As there was no necessity any longer for keeping the oars going, all on board anxiously watched the approaching ship.
“She is a man-of-war, I have little doubt,” said Joe. “Carries fifty guns. She is English, too,” he added; “she has hoisted her ensign at the peak.”
“Remember we have but one simple tale to tell,” said Stephen to Andrew and Simon; “we are bound for Holland. We must neither show fear nor surprise if we are taken on board. Merely ask the English Captain to supply us with a mast and the necessary rigging, in place of the one we have lost.”
In a short time the frigate was up to the little vessel. A boat was lowered, and a lieutenant and midshipman came in her.
“What has brought you into this condition, friends?” asked the former, looking at Joe.
“Oh,” replied Joe, “a sudden squall carried away our mast.”
“The Captain’s orders were to bring your boat alongside,” said the lieutenant. “Get out your oars; we will soon tow you there.”
Just then Stephen, who had been looking at the midshipman, exclaimed, “Roger Willoughby!”
Roger started up and cried out, “Stephen Battiscombe! I should not have known you, you look so thin and careworn. What has brought you out here?”
“My brother and I and our friend are going to seek our fortune in Holland,” answered Stephen, who would rather not have had his name mentioned.