other was swept away, and the brave English sailor would have suffered
the same fate had I not got hold of him; and then, though I had made up
my mind to remain to the last, I saw that the only way to save him was
to bring him myself in the cradle to the shore, and I am thankful that I
did so.  But my poor countrymen!  There are many still remaining who
must perish if we cannot get another hawser secured to the wreck."

This was what Captain Martin was now endeavouring to do, but there was
no one found willing or able to swim back to the wreck.  The danger of
making the attempt was, indeed, far greater than at first.

Ben was regaining his consciousness; but even had he been uninjured,
after the exertions he had gone through, he would have been unfit to
repeat the dangerous exploit.

Captain Turgot offered to try; but when he saw the intermediate space
through which he would have to pass covered with masses of wreck, he
acknowledged that it would be impossible to succeed.

The final catastrophe came at last.  A tremendous wave, higher than its
predecessors, rolled in, apparently lifting the wreck, which, coming
down again with fearful force upon the rocks, split into a thousand
fragments.

As the wave, after dashing furiously on the shore, rolled back again, a
few shattered timbers could alone be perceived, with not a human being
clinging to them.

Shrieks of despair, heard above the howling tempest, rose from the
surging water, but they were speedily hushed, and of the struggling
wretches two men alone, almost exhausted, were thrown by a succeeding
wave on the shingly beach, together with the bodies of several already
numbered among the dead.

When Captain Martin came to muster the shipwrecked men saved by his
exertions, he found that upwards of three hundred of the crew of his
late antagonist had perished, seventy alone having landed in safety.
Leaving a party on the beach to watch lest any more should be washed on
shore, he and the magistrate led the way up the cliff.  The Frenchmen
followed with downcast hearts, fully believing that they were to be
treated as prisoners of war.  Some of them, aided by the British seamen,
carried those who had been too much injured to walk.

After they had arrived at a spot where some shelter was found from the
fury of the wind, Captain Martin, calling a halt, sent for Rayner, and
told him to assure the Frenchmen that he did not look upon them as
enemies or prisoners of war, but rather as unfortunate strangers who,
having been driven on the English coast by the elements, had a right to
expect assistance and kind treatment from the inhabitants, and that such
it was his wish to afford them.

Expressions of gratitude rose from the lips of the Frenchmen when Rayner
had translated what Captain Martin had said.  The magistrate then
offered to receive as many as his own house could accommodate, as did
two gentlemen who had accompanied him, their example being followed by
other persons, and before morning the whole of the shipwrecked seamen
were housed, including three or four officers, the only ones saved.  The
poor fellows endeavoured by every way in their power to show how
grateful they were for the kindness they were receiving.

Captain Martin's first care was to write an account of the occurrence to
the Admiralty, stating what he had done, and expressing a hope that the
shipwrecked crew would be sent back as soon as possible to France.

By return of post, which was not, however, until the end of three or
four days, Captain Martin had the satisfaction of receiving a letter
from the king himself, highly approving of his conduct, and directing
that the Frenchmen should each receive as much clothing and money as
they required, and as soon as a cartel could be got ready, sent back to
Cherbourg or some other French port.

News of the battered state of the _Thisbe_ having been received at the
Admiralty, a frigate was ordered round to escort her into port, as she
was not in a position to put to sea safely by herself.  The Frenchmen
having been received on board the two frigates, and a light northerly
breeze springing up, they sailed together for Plymouth.  The pumps were
kept going on board the _Thisbe_ during the whole passage, when the
Frenchmen, at the instigation of Captain Turgot, volunteered to work
them.

Rayner had many a talk about Pierre with his old friend, who longed to
embrace his son, and was profuse in his expressions of gratitude for the
kindness he had received.

Directly he returned on board, Rayner went to Jack, whom he found going
on well.  Captain Turgot, on hearing that Jack had been wounded, begged
permission to see him, and from that moment spent every instant he could
by his side, tending him as if he had been his own son.

It was curious to see the way the English sailors treated their French
guests who had so lately been engaged with them in a desperate fight.
Several were suffering from bruises and exposure on the wreck.  These
were nursed with a tender care, as if they had been women or children,
the sailors carrying those about whose legs had been hurt, and feeding
two or three, whose hands or arms had been injured, just as if they had
been big babies.

The rest of the Frenchmen who had escaped injury quickly recovered their
spirits, and might have been seen toeing and heeling it at night to the
sound of Bob Rosin's fiddle; and Bob, a one-legged negro, who performed
the double duty of cook's second mate and musician-general of the ship,
was never tired of playing as long as he could get any one to dance.
The style of performance of the two nationalities was very different,
but both received their share of applause from one another.  The
Frenchmen leapt into the air, whirled, bounded and skipped, while the
British tars did the double-shuffle and performed the various evolutions
of the hornpipe, to the admiration of their Gallic rivals.

By the time they had reached Plymouth they had won each other's hearts,
and hands were wrung, and many of the Frenchmen burst into tears as they
took their leave of their gallant entertainers, all protesting that they
should always remember their kindness, and expressing the hope that they
should never meet again except as friends.

Sad it is that men, who would be ever ready to live on friendly terms
and advance their mutual interests, should, by the ambition and lust of
power of a few, be compelled to slaughter and injure each other, as has
unhappily been the case for so many centuries throughout the whole
civilised portion of the world.

As soon as the anchor was dropped, Rayner asked for leave to go on shore
with Captain Turgot, to visit Mrs Crofton, and learn how Pierre was
getting on.

"You may go, but you must return on board at night, as there is plenty
of work to be done," answered the first lieutenant.

"Thank you, sir," said Rayner; and he hurried below to tell Captain
Turgot to get ready.

They shoved off by the first boat going on shore.  They walked on
quickly through the streets of Plymouth, Rayner anticipating the
pleasure of seeing Mrs Crofton and Mary, and of witnessing the meeting
between the honest Frenchman and his son.

"I hope that we shall find Pierre recovered; but the doctor said his
wound would take long to heal, and you must not be surprised if he is
still unable to move," he said to Captain Turgot.  "Our friends will
take very good care of him, and perhaps you would like to remain behind
until he is well."

"I would wish to be with him, but I am anxious to relieve the anxiety of
Madame Turgot and Jeannette, who, if they do not see me, will suppose
that I am lost," answered the Captain.  "I shall grieve to leave my boy
behind, but I know that he will be well cared for, and I cannot tell
you, my young friend, how grateful I am.  Little did I think, when I
picked you up out of the water, how amply you would return the service I
did you."

"I certainly did not expect in any way to be able to repay it," said
Rayner, "or, to say the truth, to feel the regard for Frenchmen which I
do for you and your son."

Rayner found Mrs Crofton and her daughter seated in the drawing-room.
After the first greetings were over, and he had introduced Captain
Turgot, he inquired after Pierre, expecting, through not seeing him,
that he was still unable to leave his room.

"He has gone out for a short walk, as the doctor tells him to be in the
fresh air as much as possible, and he is well able to get along with the
help of a stick," answered Mrs Crofton.  "I hope his father has not
come to take him away, for we shall be very sorry to lose him?"

"I don't know whether he will be allowed to go without being exchanged,"
answered Rayner; and he gave an account of the wreck of the _Zenobie_
and the arrangement which had been made for sending the survivors of her
crew back to France.

"That is very kind and generous of our good king.  No wonder that his
soldiers and sailors are so ready to fight for him," remarked Mrs
Crofton.

While they were speaking, Pierre entered the house.  His joy at seeing
his father almost overcame him.  They threw themselves into each other's
arms and embraced as Frenchmen are accustomed to embrace--somewhat, it
must be confessed, to Mary's amusement.  After they had become more
tranquil they sat down and talked away at such a rate that even Rayner
could scarcely understand what they were saying.  He meantime had a
pleasant conversation with Mary and her mother, for he had plenty to
tell them, and they evidently liked to listen to him.

After some time, during a pause in the conversation, Captain Turgot
desired Pierre to tell Mrs Crofton and her daughter how grateful he
felt for their kindness, his own knowledge of English being insufficient
to express his wishes.

They, hearing him, replied in French, and soon the whole party was
talking away in that language, though Mary's French, it must be
admitted, was not of a very choice description; but she laughed at her
own mistakes, and Rayner helped her out when she was in want of a word.

The afternoon passed pleasantly away, and Rayner, looking at his watch,
was sorry to find it was time to return.  He told Pierre that he must
report his state to the Captain and Mr Saltwell, who would decide what
he was to do.

Captain Turgot went back with him, having nowhere else to go.

Captain Martin lost no time in carrying out the wishes of the kind king.
A brig was chartered as a cartel, on board of which the Frenchmen were
at once sent.  Rayner was not aware that Mr Saltwell had obtained
permission for Pierre to go back with his father, and was much surprised
on being directed to go to Mrs Crofton's, and to escort him on board
the brig.

Pierre seemed scarcely to know whether to laugh or cry at regaining his
liberty as he took leave of his kind hostess and her daughter; but his
desire to see his mother and sister and la belle France finally overcame
his regret at parting from them, and he quickly got ready to set off.

"We shall be happy to see you as soon as you can come again, Mr
Rayner," said Mrs Crofton.

"Oh yes," added Mary, in a sweet voice, with a smile, which made our
hero at once promise that he would lose no opportunity of paying them a
visit.  Rayner's first duty was to see Captain Turgot and Pierre on
board the cartel.  They embraced him with tears in their eyes as they
wished him farewell, and many of the grateful Frenchmen gathered round
him, several expressing their hopes that France and England would soon
make up their quarrel.

"What it's all about, ma foi, is more than I or any of us can tell,"
exclaimed a boatswain's mate, wringing Rayner's hand, which all were
eager to grasp.  "We are carried on board ship and told to fight, and so
we fight--more fools we!  If we were wise, we should navigate our
merchant vessels, or go fishing, or stay at home and cultivate our
fields and gardens.  We all hope that there'll be peace when we next
meet, messieurs."

Many others echoed the sentiment, and cheered Rayner, who, after he had
sent many kind messages to Madame Turgot and Jeannette, hurried down the
side and returned on board the frigate.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

THE SHIP ON FIRE.

Jack, with the rest of those who had been wounded, had been sent to the
hospital.  Rayner the next day obtained leave to visit him.  He was
sorry for Tom, who was thus left very much to his own resources, and he
tried to find an opportunity of speaking a kind word to his former
companion; but Tom, as before, sulkily kept aloof, so that he was
compelled to leave him to himself.  He was very sorry, soon after, to
see him being led along the deck by the master-at-arms.  Tom looked
dreadfully downcast and frightened.

Rayner inquired what he had been doing.

"Attempting to desert, sir," was the answer.  "He had got on shore and
had dressed himself in a smock-frock and carter's hat, and was making
his way out of the town."

Tom could not deny the accusation, and he was placed in irons, awaiting
his punishment, with two other men who had also run from the ship and
had been caught.

Rayner felt a sincere compassion for his old messmate, and obtained
leave to pay him a visit, anxious to ascertain if there were any
extenuating circumstances by which he might obtain a remission of his
punishment.

"What made you try to run, Fletcher?" he asked, as he found Tom and his
two companions seated in "durance vile," on the deck.

"I wanted to go back to my father and to try and persuade him to get me
made a midshipman as you are," answered Tom.  "It's a shame that a
gentleman's son should be treated as I have been, and made a powder
monkey of, while you have been placed on the quarter-deck."

"I thought that you had applied to your father before, and that he had
refused to interfere," said Rayner, taking no notice of Tom's remark in
regard to himself.

"I know that, well enough; but it was my brother who answered the
letter; and, as my father is a clever man, I daresay by this time he has
become rich again, and, for very shame at having a son of his a common
ship's boy, would do as I wish.  Can't you tell the captain that, and
perhaps he'll excuse me the flogging?  It's very hard to be prevented
seeing my family, and to be flogged into the bargain.  It's more than I
can bear, and I've a great mind to jump overboard and drown myself when
I get my wrists out of these irons."

"You'll not do that," answered Rayner, knowing very well that Tom did
not dream of putting his threat into execution; "but I'll tell the first
lieutenant what you say about your wish to see your family, though I
fear it will not influence him in recommending the captain to remit your
punishment.  I would advise you, whatever happens, to submit, and to
try, by doing your duty, to gain a good name for yourself," said Rayner,
who gave him some other sound advice before he returned on deck.

Mr Saltwell shook his head when he heard what Rayner had to say.

"The captain won't forgive him, you may depend upon that, Rayner," he
answered; "desertion must be punished, were it only as a warning to
others."

Rayner, fortunately for himself, was on shore when Tom underwent his
punishment, so that he was saved the pain of seeing it inflicted.

The frigate had been surveyed, but what opinion had been formed about
her was not known for some time.  At length the captain, who had gone on
shore, returned, and, mustering the ship's company, informed them that,
according to the surveyor's report, it would take some months to put her
in thorough repair, and that in the meantime he had been appointed to
the command of the store-ship _Bombay Castle_, of sixty-four guns, bound
for the Mediterranean, and he should take his officers and crew with
him.  "We all of us might wish for more active service, my lads, but we
shall not be long absent, and I hope by the time we come back that we
shall find our tight little frigate as ready for any duty she may be
sent on, as you all, I am sure, will be."

A cheer was the reply to this address, and the next day the officers and
crew of the _Thisbe_ went on board their new ship.  They had, however,
first to get her ready for sea, and then to receive the stores on board,
by which time several of the wounded men, including Jack Peek, had
sufficiently recovered to join her.

The _Bombay Castle_ was rolling her away across the Bay of Biscay with a
northerly breeze.  She was a very different craft from the _Thisbe_, and
though more than twice her size, not nearly so comfortable.  Captain
Martin had received orders to avoid an engagement, except attacked, and
then to do his best to escape, as the stores she carried were of great
value, and were much required by the fleet.  Though several sail were
sighted supposed to be an enemy's squadron, she managed to escape from
them, and arrived safe at Gibraltar.  Here she was joined by the _Ione_
frigate, and the two ships sailed together, expecting to fall in with
the fleet off Toulon.

The two ships lay almost becalmed in the Gulf of Lyons.  Several
officers of the _Ione_, which was only a short distance off, had come on
board, when Captain Martin advised them, somewhat to their surprise, to
get back to the frigate.

"I don't quite like the look of the weather," he remarked.  "I've seen
the masts of a ship whipped out of her, when not five minutes before
there was no more wind than we have at present."

The frigate's boat left the side and was seen pulling rapidly towards
her.  Suddenly the cry was heard, "All hands on deck to save ship!"

Those who were below, springing up, found the ship heeling over till her
yard-arms almost touched the foaming water, which came rushing over the
deck, while the watch were engaged in letting fly tacks and sheets,
lowering topsails, clewing up, and hauling down, blocks were rattling,
sails shivering, the wind roaring, the sea leaping, hissing, and
foaming.  The helm was put up, the ship righted, and away she flew
before the furious blast, not having suffered any material damage.

The _Ione_, however, could nowhere be seen.  Struck by the squall, she
might either have been dismasted or have capsized.  In the former case
it was very probable that she might fall into the hands of the enemy;
but, much as the captain desired it, he could not return to her
assistance.

Night came on, and the gale increased, the big ship tumbling and rolling
about almost as much as she would have done in the Atlantic, so rapidly
did the sea get up.  It took some time to get everything snug, but as
the ship was at a considerable distance from the land, no great anxiety
was felt for her safety.

In the morning the master reported that by his calculation they were
about thirteen leagues south-east of Cape Saint Sebastian, on the
Spanish coast.

The wind had fallen with almost the same rapidity with which it had
risen, but there was still a good deal of sea on.  It had now shifted.
The first lieutenant was officer of the watch, and was superintending
the operation of washing decks.

Rayner, and another midshipman, also with bare feet and trousers tucked
up, were paddling about, directing the men in their various duties.

Our hero had just came aft, and was addressing Mr Saltwell, when the
latter looking forward, suddenly exclaimed, "What can that smoke be?
Run and see where it comes from!"

As Rayner hurried forward he observed a thick volume of smoke rising out
of the fore-hatchway, and immediately afterwards a similar ominous cloud
ascended from the main hatchway.  Before he had made a step aft to
report this he saw Mr Saltwell hastening forward.

The next moment the cry of "Fire!" was raised, and the people came
rushing up the hatchway in the midst of volumes of smoke ascending from
the orlop deck.

"Rayner, go and inform the captain what has occurred," said Mr
Saltwell, in a calm tone.  "Let the drum beat to quarters!" he shouted.

The rolling sound of the drum was soon heard along the decks, and the
men, springing from all parts of the ship, hurried to their respective
stations, where they stood, ready for their orders.

Not a cry was heard.  Not an expression of alarm escaped from one of the
men.  Scarcely a word was spoken as they stood prepared to do their
duty.

Summoning the gunner and the boatswain, the first lieutenant ordered the
former to open the ports, to give light and air below, and the latter to
pipe up the hammocks.  He then ascended to the orlop deck, made his way
first into one tier, then into another, in both of which he found the
smoke issuing exceedingly thick from forward.  He was now joined by the
second lieutenant and Rayner.

"We'll just go into the sail-room and ascertain if the fire is there,"
he said.

On reaching it, there was no appearance of fire or smoke.  It was thus
evident that the seat of the fire was farther forward.  He and his
companions next proceeded to the hold, but the dense smoke compelled
them to beat a retreat, as their throats became affected as if from the
fumes of hot tar.  A second attempt to reach the hold was equally
unsuccessful.  The entire absence of heat, however, convinced them that
the fire could not be in that part of the ship, but that the smoke found
its way through the bulkheads.

They were returning on deck, when a cry was raised that the fire was
down forward.

"I alone will go!" said Mr Saltwell.  "Not a life must be risked
without necessity.  Remain, and render me any assistance I may require."

Having descended to the orlop deck, he was attempting to go down into
the cockpit, when several men rushed by him, crying out that the fire
was increasing.  He endeavoured to retreat, but would have fallen before
he reached the deck, had not the second lieutenant and Rayner, springing
forward, assisted him up, and the next moment he sank down, apparently
lifeless.

It was some minutes before the fresh air revived him.

Two poor fellows were suffocated by the smoke rolling in dense volumes
along the lower deck, and others were rescued half dead by their
shipmates.

Some short time was of necessity lost while the captain and master and
the lieutenants were holding a consultation as to what was to be done.

In the meantime, Rayner, seeing the importance of discovering the seat
of the fire, resolved at every risk to make the attempt.  Without
telling any of the officers of his intention, he called on Ben Twinch
and Jack and Tom, whom he met on his way, to accompany him, and to bring
a long rope with him.  On reaching the hatchway he fastened the end
round his waist.

"Haul me up if you find it becomes slack," he said.  "You'll know then
that I am not able to get on."

"Don't go, sir! don't go!" cried Jack.  "It won't matter to any one if I
get choked, but so many would be sorry if anything happened to you."

"I'll tell you what it is, Mr Rayner," exclaimed Ben; "no man who
hasn't been down to the bottom of Stromboli or down Etna will be able to
live two minutes in the cockpit, and I cannot help you, sir, to throw
your life away.  The ship's on fire somewhere forward, and what we've
got to do is to pump the water over it, and try and put it out.  If we
can't do that, we must shut down the hatches, and see if we can't
smother it."

Rayner was not inclined to listen to this well-meant and really
judicious advice, but rushing forward, was attempting to make his way
down the ladder.  Scarcely, however, had he descended three or four
steps, when the smoke filling his mouth and nostrils, he would have
fallen headlong down had not Ben and Jack hauled him up again, almost in
the same condition as Mr Saltwell had been.

"I told you so, sir," said Ben, as he carried him out of the way of the
hose, which now began to play over the spot, under the direction of Mr
Saltwell.  The water, however, seemed to make no impression on the fire,
or in any way to lessen the volumes of smoke, which, on the contrary,
became thicker and thicker.

The men who were directing the hose were compelled to retire.  The
carpenters had, in the meantime, been engaged in scuttling the orlop
deck, so that water might be poured down in great quantities.  All their
efforts were of no avail, however.

In a short time the first lieutenant was heard issuing his orders to
cover in the hatchways, and to close the ports, so as to prevent the
circulation of air.

With a sad heart Mr Saltwell now went on deck to report to the captain
what had been done.  He spoke in a low and earnest tone.

"I am afraid, Captain Martin, that we cannot hope to save the ship," he
said; "the fire may be kept under for an hour or perhaps two hours, but
if it once makes its way through the hatchways and gets to the lower
decks, there is nothing to stop it.  I would strongly advise that the
boats should at once be got ready, so that as many lives as possible may
be preserved."

"Were we to do that, the people would immediately fancy that the
destruction of the ship is certain, and abandon themselves to despair,"
said the captain.

"I know our men, and can answer for their doing their duty," replied Mr
Saltwell, with confidence.  "If we delay getting out the boats, we may
find it impossible to do so at last, and the lives of all on board may
be sacrificed.  We can trust to the marines, and give them directions to
prevent any of the men getting into the boats until you issue the order
for them to do so."

"You are right, Saltwell; send the sergeant of marines here," said the
captain.

The sergeant quickly appeared and stood bolt upright, with his hand to
the peak of his hat, as if on parade, ready to receive any orders which
might be given.

"Call out your men, and understand that they are to load with ball and
shoot any of the seamen who get into the boats without orders."

The sergeant, saluting, faced about, as if going to perform some
ordinary routine of duty, and, quickly mustering his marines, stationed
them as directed.  The first lieutenant now gave orders to the boatswain
to turn the hands up, and as soon as they appeared on deck, he shouted,
"Out boats! but understand, my lads, that not one of you is to enter
them without leave.  The marines have received orders to shoot the first
man who attempts to do so, though you do not require to be told that."

The crew hastened to the tackles and falls, and with the most perfect
regularity the boats were lowered into the water when they were veered
astern and secured for towing.  The helm was now put down, the yards
braced up, and the ship's head directed to the north-west, in which
direction the land lay, though not visible from the deck.

The crew knew by this that the captain and officers considered the ship
to be in great danger, and at the same time it encouraged them to
persevere in their attempts to keep the fire under.  They had some hopes
also of falling in with the _Ione_ or by firing the guns to attract her
attention, should she be within hearing of them.

As the boats, however, would not carry the whole ship's company, the
captain directed the carpenter and his mates to get the booms overboard
for the purpose of constructing a raft large enough to support those
whom the boats could not carry.

As it was now evident, from the increasing volumes of smoke which
ascended through the hatchways, that the fire was working its way aft,
although the flames had not yet burst out, it became of the greatest
importance to get the powder out of the magazine.  For this purpose the
second lieutenant descended with a party of men, and succeeded in
bringing up a considerable quantity, which was stowed in the stern
gallery.  All the other hands, not otherwise employed, were engaged
under the different officers in heaving water down the hatchways; but
the smoke increased to such a degree that they were compelled to desist,
several who persevered falling senseless on the deck.  The powder which
had been got up being hove into the sea, the captain gave the order to
drown the magazine.  The difficulty of accomplishing this task was,
however, very great, and the second lieutenant and gunner, with several
of the men, were drawn up, apparently lifeless, after making the
attempt.  Lieutenant Saltwell now again descended to the after cockpit,
where he found one man alone still persevering in the hazardous duty--
Ben Twinch, boatswain's mate.

"A few more buckets, and we'll do it, sir!" cried Ben; but almost
immediately afterwards he sank down exhausted.

The lieutenant, singing out for a rope, fastened it round him, though
feeling that he himself would be overpowered before the gallant seaman
could be drawn up.  He succeeded, however, and once more returned to the
deck above.  Still, he knew that a large quantity of powder remained
dry, and that should the fire reach the magazine, the destruction of all
on board would be inevitable.  Although gasping for breath, he was about
again to descend, when a light, active figure, with a rope round his
waist, darted passed him, and he recognised Rayner.  He was about to
follow, when he heard the voice of the midshipman shouting, "Haul me up,
quick!"

The next instant Rayner was drawn up, too much exhausted to speak.  He
had succeeded in drowning a portion of the powder; but a quantity
remained, sufficient at any moment to blow the ship into the air.

Although no human being could exist between the decks forward, the
after-part of the lower deck remained free from smoke.  In the hopes of
getting at the magazine, the carpenter was directed to cut scuttles
through the ward-room, and gun-room, so as to get down right above it.
By keeping all the doors closed, the smoke was prevented from entering,
and at length it was found that the powder could be drawn, up and hove
overboard out of the gallery windows.  Several of the officers
volunteered for this dangerous duty.  Rayner, notwithstanding that he
had just before escaped suffocation, again twice descended, and was each
time drawn up more dead than alive.  Several hours had now gone by, and
the wind providentially holding fair, the ship was nearing the land.
Meantime, the fire was fast gaining on them, and might at any moment
triumph over all the heroic efforts of the crew to subdue it.  The heat
below was intense.  The first lieutenant, going forward, found that the
hatches had been blown off, as also the tarpaulins placed over the
gratings.  As it was of the greatest importance to keep them on, he
directed the carpenter, with as many men as could be obtained, to
replace them, while he returned once more aft, to superintend the
operation of getting up the powder.

Although hitherto none of the men had attempted to shirk their duty,
greatly to his annoyance he saw, on looking out of the ward-room
windows, the stern ladders covered with people, who fancied that they
would there be more secure, and escape discovery.

At once bursting open a window he ordered them all up, and directed
Rayner to go and see that they made their appearance on deck.  Among one
of the first who came creeping up, our hero discovered his former
messmate Tom Fletcher.

"You people have disgraced yourselves.  Fletcher, I am sorry to have to
say the same to you," he exclaimed.

It was the first time he had ever openly found fault with his former
companion, but his feelings compelled him to utter the words.

Tom, and the whole of the men who had been on the ladders, sneaked away
on either side, ashamed, at all events, of being found out, and still
looking with longing eyes at the boats astern.  Every now and then a
seaman was brought aft and placed under the doctor's care, but of the
number four were found to be past recovery, and it seemed doubtful
whether several others would revive.

The greater portion of the crew, under the direction of the officers,
were vieing with each other, trying to keep down the flames.

The wind shifted a point or two more in their favour.  The captain
immediately ordered the hands aloft, to set the topgallant sails and
royals.

Seven anxious hours had passed, when while the men were still aloft, the
cry arose, "Land, land, on the weather bow!"

The men on deck cheered at the announcement.  In a short time it could
be observed through the haze right ahead.  The sight, though the land
was still five leagues distant, revived the sinking spirits of the crew,
and spurred them on to greater exertions.  Still, notwithstanding all
their efforts, the fire rapidly increased.  Again and again efforts were
made to clear the magazine, but the smoke as often drove the men back.
By this time the whole of the fore part of the lower deck was on fire,
but owing to the ports being closed and all circulation of air
prevented, the flames did not rise with the rapidity which would
otherwise have been the case.  The fear was that, the heels of the masts
being consumed by the fire, the masts themselves might fall.

Still they stood right gallantly, carrying their widespread canvas, and
urging on the ship to the wished-for shore.

By this time all communication with the fore part of the ship was cut
off.  The crew were gathered aft, still actively employed in fighting
the flames by heaving down water.  But foot by foot they were driven
towards the stern.

At length the devouring element burst through all control, and rushed up
the fore-hatchway, rising triumphantly as high as the foreyard.  Yet the
ship kept on her way.

The men remained firm to their duty.  Now, not only from the fore, but
from the main hatchway, the flames were seen to ascend, but for some
time, the courses having been thoroughly wetted, they stood still urging
on the ship towards the land.

Time went on.  The fire had commenced at seven in the morning, it was
now several hours past noon.  For all that period the crew had been
fighting desperately with the fiery element for their lives.  Anxiously,
with straining eyes, they gazed at the land.  On either side a dark mass
of smoke ascended before them, and blew away to leeward, while the lurid
flames rose beneath it, striving furiously for victory over the masts
and spars, sails and rigging.  It seemed like a miracle that the masts
should stand in the midst of the hot furnace which glowed far down the
depths of the ship.  All were aware that at any moment one of several
fearful events might occur.  The wind might shift and prevent the ship
reaching the land ahead, or a gale might spring up and cast the ship
helplessly upon the rocks, or a calm might come on and delay her
progress, or the masts, burnt through, might fall and crush those on
deck, or, still more dreadful, a spark might reach the magazine, and her
immediate destruction must follow.

Still the officers and crew strove on, though they well knew that no
human power could extinguish the raging flames, which with sullen roar
came nearer and nearer to where they stood.

An alarm was given that the mizenmast was on fire in the captain's
cabin, and as Rayner looked over the side, he could see the flames burst
out of the lee ports.  The guns had not been loaded, but there was no
necessity to fire signals of distress.  The condition of the ship could
be seen from far along the shore, and it was hoped that boats would, as
she drew near, put off to her assistance.

The master, some time before, had brought up a chart on deck, and now
pointed out to his brother officers the exact spot towards which the
ship was steering.  It was the Bay of Rosas.  Already the ship was
entering between two capes which formed its northern and southern sides.
The captain stood in the midst of his officers and men, gathered on
deck, for every place below was filled with smoke, and, except in the
after-part of the ship, the raging flames had gained full mastery.

His wish had been to reach the shore before any one quitted the ship; he
now saw that to do this was impossible.

"My lads," he said, "I am about to order up the boats.  You have
hitherto maintained your discipline; let me see that you are ready to
obey orders to the last.  And now we'll have the raft overboard, which
will carry every man who cannot be stowed in the boats, even if the
Spaniards don't come out to help us.  Lower away."

It was no easy matter to perform this operation, with the fire raging
uncontrolled not many feet off, almost scorching the backs of the men
standing nearest it.

A cheer announced that it had safely reached the water, when the
carpenter and his crew, with a few additional hands, were ordered on to
it, to secure the booms on either side, so as to increase its power of
supporting a heavy weight.

Scarcely had this been done, and the launch ordered up under the stern,
than the ship struck and remained immovable, though nearly a mile from
the shore.  Then the tall masts seemed to sway to and fro as if they
were about to fall, though it might only have been fancy.

The marines, who had faithfully performed their duty, were stationed on
either side, while the sick and several of the wounded were lowered into
the launch.  The boys and younger midshipmen were next directed to go
down the ladder, and the other men were told off.  The two yawls and
jolly-boat being hauled up, were then loaded with as many as they could
carry.

"May I stay by you, sir?" asked Rayner of Mr Saltwell.

"No, Rayner," answered the first lieutenant; "you have done your duty
well this day, and I cannot allow you to risk your life by remaining a
moment longer than is necessary.  We cannot tell when the ship may blow
up.  It may be before the captain and I quit her.  I order you to go."

Rayner obeyed and descended into one of the yawls.  Looking towards the
shore he saw several boats coming off.  He pointed them out to the
officer in command of the launch.  "Tell them to come under the stern of
the ship and take off the remainder of the crew," said the lieutenant.

While the yawl was pulling towards the Spanish boats, he looked round to
the ship.  Already it appeared as if the flames were rushing from every
port, while they were rising higher and higher, forming a vast pyramid
of fire, as circling round and round the masts they caught hold of the
canvas and rigging, and seized the spars in their embrace.

He urged the crew to pull with all their strength, that they might the
sooner return to the assistance of their friends.  The Spanish boats
were reached, but in vain he endeavoured to persuade their crews to come
near the burning ship.  They were ready enough to receive on board the
people in the yawl, but not to risk their lives by approaching her.

One of the officers could speak a little Spanish, and Rayner tried his
French upon them, endeavouring to persuade them, and at length
threatening condign punishment if they refused.  But nothing that could
be said had any effect.  Time was precious, so, putting the men from the
crowded yawl into one of the boats, Rayner, who took charge of her,
urging the men to pull with all their might steered back for the ship.
From the position in which the boat was, between her head and the shore,
she appeared already to be one mass of flame.  It seemed impossible
indeed that any human being could still be alive on board.  Pulling
round, however, so as to approach the stern, Rayner saw that the after
portion still remained free from flame, though the crew, as if they knew
that there was no time to be lost, were not only descending the ladders,
but sliding rapidly down the ropes hanging over the taffrail on to the
raft.  They had good reason for doing so, for he could see the ruddy
light even through the stern windows, and from every port, except the
extreme after ones, the flames were rushing out.

Three figures alone stood on the poop; they were those of the captain,
the first lieutenant, and master, who had maintained their perilous
position until every living man was out of the ship.

Remembering the remark Mr Saltwell had made just before he had quitted
the ship, Rayner again urged on his well-nigh exhausted crew to pull up
and rescue their brave officers.  The raft was crowded with men.  The
shout rose, "Shove off! shove off!" and with broken spars and pieces of
board, those on it were endeavouring to make their way to a distance
from the side of the ship.

Rayner steered his boat under the stern.  The master was the first to
descend, Mr Saltwell came next, and the captain was the last to leave
her.

"Pull away, Rayner," he said, in a calm voice.  "We have reason to be
thankful to Providence that she has not blown up yet, for at any moment
the fire may reach the magazine, and there is still powder enough, I
understand, to send the fragments far around."

The first yawl having received on board several people from the land,
took the raft in tow.  In a short time the other boats returned, having
placed the people they carried in the Spanish boats, several of which
also arrived, though they lost not a moment in pulling again towards the
shore, as far as they could from the burning ship.

The captain directed Rayner to keep astern of the other boats.  His eye
rested on his ship as if he desired to see her as long as she existed.
The moment of her destruction came at last.  The rest of the crew having
landed, the yawl was nearing the shore, when a loud roar was heard as if
a whole broadside had been fired.  The flames rose high in the air; the
masts shot upwards surrounded by burning fragments of planks and
timbers; the stout sides, rent asunder, rushed outwards, and in another
minute a few blackened fragments of the gallant ship, which had that
morning floated trim and proudly on the ocean, were alone visible.

Captain Martin looked sad and grave as he stepped on shore; but he felt
that he, as well as his officers, had done their duty, and had made
every possible effort to preserve the ship.  Neither he nor they could
discover the cause of the fire.

Fortunately, England had not then declared war against Spain, and the
authorities received the British officers and men in a friendly manner,
while many of the inhabitants of the neighbouring town vied with each
other in rendering them all the service in their power.



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

A NARROW ESCAPE--HOME--AN ACTION SUDDENLY ENDED.

The morning after the day they landed in Spain, Rayner had gone down to
the beach with Mr Saltwell, who wanted, he said, to have another look
at the remains of the old barkie.  The midshipman was examining the
black ribs of the wreck appearing above water through the telescope
which the lieutenant had lent him, when the latter exclaimed, "Do you
see a sail away to the south-east?"

The sun glanced for a moment on her canvas.

"Yes, sir," answered Rayner.  "She's a large craft, too, for I can only
just see her royals rising above the horizon.  She's standing in this
direction."

"Hand me the glass," said Mr Saltwell.  "You are right, youngster," he
continued, looking through it.  "I only hope that she may be one of our
own cruisers, but it will be some time before that point can be
decided."

After watching the approaching stranger for some time the lieutenant and
midshipman returned with the intelligence to the farm-house where the
captain and several of the other officers were quartered.

Hoping that she might be the _Ione_, Captain Martin ordered the first
yawl to be got ready to go off to her.  The crew were then mustered.
Eight did not answer to their names.  It was known how five had died,
but what had become of the other three?  At length it was whispered
among the men that they had managed to get drinking the previous night,
and had fallen below, stupefied by the smoke.

The men having breakfasted, the greater number hurried down to the shore
to have a look at the stranger, now approaching under all sail.

Three cheers were uttered as the flag of England flew out at her peak.
The captain immediately ordered Mr Sterling to pull off to her, and to
request that his officers and ship's company might be received on board.

"You will make sure before you get near that she is English," he
whispered.  "The Frenchman may have a fancy to take some Spaniards
prisoners, and would be better pleased to get hold of you."

Rayner went as midshipman of the boat, which made good way towards the
frigate now lying hove-to about three miles from the shore.

"What do you think of her, Noakes?" asked the lieutenant of the
coxswain, as they got nearer.

The old seaman took a steady glance at the stranger, surveying her from
truck to water-line.

"If she doesn't carry a British crew, the Frenchmen must have got hold
of her since we parted company three days ago, and I don't think that's
likely, or there would be not a few shot-holes in her canvas, and a
pretty good sprinkling in her hull, too," he answered, in a confident
tone.  "She's the _Ione_, sir, or I don't know a frigate from a Dutch
dogger."

Now certain that there was no mistake, Mr Sterling steered for the
frigate.  Pulling alongside, he and Rayner stepped on board.  Captain
Dickson, with most of his officers, were on deck.

"Where is your ship?" was the first question the captain asked of the
lieutenant.

"There is all that remains of her," answered Mr Sterling, pointing to
the blackened ribs of the ship, which could be distinguished through a
telescope near the shore; and he gave an account of what had happened.

Due regrets at the occurrence having been expressed, Captain Dickson
saying that he had been induced to stand into the bay in consequence of
hearing the sound of the explosion, at once ordered out all the boats,
and in a few minutes they were pulling for the shore, accompanied by the
yawl.

The _Ione_, meantime, was standing in somewhat nearer, to be ready to
receive the crew of the store-ship on board.

No time was lost in embarking, and it was with intense satisfaction that
Captain Martin and those under him found themselves again on the deck of
an English frigate.

Sail was at once made for Gibraltar, Malta not having at that time been
taken possession of by the English.  As the two ships' companies had to
be stowed away below, they were compelled to pack pretty closely, but no
one minded that, as they expected a speedy passage to the Rock, while
the officers and crew of the store-ship hoped immediately to be sent
back to England.

It is too true a saying that "There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the
lip."  The _Ione_ was about midway between the Spanish coast and
Majorca, when, as morning broke, a number of ships were seen standing
out from the direction of Minorca.  At first it was supposed that they
were part of the English fleet, but after two of the lieutenants had
taken a careful survey of them from aloft, it was decided that they were
French.

"They have seen us, and guess what we are," observed Captain Dickson to
his brother captain.  "See, here come two frigates in chase.  Turn the
hands up and make sail!" he added, addressing the first lieutenant.

The crew were quickly aloft, and every stitch of canvas the _Ione_ could
set was packed upon her.  There was no disgrace in running from so
superior a force.  The _Ione_ was considered a good sailer, but the
Frenchmen showed that they were still faster.  Captain Dickson, however,
had no intention of yielding his ship as long as he had a stick standing
to escape with.  Full of men as he now was, he hoped to beat off both
his foes, though he could not expect to capture them in sight of an
enemy's squadron.  As they got nearer, a couple of guns were trained aft
to serve as stern chasers, and every preparation was made to fight for
life and liberty.

Another frigate and two line-of-battle ships were seen standing after
the first, but they were so far astern, that should the _Ione_ keep
ahead, without having her masts and spars shot away, there might still
be hopes of her escaping.

British seamen seldom wish to avoid a fight, but on the present occasion
few on board were such fire-eaters as not to hope that they might keep
well ahead of their foes.

The two frigates were rapidly gaining on the _Ione_; another half-hour,
or even less, and she would be within range of their guns.  To hit her,
however, they would have to yaw, and this would enable her to gain on
them, while she could fire without altering her course.

Jack and Tom every now and then got a glimpse of the enemy through the
ports.

"I say, Jack, it isn't fair of those two fellows out there to be chasing
us after all we have gone through.  I was hoping to go home and see my
father, and ask him to get me placed on the quarter-deck.  I shouldn't
like to be killed till I've been made a midshipman--not that I should
like it then."

"Don't you be talking nonsense about being made a midshipman.  You've
about as much chance as you have of being made port-admiral off-hand,"
answered Jack, with more temper than he generally showed.  "Of course
you don't want to be killed--no more do I; but we must both be ready
should it be God's will to call us in the way of duty."

At length the drum beat to quarters, by which the men knew that the
captain expected before long to be engaged in a fierce fight.

Rayner was at his station forward, but he could still see what was
taking place astern.  Presently the frigates yawed.  Two flashes were
seen, and the low, booming sound of a couple of guns came across the
ocean.

"We're not quite within range of the mounseers' popguns yet," observed
the boatswain, with a laugh.  "They must come closer before they can
harm us."

"Do you think we can beat them off?" asked Rayner.

"You may be very sure that we'll try pretty hard to do so," answered the
boatswain, in a confident tone.  "I've heard of your doings aboard the
_Thisbe_.  We'll show you that the crew of the _Ione_ are made of the
same stuff."

As the two Frenchmen drew nearer, the desire of the British sailors to
fight increased, and it was with a feeling of almost bitter
disappointment, just as the _Ione_ had fired her stern chasers, that the
enemy were seen to haul their tacks aboard, in answer, apparently, to
the signals made by the ships astern.

The general opinion was that the British fleet had appeared to the
eastward.  Whether or not this was the case it was impossible to say.

The _Ione_ continued her course, and in a short time ran the enemy out
of sight.  On her arrival at Gibraltar, the first intelligence Mr
Saltwell received was that he had been promoted to the rank of
commander.

The very next day two ships came in from the fleet with despatches,
which the _Ione_ was directed to carry immediately to England.

As they were both short of hands, much to Captain Martin's annoyance, a
considerable number of his men were drafted on board them.  Had other
ships come in, he would probably have lost many more.  The _Ione_ sailed
immediately with the remainder, and he hoped that they would form the
nucleus of a new crew for the _Thisbe_.

The _Ione_ had a quick passage to Plymouth.  On his arrival there, much
to his disappointment, Captain Martin found that the _Thisbe_ was not
yet ready for sea.

Rayner was considering how to dispose of himself during the intermediate
time.  He did not expect that Mrs Crofton would offer him a room, but
he wished, at all events, to pay her and Mary a visit, as they had
always shown so friendly a feeling towards him.  When, however, she
heard how he was situated, she insisted that he should take up his
quarters with them.

"I do not require any payment, as I have no other lodger at present, and
I am only too glad to have you," she said, in a kind tone.

Rayner thanked her very warmly, and accepted her offer.

"I daresay Captain Saltwell will come and see us as soon as he has time.
I was delighted to hear that he had obtained his promotion, and I hope,
Mr Rayner, that you will soon get yours.  You have surely served long
enough to pass for a mate, and I would advise you to apply at once, that
you may be ready for your lieutenancy."

"I am afraid that I should have but little chance of passing, but I'll
try," said Rayner.  "I am told the examinations are very stiff.  If a
midshipman doesn't answer every question put to him, he is turned back
immediately."

"At all events, go in and try, and take a testimonial from Captain
Saltwell," said Mrs Crofton, who had heard something of the way
examinations were conducted in those days.

Rayner found, on inquiry, that, fortunately, a board was to sit the very
next day, and, meeting Captain Saltwell, he mentioned his intention.

"The very thing I was going to advise," was the answer.  "I'll write a
letter to Captain Cranston, and you can take it with you."

Next morning Rayner presented himself on board the flagship, where he
found several other midshipmen ready to go up.  First one, and then
another, was sent for, and came back with smiling faces.  At last one,
who certainly did not look as if he would set the Thames on fire, went
in.  In a short time he reappeared, grumbling and complaining that it
was very hard a fellow who had been at sea six years should be turned
back.

Rayner's turn came next.  Comparatively but a few questions were asked
in navigation.  He had no difficulty in answering those put to him in
seamanship.  At last, Captain Cranston, knitting his brow, and looking
very serious, said--

"Now, Mr Rayner, supposing the ship you are in charge of is caught on a
lee shore with a hurricane blowing, and you find yourself embayed; what
would you do?"

"If there was holding ground, I should let go the best bower, and make
all snug aloft."

"But suppose the best bower is carried away?"

"I should let go the second bower, sir."

"But suppose you lose that?" asked the captain, looking still more
serious.

"I should cut away the masts and bring up with my sheet anchor."

"But in the event of losing that, Mr Rayner, how would you next
proceed?"

"I should have done all that a man can do, and should look out for the
most suitable place for running the ship ashore."

"But, suppose you could find no suitable place, Mr Rayner?"

"Then, sir, I should let her find one for herself, and make the best
preparations time would allow for saving the lives of her people, when
she struck."

"I have the pleasure to inform you, Mr Rayner, that you have passed
your examination very creditably," said Captain Cranston, handing him
his papers.

Rayner, thanking the captain, and bowing, made his exit.  On afterwards
comparing notes with the midshipman who had been turned back, he
mentioned the question which had been put to him.

"Why, that's the very one he asked me," said his companion.  "I told him
I would club-haul the ship, and try all sorts of manoeuvres to beat out
of the bay, and would not on any account let her go ashore."

"I'm not surprised that you were turned back, old fellow," observed
Rayner, with a laugh.

On returning on shore he met Commander Saltwell.  "I congratulate you,
Rayner," he said.  "I have just received orders to commission the _Lily_
sloop-of-war, and I will apply to have you with me.  By-the-bye, where
are you going to put up?"

"Mrs Crofton has asked me to go to her house, and as I thought that you
would have no objection, I accepted her offer, sir," answered Rayner.

"I am glad to hear it; the very best thing you could do," said Commander
Saltwell.  "Though many would prefer the freedom of an inn, I admire
your good taste in taking advantage of the opportunity offered you to
pass your time in the society of refined, right-minded persons like Mrs
Crofton and her daughter."

Our hero spent a few happy days with the kind widow and Mary, who both
evidently took a warm interest in his welfare.  It was the first time he
had been living on shore, except during his sojourn in France, since he
first went to sea.  He was introduced to some of the few friends they
possessed, and he made several pleasant excursions with them to visit
some of the beautiful scenery in the neighbourhood of Plymouth.  His
observation, unknown to himself, enabled him rapidly to adapt himself to
the manners of people of education, and no one would have recognised in
the gentlemanly young midshipman the powder monkey of a short time back.
It was with more regret than he supposed he could possibly have felt
that he received a summons to join the _Lily_, now fitting out with all
despatch for the West Indies.  Though he no longer belonged to the
_Thisbe_, it was with much sorrow that he heard she was pronounced unfit
for sea, and that her crew had been dispersed.  He made inquiries for
Jack and Tom.  The former, he discovered, had gone to pay his mother a
visit; but, though he searched for Tom, he could nowhere hear of him.

The day after he had joined the _Lily_, he was well pleased to see Jack
come on board.

"I found out, sir, that you belonged to the corvette, as I thought you
would when I heard that Mr Saltwell was appointed to command her," said
Jack; "so, sir, I made up my mind to volunteer for her, if I could
escape being pressed before I got back to Plymouth."

"I am glad to see you, Peek," said our hero.  "Have you heard anything
of Tom Fletcher?"

"Well, sir, I'm sorry to say I have," answered Jack.  "He has been
knocking about Plymouth, hiding away from the press-gangs in all sorts
of places, instead of going home to his father, as he said he would.  I
only found him last night, and tried to persuade him to join the _Lily_
with me, but he'd still a shiner or two in his locker, and he couldn't
make up his mind to come till the last had gone.  I know where to find
him, and I'll try again after I have entered on board the _Lily_."

"Do so," said Rayner.  "He may be better off with a friend like you to
look after him than left to himself."

Rayner had the satisfaction of seeing Jack rated as an A.B.  Several of
the _Thisbe's_ crew had joined the _Lily_, and besides them Ben Twinch,
who, owing to Captain Martin's recommendation, had been raised to the
rank of warrant officer, was appointed to her as boatswain.

"Very glad to be with you again, Mr Rayner," said honest Ben; "and I
hope before the ship is paid off to see you one of her lieutenants.  We
are likely to have a good ship's company; and I am glad to say my
brother warrant officers, Mr Coles the gunner, and Mr Jenks the
carpenter, are men who can be trusted."

Rayner's own messmates were all strangers.  The first lieutenant, Mr
Horrocks, a red-faced man, with curly whiskers, and as stiff as a poker,
had not much the cut of a naval officer; while the second lieutenant,
Mr Lascelles, who was delicate, refined, young, and good-looking,
offered a great contrast to him.

They were both not only civil but kind to Rayner, of whom Commander
Saltwell had spoken highly to them.

Jack had been twice on shore to look out for Tom, and had returned
saying that he could not persuade him to come on board.

At last, when the ship was almost ready for sea, being still some hands
short of her complement, Rayner obtained leave for Jack, with two other
men who could be trusted to try and bring him off, and any others they
could pick up.

Late in the evening a shore boat came off with several men in her, and
Jack made his appearance on deck, where Rayner was doing duty as mate of
the watch.

"I have brought him, sir, though he does not exactly know where he is
coming to," said Jack.

"I found him with his pockets emptied and the landlady of the house
where he was lodging about to turn him out of doors.  We managed to
bring him along, sir, however, and to-morrow morning, when he comes to
his senses, I have no doubt he'll be thankful to enter."

"I'm glad to hear you've got him safe at last, and I know you'll look
after him," said Rayner.

Next morning Tom, not knowing that Rayner was on board, or how he
himself came there, entered as an ordinary seaman, which placed him in
an inferior position to Jack Peek, who might soon, from his activity and
good conduct, be raised to the rank of a petty officer.

Our hero paid a last visit to Mrs Crofton and Mary, promising, as they
asked him to do, to write whenever he could obtain an opportunity.

At length the _Lily_, a fine corvette, carrying twenty guns on a flush
deck and a complement of one hundred and twenty men, was ready for sea.

On going down the Sound she found the _Latona_, which ship she was to
assist in convoying a fleet of merchantmen brought up in Cawsand Bay.

As the men-of-war approached, the merchant vessels, to the number of
nearly fifty, got under way and stood down Channel.  It was pretty hard
work to keep them together, and the corvette was employed in continually
firing signals to urge on the laggers, or to prevent the faster craft
from running out of sight.  What with shortening and making sail and
signalling, together with getting a newly commissioned ship into trim,
the time of all on board was pretty well occupied, and Rayner had no
opportunity of learning anything about Tom Fletcher.  A bright look-out
was kept on every side, for an enemy might at any moment appear,
especially at night, when it was possible some daring privateer might
pounce down and attempt to carry off one of the merchantmen, just as a
hawk picks off a hapless chicken from a brood watched over so carefully
by the hen.

The wind was fair, the sea calm, and the traders bound for Jamaica
safely reached Port Royal harbour, the remainder being convoyed to the
other islands by the _Latona_ and _Lily_, which were afterwards to be
sent to cruise in search of the enemy's privateers.  Our hero had not
forgotten Tom Fletcher, but watched in the hopes of doing him a service
Jack's report of him had not been favourable.  He had talked of going
home to his father, and had plenty of money in his pocket to do so, but
instead of that he had gone to dancing-houses and similar places
resorted to by seamen, where his money rapidly disappeared.  He might
have fallen into the docks, or died in the streets, had not Jack found
him and brought him on board the _Lily_.  For some neglect of duty his
leave had been stopped, and, fortunately for himself, he was not allowed
to go on shore at Port Royal when the ship put in there.  Tom, however,
still avoided Rayner, who had no opportunity, unless he expressly sent
to speak to him, to give him a word of advice or encouragement.

Jack, who was really the best friend he had in the ship, did his utmost
to keep him out of mischief.

"It's all very fine for you to talk that way," answered Tom, when one
day Jack had been giving him a lecture.  "You got rated as an able
seaman, and now have been made captain of the mizen-top, too, and will,
I suppose, before long, get another step; and here am I sticking where I
was.  It's no fault of mine, that I can see.  I'll cut and run if I have
the chance, for I cannot bear to see others placed over my head, as you
and Bill Rayner have been, and to see him walking the quarter-deck in a
brand new uniform, and talking to the officers as friendly and easy as
if he had been born among them, while I, a gentleman's son, remain a
foremast man, with every chance of being one to the end of my days."

"There's no use grumbling, Tom; all you have to think about is to do
your duty with smartness, keep sober, and to avoid doing anything wrong,
and with your education, which I wish I had, you are sure to get on."

There is an old saying that it is useless to try and make a silk purse
out of a sow's ear.  It is to be seen whether Tom Fletcher was like the
sow's ear.

Soon after the _Lily_ left Jamaica she fell in with the _Ariel_.  As a
calm came on while they were in company, the officers of the two ships
paid visits to each other.  Rayner, recollecting that Mary Crofton's
brother Oliver was serving in her, got leave to go on board, for the
purpose of making his acquaintance.  He was much disappointed, on
inquiring for him, to learn that he had been sent away a few days
before, in charge of a prize, a brig called the _Clerie_, with orders to
take her to Jamaica.

"She ought to have arrived before you left there," observed the
midshipman who told him this.

"How provoking that I should have missed him, though I do not think any
such vessel came in while we were there," answered Rayner.  "His mother
and sister are great friends of mine."

"They must be nice people if they are like him, for Oliver Crofton is a
capital fellow.  He is as kind-hearted and even-tempered as he is brave
and good-looking, and he is a favourite with all on board."

"I am glad to hear that, though it makes me the more sorry that we
should have missed each other, but I hope before long to fall in with
him," observed Rayner.

A breeze springing up, the officers retired to their respective vessels,
and the _Lily_ and _Ariel_ parted company, the former rejoining the
frigate.  While off Antigua, the wind being from the eastward, the
frigate made the signal of three strange sail to the south-west, and
directly afterwards to give chase.

All the canvas they could carry was set.  In a short time one of the
strangers was seen to haul up to the northward, and the _Lily_ was
ordered to go in pursuit of her.  She was apparently the smallest of the
three, but was still likely to prove no mean antagonist.  As the _Lily_
appeared to be gaining on her, the commander gave the order to prepare
for action.  The frigate meantime was standing after the other two
vessels.  Before long her topsails, and finally her royals, disappeared
beneath the horizon.

"We shall have her all to ourselves, and we'll see how soon we can take
her," observed Mr Horrocks to the second lieutenant.  "It is some time
since you smelt powder, Lascelles."

"Last time I smelt a good deal of it, when we were beating off a ship
twice our size, and should have taken her, too, had she not gone down in
the night," answered the second lieutenant, in his usual quiet tone.  "I
got my promotion in consequence."

"And wrote an ode to victory, eh?" said Mr Horrocks, who was fond of
bantering his brother lieutenant on his fondness for poetry.

"And it was considered good," responded the young officer.

"You will have an opportunity of exercising your poetical talents before
long on the same subject, I hope," observed the first lieutenant.  "We
are gaining fast on the chase."

Just then the look-out from the mast-head shouted, "Sail on the
starboard bow!"

"Go and see what she is like," said the commander to Rayner.

Our hero hurried aloft, his telescope hanging by a strap at his back.
He was quickly joined by the second lieutenant.  They were of opinion
that she was a large craft, and that the object of the chase was to draw
the _Lily_ away from the frigate, so that the corvette might have two
opponents to contend with.

"We must manage to take her before she reaches the other, then we shall
have time to prepare for a second action," observed Mr Lascelles.

"Can she be the _Ariel_?" asked Rayner.  "She's very likely to be
cruising hereabouts."

Mr Lascelles took another look at her through his glass.

"I think not," he answered.  "The chase must have seen her, and must
know her to be a friend, or she would not keep on as she is at present
standing."

The two officers descended to make their report.

The _Lily_ was a fast craft, and now rapidly gained on the chase, which,
as she drew within range, fired a couple of shot.

Captain Saltwell ordered the two foremost guns to be fired in return.
The second lieutenant took charge of one and Rayner of the other.  Both,
looking along the sights, gave them the proper elevation, and fired at
the same moment.  The effect of the shot was beyond all expectation.
Down came the foreyard, shot away in the slings, causing, it was very
evident, considerable confusion on board.

"Bravo, Rayner! you did it!" cried Mr Lascelles.  "My shot went through
the mainsail."

The enemy now opened fire from a broadside of ten guns, but not a shot
damaged the _Lily_, which, ranging up on the weather side of her
opponent, began blazing away as fast as the crews could run in and load
their guns.

The stranger was a large flush-decked vessel, crowded with men, many of
whom, stripped to the waist, were working away desperately at their
guns, while others opened a heavy fire of musketry.

As Rayner, who had charge of the foremost guns, was watching her, he
caught sight of a young man in the uniform of a midshipman, who sprang
suddenly up through the companion-hatch, and, making his way aft, seemed
to be addressing the captain with energetic action.  Rayner got but a
glimpse of him, for the next moment there came a fearful roaring sound.
The deck of the enemy's ship rose in the air, rent into a thousand
fragments.  Her masts and yards and sails shot upwards, and her dark
hull seemed suddenly to melt away.

The _Lily_ reeled with the shock, and the crew, astounded by the awful
catastrophe, for a moment forgot their discipline.  Several of the men
were knocked down; indeed, it seemed surprising that any should have
escaped.  Rayner remained at his station, and although several pieces of
burning plank fell close to him, he was uninjured.

The voice of the commander was soon heard recalling the men to their
duty, and ordering them to fill the buckets with water, to prevent the
blazing fragments which strewed the deck from setting the ship on fire.



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A RESCUE.

While some of the crew were engaged on deck, others, led by the second
lieutenant, the boatswain, and Rayner, ascended the rigging with buckets
of water to heave over the sails, which in several places had caught
fire.

It was a work of extreme peril, but it was quickly accomplished, before
much damage had been done.  The ship all the time was standing on, her
starboard tacks aboard.

Nearly a quarter of an hour had elapsed before any one could look in the
direction where their late antagonist had floated.

A few dark fragments of wreck could alone be seen in the far distance,
but no one supposed that any human beings could have escaped from the
fearful catastrophe.  The _Lily_ was quickly put to rights and stood on
in chase of the stranger, which was now seen, under a press of sail,
standing away to the north-west.

Evening was approaching, and it was feared that if she wished to avoid
the risk of an engagement, she might manage to escape in the night.

During the first part of it the atmosphere was tolerably clear, and the
chase could dimly be seen in the distance.  She was carrying all sail,
evidently doing her best to escape.  The _Lily_ had all her canvas set,
but as at night a squall cannot be seen, as in the daytime, coming
across the ocean, all hands were kept on deck, ready to take it in at a
moment's notice.

"Are we gaining on the chase?" asked the commander, when the second
lieutenant, who had just before gone forward, returned.

"I think so, sir; but unless the breeze freshens, it will be a long time
before we can get her within range of our guns."

Everything that could be thought of was done to make the corvette move
through the water.  The sails were wetted, the hammocks were piped down,
and the watch were ordered to turn in, with a couple of round shot with
each, under the idea that as the hammocks swung forward with the surge
of the ship, her speed would be increased.

The privateers were at that time committing so much havoc among the
English merchantmen, that it was of the greatest importance to stop
their career.

As the night drew on, the crescent moon, which had before been affording
some light, sank beneath the horizon, and the darkness increased, a mist
gradually filling the atmosphere, and obscuring all objects around.  The
chase was thus shut out from view.  Still the _Lily_ continued standing
in the direction she had last been seen.

Rayner was on the forecastle near Ben Twinch, both endeavouring to
pierce the veil which surrounded the supposed privateer.

"We may at any moment run through this mist, and we shall then, I hope,
see the chase again," observed Ben.  "It won't do for a moment to shut
our eyes, for maybe we shall find her much closer than before."

"I fancy that I can even now see her, but my imagination may deceive
me," said Rayner.  "Can that be her out there?"

"I can't see anything," said the boatswain, putting his hands on either
side of his eyes.

"What is that on the lee bow?" suddenly exclaimed Rayner.

Before the boatswain could turn his eyes in the direction the midshipman
was pointing, the latter added, "I must have been mistaken.  It has
disappeared, for I can see nothing.  Still I must go aft and report to
the commander what I saw, or fancied I saw."

"It could only have been fancy," remarked Captain Saltwell.  "The
imagination is easily deceived in an atmosphere like this.  We'll keep
on as we were standing."

Rayner accordingly went forward.  He was not sorry at length to be
relieved, as he was growing weary from having had so long to keep a
strain on his eyes.

At last, awakened by the gruff voice of the boatswain turning up the
hands, he went on deck, and found that it was already daylight; but not
a sail was in sight, and it was pretty evident that the chase had
altered her course.

The commander, thinking it likely that she had kept to the westward,
steered in that direction.

The day wore on, but still no sail appeared, nor did it seem at all
likely that the chase would again be sighted.  The ship was therefore
put about to rejoin the _Ione_.

Soon after noon the wind fell, and the _Lily_ lay motionless on the
glassy ocean; the sun shining forth with intense heat, making the pitch
in the seams of the deck bubble up, and every piece of metal feel as if
it had just come out of a furnace.  The seamen sought every spot of
shade which the sails afforded, and made frequent visits to the
water-cask to quench their thirst.

A few hours thus passed by, when, away to the south-east, a few clouds
could be seen floating across the sky.

"The calm can only be partial, for there's wind out there," observed the
commander, pointing the clouds out to the first lieutenant.  "I hope we
shall soon get it."

In this he was disappointed.  The day went by; the ship still lay
motionless on the waste of waters.  Another night came on.  It was not
until the sun again rose that the sails were heard to give several loud
flaps against the masts; a few cat's-paws were seen playing over the
surface of the water, and at length the canvas swelled out to an
easterly breeze.  The tacks were hauled aboard, and the _Lily_ stood in
the direction it was supposed the _Ione_ would be found, over the course
she had just come.

The wind was light, and she made but little progress.  It freshened,
however, in the evening, and during the night the log showed that she
was going at a fair rate.

Rayner was in the morning watch, and was forward when the look-out from
the mast-head shouted, "A piece of wreck away on the starboard bow."  As
the ship would pass close by it, she was kept on her course.  Rayner was
examining the piece of wreck through his glass, when he saw what he
supposed was a person moving on it.

He went aft, and reported this to the first lieutenant, who was on deck,
and the ship was headed up towards it.  "I can see four or five men!"
exclaimed Rayner, "some are lying down.  One man is kneeling up and
waving."

By this time the commander had come on deck, and as the ship drew near,
he ordered a boat to be got ready.

Two of the men were seen to rise on their knees, and wave.

"They must have belonged to the crew of the ship which blew up the other
day, though how they escaped seems a miracle," observed the commander.
"Poor fellows, they must have suffered fearfully!  Put a beaker of water
and some food in the boat.  They'll want nourishment as soon as
possible."

The corvette was hove-to.  Rayner took charge of the boat, the crew
pulling eagerly away to the rescue of the hapless men on the raft.

As they drew near, Rayner observed, to his surprise, as he stood up
steering, that one of the persons kneeling on the raft was dressed in
the uniform of an English midshipman.

"Give way, lads--give way!" he shouted.

The boat was quickly up to the raft, which was a portion apparently of
the poop deck.  Besides the young Englishman, there were five persons
dressed as ordinary seamen, dark, swarthy fellows, their countenances
haggard, and their whole appearance wretched in the extreme.

"Water, water! in mercy give us water!" cried the young Englishman;
while the other men, who were scarcely able to move, pointed to their
mouths.  One lay stretched on the raft, apparently lifeless, and another
seemed almost too far gone to recover.

Two of the _Lily's_ crew leapt on the raft, and, lifting up the English
midshipman, carried him to the stern-sheets, where Rayner stood with a
cup of water ready to give him.

He grasped it with both his hands, and eagerly drank the contents.  A
second mug had in the meantime been filled.  One of the Frenchmen, in
his eagerness to reach it, stretched out his arms, and fell flat on his
face.  The English seamen lifted him up, and gently poured the water
down his throat.  He and two more were lifted on board.  They then took
a cup to the rest, who were too weak to make the slightest exertion.
They poured some water down the throat of one; he gave one gasp, and
then sank back, apparently lifeless.  A sixth person was already beyond
human help.  On raising his arm, it fell again at his side.

"Are we to take these two bodies with us?" asked one of the men.  "They
don't seem to have any life in them."

"Yes, by all means," answered Rayner; "we must let the doctor judge
about them--perhaps he may bring them round."

The two bodies were placed in the bows, and the crew giving way, Rayner
steered for the ship.  As he looked at the countenance of the English
midshipman, he thought he had seen him before.  He did not trouble him
with questions, however; indeed, although the latter had asked for
water, it was very evident that he was unable to answer them.

The boat was soon alongside.  The young midshipman was the first lifted
on board.

"Why, who can this be?" exclaimed the commander.  "How came he among the
crew of the privateer?"

Rayner explained that he had seen him spring on deck the instant before
the ship blew up, but more about him he could not say, as he had not
spoken a word since he was taken on board the boat.

"Carry him at once into my cabin," said the commander.  "You'll do all
you can for him I know, doctor," he added, addressing the surgeon, who,
with the aid of the master and another officer, had already lifted up
the young stranger.

"He wants nourishment more than doctoring," answered the surgeon.

While the midshipman was being carried into the cabin, the
assistant-surgeon was examining the other men.  He ordered some broth to
be given to the three who had first been taken into the boat, observing
that it was the only thing they required; and he then at once turned his
attention to a fourth man, whose pulse he felt with a serious
countenance.

"There's life in him still," he observed; and ordering his head to be
slightly raised, he hurried down to his dispensary, and quickly returned
with a stimulant, which he poured down his throat.  The effect was
wonderful, for scarcely had it been swallowed than the patient gave
signs of returning animation.  The last poor fellow, after a careful
examination, he pronounced beyond human aid.

"Had we arrived half an hour sooner, his life might have been saved," he
observed, "for even now he is scarcely cold."

The surgeon soon came up.

"We'll try what can be done," he said, "for I never despair in a case of
this sort."

All his efforts, however, proved vain; and he at last had to acknowledge
to the assistant-surgeon that the unfortunate man was beyond recovery.
The yards had in the meantime been braced round, and the ship had been
standing on her course.

Rayner was now sent for into the cabin, where he found the midshipman he
had saved placed in the commander's cot.

"Do you see a likeness to any one you know?" asked Commander Saltwell.

"Yes," answered Rayner, looking at the countenance of the young
stranger, who was sleeping calmly; "I thought so from the first; he
reminds me of Mrs Crofton, or, rather, of her daughter."

"So he does me.  I have little doubt that he is Oliver Crofton, and I
can fully account for his being on board the privateer," said the
commander.  "She must have captured the prize of which he was in charge.
I fear that the rest of the men who were prisoners on board have
perished."

"I am thankful that he has been saved," said Rayner.  "It would
well-nigh have broken Mrs Crofton's and her daughter's hearts if they
had heard that he had died in so dreadful a manner, though to be sure no
one would have known of it unless we had fallen in with the raft."

The doctor would not allow any questions to be asked his patient until
he had several times taken a small quantity of nourishment, and had
passed the intermediate time in sleep; and the commander also kindly
directed that he should be allowed to remain in his cot, while he had a
hammock slung in his cabin for himself.

The surgeon or assistant-surgeon was in constant attendance on him
during the night.

Their unremitting care was rewarded, for soon after the hammocks were
piped up the young stranger opened his eyes, and exclaimed in a faint
voice, with a tone of astonishment, "Where am I?  What has happened?"

"You are all right, and safe among friends," said the commander, who had
just turned out of his hammock, coming to his side.  "You shall have
some breakfast, and then I must get you to tell me all about yourself.
Unless I am mistaken, we have met before.  Are you not Oliver Crofton?"

"Yes, sir," answered the midshipman.  "How did you know that, sir?"

"I made a shrewd guess at it," answered the commander, smiling, "and
truly glad I am to have you on board my ship.  However, do not exert
yourself just now, but go to sleep again if you can till the steward
brings you your breakfast, and you shall then, if the doctor thinks you
are strong enough, tell me all that has happened."

The commander, coming on deck, told Rayner that he was right in his
conjectures, and invited him to breakfast with him.

The surgeon, however, would not allow Oliver to get up, but said that he
might give an account of his adventures, provided he did not spin too
long a yarn.

"Thank you, sir," said Oliver.  "I'll try to collect my thoughts; for,
to say the truth, I find them somewhat scattered at present.

"It must have been nearly ten days ago when the _Ariel_, to which I
belonged, captured a French brig.  Captain Matson sent me on board to
take her to Port Royal.  We were just in sight of the eastern end of
Jamaica, when a large privateer bore down on us.  We did our best to
escape, but as she sailed two feet to our one, and carried twenty-two
guns, we were compelled to yield, and I and my men were taken on board,
while our prize was sent away to one of the French islands.

"The privateer continued her cruise in search of our merchantmen, or any
prizes our ships might have taken.  A more ruffianly set of fellows I
never set eyes on.  My poor men were robbed of everything they had about
them, and I should have had my jacket taken off my back but for the
interference of the officers, who allowed me to mess with them, and to
go on deck whenever I wished.  Considering the style of their
conversation at table, however, I should have thankfully preferred
living by myself.

"When they discovered that you were English, the officers took a fearful
oath that nothing should compel them to yield.  They, however, did their
best to escape; but when they found that you had the heels of them, they
made up their minds to fight, fully expecting, I believe, to take you.
Nothing could exceed the savageness of the crew as, stripped to the
waist, they went to their guns.  Several of them, as they cast their
eyes on me, vowed that they would shoot me through the head should the
day go against them.  Having no fancy to be so treated, I thought it
prudent to go below, knowing very well that, in spite of their boasting,
they would soon get the worst of it, and that you, at all events, would
fight on until you had compelled them to strike their flag or sent them
to the bottom.  I felt the awful position in which I was placed.  I
might be killed by one of your shot, even should I escape the knives and
bullets of my captors.

"I considered how I could best preserve my life, as I thought it very
possible that you would send the privateer to the bottom should she not
yield or try to escape.  I determined, should I find her sinking, to
leap out through one of the stern windows of the captain's cabin.  I
accordingly made my way there, and was looking out for some instrument
with which to force open the window when I saw smoke curling up through
an opening in the deck below me.  I at once knew that it must arise from
a spot at no great distance from the magazine.  In the hopes of inducing
the commander to send some men down to try and extinguish the fire
before it was too late, I sprang on deck.  Scarcely had I reached it,
and was telling the captain of our danger, when I felt a fearful
concussion, and found myself lifted into the air, the next instant to be
plunged overboard amidst the mangled crew, some few around me shrieking
vainly for help, though the greater number had been killed by the
explosion and sank immediately.  Being a strong swimmer, I struck out,
narrowly avoiding several who clutched at my legs, and swam towards a
large piece of wreck which had been blown to some distance from where
the ship went down.  I scrambled upon it, and was soon joined by three
other men, who had, they told me, been forward, and found themselves
uninjured in the water.

"I saw soon afterwards two others floating at some distance from the
raft.  One of them shouted for help saying that he was exhausted, and
could no longer support himself.  The other, notwithstanding left him to
his fate and swam towards us.  I could not bear to see the poor fellow
perish in our sight with the possibility of saving him, and as there was
no time to be lost, I plunged in and made for him, picking up in my way
a piece of plank.  I placed it under his arms, and telling him to hold
on to it, shoved it before me in the direction of the raft.  The other
fellow had in the meantime got hold of a piece of timber, on which he
was resting, but was apparently almost exhausted.  As I passed, I told
him that if I could I would come to his help, and I at length managed to
get back to the raft, on to which the three other men had hauled up
their other shipmate.

"I was pretty well tired by this time, and had to rest two or three
minutes before I could again venture into the water.  While I was trying
to recover my strength, the man clinging to the log, fancying that no
one was coming, again shrieked out for help.  Once more slipping into
the water, at last by shoving the piece of plank before me, I contrived
to reach him; then getting him to take hold of it, I made my way back to
the raft, when we were both dragged nearly exhausted out of the water.

"At first I had hopes that you would discover us and put back to take us
off; but when I perceived that you were on fire, I began to fear that we
should not be observed, though I did not say so to my companions in
misfortune, but endeavoured to keep up their spirits.  I told them that
if the ship with which they had been engaged should come back, my
countrymen would not look upon them as enemies, but would treat them
kindly, as people who had suffered a great misfortune.  When, however,
they saw you standing away, they began to abuse the English, declaring
that we were a perfidious nation, never to be trusted; and I had some
suspicion that they would wreak their ill-temper on my head.

"My position would have been very dreadful even had I been with
well-disposed companions.  The sun beat down upon our heads with
terrific force; we had not a particle of food, nor a drop of water to
quench our thirst.  I was thankful when, the sun at length having set,
the men, accustomed only to think of the present, and not suffering much
as yet from the want of food or water, stretched themselves on the raft
to sleep.

"I sat up, hoping against hope that you might come back to ascertain if
any people had escaped, or that some other vessel might pass within
hail.  We had no means of making a signal, not even a spar on which to
hoist our handkerchiefs or shirts.  The only article which had by some
means or other been thrown on the raft was a blanket.  How it had fallen
there I cannot tell.  I secured it, and doubling it up, it served as a
rest to my head.  I constantly, however, got up to look about, but no
vessel could I see, and at length, overpowered by weariness, I lay down
and fell asleep.

"At daylight I awoke.  The sea was calm.  I gazed anxiously around.  Not
a speck was visible in the horizon.  The sun rose, and its rays beat
down upon us with even greater fury than on the previous day, or, at all
events, I suffered more, as did my companions.  They now cried out for
water and food, and I saw them eye me with savage looks.  I pretended
not to observe this, and said that I hoped and thought that we might
catch some fish or birds.

"`It will be better for some of us if we do,' muttered one of the men.

"Although I saw several coveys of flying-fish leaping out of the water
in the distance, none came near us.  Once I caught sight of the black
fin of a shark gliding by; presently the creature turned, and as it
passed it eyed us, I thought, with an evil look; but while the water was
calm, there was no risk of its getting at us.  Had the brute been
smaller, we might have tried to catch it.  I remembered having heard of
several people who saved their lives, when nearly starved, by getting
hold of a shark.  One of the men stuck out his leg, and when the
creature tried to grab it, a running bowline was slipped round its head,
and it was hauled up.  My companions, however, had not the spirits to
make the attempt--indeed, we could not find rope sufficient for the
purpose on our raft.

"The day wore on, and scarcely any of my companions spoke, but lay
stretched at full length on the raft.  Others sat with their arms round
their knees, and their heads bent down, groaning and complaining, one or
two swearing fearfully at the terrible fate which had overtaken them,
regardless of that of their late shipmates, hurried into eternity.  In
vain I tried to arouse them.  Now and then one would look at me with an
ominous glance, and I confess I began to fear, as night drew on, that I
should not be allowed to see another day dawn.  I stood up, though it
was with difficulty that I could steady myself, for my strength was
already failing.  Anxiously I looked round the horizon.  The sky had
hitherto been clear; but, as I cast my eye to the eastward, I observed a
cloud rising rapidly.  Another and another followed.  They came on
directly towards us, discharging heavy drops of rain.  My fear was that
they would empty themselves before they reached us.  The looks of my
companions brightened.

"`Now, my friends,' I said, `we must try and catch some of that rain.
Here, spread out this blanket, for if a shower falls but for ten minutes
we shall have water enough to quench our thirst.'

"We got the blanket ready.  The first cloud passed by, nearly saturating
the blanket.  The men wrung it out into one of their hats, two or three
sucking at the corners.  They seemed inclined to fight for the small
quantity they had obtained, but did not even offer to give me any.  I
got no water, though the blanket was somewhat cleansed, not that I felt
inclined to be particular.  In a few minutes another shower fell.  Each
of us got an ample supply of water.  My spirits rose in a way I could
not have expected.  For some time I did not suffer from the pangs of
hunger; but they presently returned with greater force than before, and
I guessed how my companions were feeling.  I encouraged them as well as
I was able.  `God, in His mercy, has sent us water, and He may, I trust,
supply us with food.'

"Some of them stared at my remark, but others replied--

"`Yes, yes, perhaps to-morrow we shall have an ample breakfast.'

"Still I did not trust them completely, and endeavoured to keep awake
until they had all dropped off to sleep.

"Another heavy shower fell during the night, and I roused them up to
obtain a further supply of water.  We filled all our hats, for we had
nothing else to put it in.  The next day was but a repetition of the
former.  The water we had obtained during the night was quickly
exhausted.  My hopes of catching some fish appeared likely to be
disappointed.  Twice a shark came near us, but the brute was too large
to give us a chance of catching it.  It was far more likely to have
caught us had we made the attempt.  We shouted to drive it off.  At
last, smaller fish of some sort approached--albicores or bonitas.  It
was extraordinary with what eager looks we eyed the creatures.

"While we were watching the fish, trying to devise some means of
snatching them, one of the men, who lay stretched on the raft apparently
asleep or in a state of stupor, suddenly sat up, uttering an exclamation
of delight.  We turned our heads, and saw him eagerly gnawing at a
flying-fish; but he snarled and growled, eating eagerly all the time,
just as a dog does when a person attempts to take a bone from him.  He
had managed to gulp down the larger portion before the others could
snatch the prize from him.  The next moment he sank back, and never
spoke again.  I saw no violence used, except the force they exerted to
take the fragments of the fish from his hands.  It appeared to me as if
one of them had stabbed him, so suddenly did he fall.

"The others gave me none of the fish: indeed, my portion would have been
so small that I did not miss it, though for the moment I would have been
thankful for the merest scrap of food.

"I still endeavoured to keep up my spirits, and prayed for strength from
above.  I am sure it was given me, or I should have sunk.  I did not
like even to think of the pain I suffered.  The Frenchmen, too, were
growing ravenous, and I heard them talking together, and looking at me
as if meditating mischief.

"I thought over the means by which I could best preserve my life.  I
knew that it would not do to show the slightest fear, so arousing
myself, I said, `My friends, you are hungry, so am I, but we can endure
another day without eating.  Now I want you to understand that we are
more likely to be saved by an English vessel than by one of any other
nation, as there are three times as many English cruisers in these seas
as there are French, and ten times as many merchantmen.  If we are
picked up by an English vessel, you are sure to be well treated for my
sake, but if any accident were to happen to me--if I were to fall
overboard, for instance--there would be no one to say a word in your
favour.  Remember that I was the means of saving the lives of two of
you, although, when I plunged into the water and swam to you at the risk
of being caught by a shark, or sinking myself from fatigue, I did not
expect any return.  I suppose that you do not wish to be ungrateful.'

"This address seemed to have some effect on the men I had saved.  Each
of them uttered an exclamation of approval, while the two others, who
still retained some little strength, turned aside their heads, not
daring to look at me.  I did not move until night came on, when I
crawled from the place I had occupied, and lay down between the two men
who seemed most disposed to befriend me.  In the middle of the night I
awoke, and finding that there was a light breeze.  I endeavoured to
kneel up and ascertain if providentially any vessel were approaching.

"I was raising myself on my elbow when I saw one of the men who had
threatened me by their words creeping towards me.  I instantly awoke my
two friends, for so I will call them, by exclaiming, `There is a breeze.
Perhaps a vessel is approaching us.  We should not be sleeping;' while
the man whom I suspected of a design against my life drew back and lay
perfectly still.  I determined not again to fall asleep, if I could
avoid it, until daylight.  I believe, however, that I frequently dropped
off, but I was preserved.  When morning dawned, I discovered that the
man who had, as I believed, intended to kill me was utterly unable to
move.  The other fellow, however, seemed to be the strongest of the
party.  He got up, and stretching out his arms, exclaimed, addressing
his countrymen--

"`Food we must have this day at every coast, or we shall perish.'

"I also rose, and found, to my surprise, that I could stand on my feet.

"`I pray God that we may have food, and that some friendly vessel may
bring it,' I exclaimed.

"As I spoke I looked round the horizon, when I need not tell you how
grateful I felt to Heaven at seeing a sail standing, as I judged,
directly towards us.  I pointed her out to my companions; but as they
were sitting down, they could not for some time make her out.  I, too,
could no longer support myself, and once more sank on the raft.  In a
short time, however, we could all distinguish her.  The Frenchmen began
to weep.  Now they expressed their fears that she would pass us; now
they tried to shout for joy at the thoughts of being saved.  I at times
also dreaded lest we should not be observed, but all my doubts vanished
when I made you out to be an English sloop-of-war, and saw you haul up
towards us."



CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A SHIPWRECK.

The _Lily_ had been continuing her cruise in the Caribbean Sea for some
days without falling in with the _Ariel_, or any other English
ship-of-war, nor had she taken a prize.  Oliver Crofton had completely
recovered.  As one of the midshipmen was ill, he took his duty.  Our
hero and Oliver soon became fast friends, and they were well able to
appreciate each other's good qualities.

Commander Saltwell, not looking upon the Frenchmen he had picked up in
the light of prisoners, wished to put them on shore as soon as possible.
He resolved, therefore, to stand in towards the coast of San Domingo,
the western portion of which island belonged to France, and to land them
at some settlement where they could obtain assistance.

The _Lily_ was still off the east end of the island, belonging to Spain,
when a schooner was sighted running along the shore, apparently
endeavouring to escape observation.  The wind, however, headed her, and
she was compelled to tack off the land.

"She's French, to a certainty, or she would have run in and brought up
somewhere," observed Mr Horrocks.

The commander agreed with him.  The ship was steered so as to cut her
off.  On seeing this, the schooner wore, and, setting a large square
sail, ran off before the wind to the westward.  Though the stranger
evidently possessed a fast pair of heels, the _Lily_, making all sail,
soon got near enough to send a shot skipping over the water close under
her counter.  The schooner, notwithstanding, still held on, when another
shot almost grazed her side.  Her object was probably to run on until
she could steer for some port where she could obtain shelter and
protection.

"If she doesn't shorten sail presently, send another shot through her
canvas, Mr Coles," said the commander.

The _Lily_ carried a long gun which could be run out at either of her
bow ports.  It was the gunner's favourite.  He declared that he could
shoot as true with it, and ten times as far, as he could with a tower
musket.  The gun was loaded and pointed through the larboard bow port.

Still the chase held on.  It was time to bring her to, for the wind gave
signs of dropping.

"Are you ready there, forward, with the gun?" asked the commander.

"Ay, ay, sir!" was the answer.

"Port the helm!  Fire!" he shouted directly afterwards.

The gun was well aimed, for the shot went through the schooner's large
squaresail.  The ship was again kept on her course, when the gun was
hauled in and reloaded.

"Stand by to fire again, and this time pitch it into her.  All ready
there, forward?"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

Again the helm was ported, but before the commander had time to shout
"Fire!" the schooner was seen to haul down her flag, at the same time to
take in her squaresail and clew up her foretopsail.

The corvette was soon up, when she was found to be a fine little
schooner, such as was employed in the carrying trade between the
islands, or in bringing the produce of the plantations to some central
depot.

"Heave to!" cried the commander; "and if you attempt to escape I'll sink
you, remember that!  Tell them in French what I mean," he added, turning
to Rayner.

"Oui, oui; je comprende," answered one of the few white men on board--
probably the master--and, the schooner's helm being put down, she came
up head to wind, with her foretopsail to the mast.

The corvette, which had by this time shot a little way ahead, also
hove-to, and the commander directed Rayner, with a boat's crew, to go on
board the prize and take possession.

The master stood, hat in hand, at the gangway, ready to receive him.

He was bound, he said, for Martinique, in ballast, to obtain a cargo and
other stores for Leogane, the principal settlement of the French in the
island.  The crew consisted of a Creole mate, two mulattos, and four
blacks, one of the former calling himself the boatswain.

"Then you'll do me the favour of accompanying the master and mate on
board the ship," said Rayner pointing to the boat.

The master seemed very unwilling to obey, but the crew soon tumbled him,
with the mate and boatswain, into the boat, which returned to the
corvette, while Rayner remained with two hands on board.

He now ordered the crew to haul round the fore yard, and, keeping the
helm up, soon ran within speaking distance of the _Lily_.

"I intend to send you in to land the people picked up on the raft, with
a flag of truce, and as soon as you put them on shore, come back and
join me," said the commander.

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Rayner, very well pleased to have a separate
command, although it might only last a few hours.  He was still more
pleased, however, when the boat came back, bringing Oliver Crofton, the
four Frenchmen, and Jack and Tom, to form part of his crew.  The blacks
and the mulatto were kept on board to assist in working the schooner.
The mulatto said he was the steward, and one of the blacks, with a low
bow, introduced himself as the cook.

"Me talkee English, massa, well as French, and me cookee anyting dat
buckra officer like to order," he said, with a grimace which made the
midshipman laugh.

"By-the-bye, before we part company with the corvette, we may as well
ascertain what Sambo here has got to cook," said Oliver.

It was fortunate that he had this forethought, for, except a supply of
salt-fish, some yams and bananas, and a small cask of flour, with a
half-empty case of claret, no other provisions were discovered for
officers or men.  Oliver accordingly returned, and obtained some beef
and biscuit, and a few articles from the mess.

"And just bring five or six dollars with you, in case we want to
purchase any fish or vegetables," said Rayner, as he was shoving off.

No time was lost in procuring what was necessary, when Oliver returned
to the _Mouche_, for such was the name of the prize.  The corvette
making sail, she and the schooner ran on in company until they came off
the French part of the coast.  The commander then ordered Rayner to
stand in, directing him, should any people be seen on shore, to hoist a
white flag, and land the four Frenchmen.

Scarcely, however, had they parted company for a couple of hours, when a
dead calm came on, and Rayner and Oliver believed that there was no
chance of being able to land the Frenchmen that night.

"I am very sorry for it," remarked Oliver; "for from the experience I
have had of them, I think it more than possible, if they can get the
assistance of the black crew, they will try and play us some scurvy
trick.  I have not hitherto pointed out the fellow who tried to take my
life, and who was so nearly dying himself; but I suspect his disposition
has not altered for the better.  You'll fancy me somewhat suspicious,
but I cannot help thinking that should he win over the blacks, they will
try and take the schooner from us."

"They'll find that rather a tough job with you and me and our four men
to oppose them," answered Rayner.  "However, after your warning, I'll
keep an eye on the gentlemen, and I'll tell Jack Peek to let me know if
he sees anything suspicious in their behaviour.  He understands French
almost as well as I do, and he'll soon find out what they are about."

"I do not like to think ill of other people, even though they are
foreigners; but I cannot forget what a villain one of those men is,"
remarked Oliver.

"Forewarned, forearmed," said Rayner.  "We need not, after all, be
anxious about the matter; but it will be wise to keep our pistols in our
belts and our swords by our sides, and not to let the Frenchmen and the
black crew mix together more than is necessary."  The steward now came
aft, hat in hand, and speaking in a jargon of French and Spanish,
interlarded with a few words of English, of which he was evidently
proud, requested to know what the officers would like for supper.

"We shall not find fault, provided that the cook supplies us with the
best he can," answered Rayner.  "One of our men there,"--pointing to
Jack Peek--"will give him the materials, unless he happens to have some
ducks or fowls, or a fine fish, for which we will pay him."

The steward shrugged his shoulders, regretting that the only fish he had
on board were salted; but, notwithstanding, the cook would exercise his
skill upon them, and would produce a dish which even an epicure would
not disdain.

While waiting for the evening meal, the young officers walked the deck,
whistling for a breeze, but there seemed no chance of its coming.  The
land lay blue, but still indistinct, away to the northward, its outline
varied by hills of picturesque form, which rose here and there along the
coast.

Rayner called up Jack Peek, and told him to keep a watch not only on the
black crew, but on the Frenchmen.  "Notwithstanding the kind way they
have been treated, they may think it a fine opportunity for obtaining a
vessel in which they can carry on their former calling," he observed.

"They'll be audaciously ungrateful wretches if they do, sir," answered
Jack.  "To my mind they'll deserve to be hove overboard to feed one of
those sharks out there;" and he pointed to a black fin which was gliding
just above the surface.

"I hope that they will not prove treacherous, and it is our business to
take care that they have no opportunity of being so," said Rayner.  "Do
you and Tom keep an eye upon them, that's all."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Jack.

The English seamen kept together.  Though there were but four of them,
they were sturdy fellows, well armed, and it was not likely that either
the blacks or Frenchmen would venture to attack them.

At length the mulatto steward announced supper ready, and Rayner and
Oliver descended to partake of it, leaving Tom in charge of the deck.

"Call me if you see the slightest sign of a breeze," said the former, as
he went below.

The cabin was not very large nor yet very clean; indeed, cockroaches and
centipedes were crawling about in all directions, and every now and then
dropped down on the white cloth from the beams above.  The table,
however, was covered with several dishes, which, from the fragrant odour
ascending from them, promised to satisfy the hunger of a couple of
midshipmen.  It was difficult to make out the materials of which the
dishes were composed, but on examination it was found that they
consisted chiefly of salt beef and fish dressed in a variety of
fashions, fricasseed, stewed, and grilled, and mixed with an abundance
of vegetables, with some delicious fruit, such as the West Indies can
alone produce.

"Me tinkee better keep on de cobers, massa," observed the steward, "or
de cockroaches fall in an' drown demselves."

"By all means," said Rayner, laughing.  Indeed, he and Oliver had to
examine each mouthful before they raised it to their lips, lest they
should find one of the nauseous creatures between their teeth.

As soon as the midshipmen had finished supper, they returned on deck.

The sun had sunk beneath the ocean in a refulgence of glory, its parting
rays throwing a ruddy glow over the surface, unbroken by a single
ripple.

"We must make up our minds to spend the night where we are," observed
Rayner.  "It will be as well for you and me to take watch and watch, and
not to trust to any of the men, for although I have every confidence in
Peek, I cannot say the same for the rest."

Oliver, of course, agreed to this, and took the first watch.  At
midnight he aroused Rayner, who had stretched himself on one of the
lockers, not feeling inclined to turn into either of the
doubtful-looking bunks at the side of the vessel.

"I suspect that we are going to have a change of weather," said Oliver,
as he came on deck.  "The air feels unusually oppressive for this time
of night.  There is a mist rising to the southward, though the stars
overhead shine as bright as usual."

"I don't know what to think of it, having had but little experience in
these seas," answered Rayner; "I must ask the oldest of the Frenchmen,
but I don't see any of them on deck."

"No, they and the blacks have all turned in," said Oliver.  "They did
not ask my leave, but I thought it useless to rouse them up again, as
there seemed no chance of their being wanted."

"Well, go and lie down and take a caulk, if the centipedes and
cockroaches will let you," laughed Rayner.  "They have been crawling all
over me during the time I have been below, but I knew there was no use
attempting to keep them off, so I let them crawl, without interfering
with their pleasure.  If I see any further change in the appearance of
the sky, I will rouse you up, and we'll make the black fellows turn out
to be ready to shorten sail."

Rayner for some time walked the deck of the little vessel alone.  Jack
was at the helm, and one of the men forward.  The watch was very nearly
out, and he determined not to call up Oliver until daylight.  On looking
to the southward he saw that the mist which had before remained only a
few feet above the horizon was rapidly covering the sky, while beneath
it he distinguished a long line of white foam.

"Turn out, Oliver!" he shouted through the cabin skylight; "I'll take
the helm.  Peek, run forward and rouse up the blacks and Frenchmen to
shorten sail.  Not a moment to be lost!"

Jack as he went forward shouted down the main hatchway, where Tom and
the other men were sleeping, and then in a stentorian voice called, in
French, to shorten sail.

The Englishmen were on deck in a moment, but the blacks came up
stretching their arms and yawning.

"Lower away with the throat and peak halyards!" shouted Rayner.

Oliver and the two English sailors hastened to obey the order.

"Brail up the foresail.  Be smart, lads!  Aloft with you and furl the
foretopsail, or it will be blown out of the bolt-ropes!"

The mainsail was quickly got down.  The black crew were pulling and
hauling at the brails of the headsails, when a fierce blast struck the
vessel.  She heeled over to it.

Rayner immediately put up the helm; but before the vessel had answered
to it, she heeled over till the water rushed over the deck.  Then there
came a clap like thunder, and the main-topsail, split across, was blown
out of the bolt-ropes.

"Square away the foreyard!" shouted Rayner.

The vessel, righting, flew off before the fierce gale, the water rushing
and foaming round her sides.  Astern, the whole ocean seemed a mass of
tumultuous foam-covered waves.

The sky was as black as ink.  To bring the vessel to the wind was
impossible.  All that could be done was to run directly before the gale,
and even then it seemed that at any moment the fast rising seas might
break over her stern and sweep her decks.

The schooner, however, by continuing her course, was running on
destruction, unless some port could be found under her lee to afford her
shelter; but even then there was a great risk of being captured by the
enemy, who would not pay much attention to a flag of truce, or believe
that she came for the object of landing the Frenchmen.  Besides which,
as the vessel was a prize, it would be thought perfectly right to detain
her.

Dawn broke; for an instant a fiery-red line appeared in the eastern
horizon, but was quickly obscured.  The increasing light, however,
enabled the crew to carry on work which could not otherwise have been
performed.

Rayner and Oliver resolved that they must, at all risks, try to heave
the schooner to while there was yet sea-room; and, should the weather
moderate, beat off shore until the gale was over and a boat could land
the people with safety on the beach.  The first thing to be done was to
strike the maintopmast.  Peek took the helm, while the rest went aloft.

It was no easy matter to get out the fid--the pin which secured the heel
of the topmast in the cross-trees--but after considerable exertions,
with a fearful risk of being jerked overboard, they succeeded in
lowering down the mast.

They had next to get fore and main-trysails ready to set, should it be
found possible to beat to windward, though at present it was evident
that the schooner could not bear even that amount of canvas.

The foretopsail had stood, being a new stout sail, and it being closely
reefed, Rayner hoped that the little vessel would lay to under it.  It
was a dangerous experiment he was about to try, but he had to choose
between two evils--that of being driven on shore, or the risk of having
the decks swept by the tremendous seas rolling up from the southward
before the schooner could be hove-to.  She had already run a
considerable distance nearer the land.

Stationing the men in readiness to brace round the yard, he looked out
for a favourable opportunity to put down the helm and bring the vessel
up to the wind.

That favourable opportunity, however, did not come; every sea that
rolled up astern threatened to overwhelm her should he make the attempt.

The land appeared closer and closer.  If the vessel was to be hove-to it
must be done at once, in spite of all risks.

"Hold on, lads, for your lives!" cried Rayner, in English and French,
setting the example by clinging to the larboard main rigging.  "Now
starboard the helm.  Haul away on the larboard headbrace.  Ease off the
starboard."

Oliver and Jack, who were at the helm, as they put it down prepared to
lash it to starboard; but as the vessel came up to the wind, a fearful
sea struck her, sweeping over her deck, carrying away the caboose and
the whole of the bulwarks forward; at the same moment the foretopsail
split as the other had done, and the canvas, after fluttering wildly in
the blast, was whisked round and round the yard.

"Up with the helm!" cried Rayner.

Oliver and Jack, knowing what was necessary, were already putting it up.
Before another sea struck the vessel she was again before the gale.
Her only resource was now to anchor, should no port be discovered into
which they could run.

The cable was accordingly ranged ready to let go at a moment's notice;
but Rayner and Oliver well knew that there was little hope of the anchor
holding, or if it did, of the vessel living through the seas which would
break over her as soon as her course was stopped.  Still, desperate as
was the chance, it must be tried.  There might be time to set the
foresail yet, and she might lay to under it.

The order was given to get the sail ready for setting as soon as she
could be brought up to the wind.  Again the helm was put down.

"Hoist away!" shouted Rayner.

But scarcely had the sail felt the wind than it was blown away to
leeward, and another sea, even heavier than the first, struck the
vessel, sweeping fore and aft over her deck.

Rayner, who was clinging on to the rigging, thought that she would never
rise again.  A fearful shriek reached his ear, and looking to leeward,
he saw two of his people in the embraces of the relentless sea.

In vain the poor fellows attempted to regain the schooner, farther and
farther they were borne away, until, throwing up their arms, they
disappeared beneath the foaming waters.

At first he thought they were his own men, but on looking round he saw
Oliver and Jack clinging to the companion-hatch, and the rest holding on
to the main rigging.  One of the Frenchmen had been lost, and the
coloured steward.

Ere long the rest on board might have to share the same fate.  Still
Rayner resolved to struggle to the last.

Another attempt was made.  The main-trysail was shifted to the foremast;
if that would stand, the vessel might possibly be kept off shore; but
scarcely had it been set, than the hurricane came down on the hapless
vessel with redoubled fury.  The weather rigging gave way, and down came
the mast itself, killing one of the blacks, and fearfully crushing
another; and, to Rayner's dismay striking down Jack Peek.  He sprang
forward to drag Jack out from beneath the tangled rigging and spars,
calling Tom Fletcher to assist him.  They ran a fearful risk of being
washed away, but he could not leave Jack to perish.

"Are you much hurt?" he shouted, as he saw Jack struggling to free
himself.

"Can't say, sir; but my shoulder and leg don't feel of much use,"
answered Jack.

Tom, with evident reluctance, had to let go his hold, but could not
refuse to run the same risk as his officer.

By lifting the spars they got Jack out, and dragged him to the
after-part of the vessel, where, as he did not seem able to help
himself, Rayner secured him by a lashing to a stanchion.

"I'll stand by you, Peek, and, if it becomes necessary, I'll cast you
off, so that you may have a chance of saving yourself," he said.

As it was now evidently hopeless to attempt heaving the vessel to, she
was once more kept before the wind, while Rayner and his men, armed with
two axes, which they found hanging up in the companion-hatch, and their
knives cut away the rigging, and allowed the foremast, which hung over
the side, to float clear of the vessel.

"We must now cut away the mainmast.  We shall have to bring up
presently, and it will enable her to ride more easily," cried Rayner.
The standing rigging was first cut through, then that on the other side,
when a few strokes sent the mast overboard.  Still the schooner ran on
before the wind.  Had she been laden, she must have foundered.  The
hatches had been got on and battened down.  They now, as far as
practicable, secured the companion-hatch, for they all well knew that
the moment they should bring up, the seas would come rolling on board,
and sweep the decks fore and aft.  By Rayner's advice, each man got
lashings ready to secure himself to the stanchions or stumps of the
masts.  Nearer and nearer the vessel drew to the shore.  Looking ahead,
the line of breakers were seen dashing wildly on a reef parallel with
the shore, beyond which there appeared to be a narrow lagoon.

Rayner, observing that the surf did not roll up the beach to any
considerable height, looked out for a passage through which the vessel
might be steered.  The continuous line of breakers ran as far as the eye
could reach along the shore.  There was only one spot where they seemed
to break with less fury.  Towards it Rayner determined to steer the
schooner.  He and Oliver soon came to the conclusion that it would be
useless to attempt anchoring.  The water, probably, was far too deep
outside the reef for their range of cable, and even if it were not, the
anchor was not likely to hold.

They accordingly steered for the spot they had discovered, the only one
which afforded them the slightest hope of escaping instant destruction.

On rushed the vessel, now rising on the top of a sea, now plunging into
a deep hollow.  Rayner and Oliver held their breaths.

"I say, what's going to happen?" asked Tom of one of the other men.
"Shall we get safe on shore?  I shouldn't mind if we could, although the
Frenchmen made us prisoners."

"As to that, it seems to me doubtful," was the answer.  "Maybe, in a few
minutes we shall be floating about among those breakers there, with no
more life in us than those poor fellows who were washed away just now;
or it may be that this little craft will be carried clear over the reef
into smooth water."

"Oh dear, oh dear!" exclaimed Tom, "I have often wished that I had
stayed at home; I wish it more than ever now."

"No use wishing.  It won't undo what has been done.  But, see, we are
getting very close.  We shall know all about it presently."

The schooner was farther off than Rayner had at first supposed; and as
they got nearer he saw, to his relief, that the spot for which he was
steering was wider than he had fancied.

There seemed just a chance that the vessel might be thrown through
without striking; at the same time, tossed about as she was, it was
impossible to steer her as might be wished.  He commended himself and
his followers, as every wise men would do, to the care of the Almighty,
and nerved himself up for whatever might happen.

The roar of the breakers sounded louder and louder.  On the vessel
drove, until there was a crash.  She had struck, but, contrary to all
expectation, another sea lifted her and flung her completely through the
breakers, when, swinging round, she grounded on a sandbank just within
them, heeling over with her head to the eastward, and her deck towards
the shore.

Though the sea, which washed over the reef, still beat against her, she
might possibly hold together for some time.



CHAPTER THIRTY.

RAYNER PROVES THAT HE IS A TRUE HERO.

The sea dashing over the reef, though spent of its fury, still broke
with great force against the hull of the schooner.  Her timbers shook
and quivered as wave after wave, striking them, rolled on towards the
beach, and then came hissing back, covering the surface of the lagoon
with a mass of creaming foam.  The coast, as far as could be seen
through the masses of spray, looked barren and uninviting.

The Frenchmen and blacks, recovering from the alarm which had well-nigh
paralysed them, rushed to the boat stowed amidships, and began casting
adrift the lashings, and preparing to launch her.

"Keep all fast there!" cried Rayner, as he saw what they were about.
"It will be best to wait till the sea goes down, when we shall be able
to get the boat into the water with less risk of her being swamped than
at present."

They, however, paid no attention to his orders, and continued their
preparations for launching the boat.

When he found that they persisted in their attempts, he urged them to
wait till they had collected a supply of provisions, and obtained some
fresh water, as it was probable that they might find neither the one nor
the other on shore.  Calling Fletcher aft to attend to Peek, he and
Oliver went into the cabin to collect all the eatables they could find,
as also their carpet bags and such other articles as might be useful.

"We must get up some water before the boat shoves off," said Rayner.
"I'll send one of the men to help you, while I go into the hold to
search for casks."

The boat was still on the deck, and there seemed no probability that the
Frenchmen and blacks would succeed in launching her.

He was some time below, hunting about for the casks of water.

He had just found a couple, and was about to return on deck to obtain
some slings for hoisting them up, when he heard Jack Peek shout out,
"Quick, Mr Rayner--quick! the fellows are shoving off in the boat."

Springing on deck, what was his surprise and indignation to see the boat
in the water, and all the men in her, including Tom Fletcher!

"What treachery is this?" he exclaimed.  "If go you must, wait until we
can get our injured shipmate into the boat, and Mr Crofton will be on
deck in a moment."

While he was speaking, the man named Brown, who had gone with him below,
rushing on deck, leapt into the boat, intending to prevent them from
shoving off.  Rayner, for the same object, followed him, with a rope in
his hand, which he was in the act of making fast, when one of the
Frenchmen cut it through, and the boat rapidly drifted away from the
side of the vessel.

In vain Rayner urged the people to pull back, and take off Oliver and
Jack; but, regardless of his entreaties, one of them, seizing the helm,
turned the boat's head towards the beach.  They pulled rapidly away,
endeavouring to keep her from being swamped by the heavy seas which
rolled up astern.  Now she rose, now she sank, as she neared the shore.

"Oliver will fancy that I have deserted him; but Jack Pee