“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.”