W.H.G. Kingston

"The Three Lieutenants"

Chapter One.

Lieutenant Jack Rogers at home—His brother Tom resolves to follow in his wake—His old shipmates discussed—Letter from Terence Adair descriptive of his family—Admiral Triton pleads Tom’s cause—The Admiral’s advice to Tom—Leaving home.

“Really, Jack, that uniform is excessively becoming. Do oblige us by standing up as if you were on the quarter-deck of your ship and hailing the main-top. I do not remember ever having seen a naval officer above the rank of a midshipman in uniform before. Do you, Lucy?”

“Only once, at a Twelfth-night party at Foxica, to which you did not go, when Lady Darlington persuaded Admiral Triton to rig himself out, as he called it, for our amusement, in a naval suit of the time of Benbow, belonging to her great-grandfather. I prefer Jack in his uniform, I own, and he looks infinitely better in it than he does in top-boots and a hunting-coat, when he is eclipsed by many of the young farmers who have not two ideas to string together.”

These remarks were made in the presence of Jack Rogers by his young and pretty sisters, Mary and Lucy, soon after his return home from China, on his promotion to the rank of Lieutenant, when one morning he entered the breakfast-room, dressed in a bran-new uniform, which, with inward satisfaction, he had put on at their request, that he might exhibit it to them. It set off to advantage his manly, well-knit figure, at which no one could look without seeing that he must possess ample strength of limb and muscle. An honest, kind heart beamed through a somewhat broad, very sun-burnt countenance. His features were good, though, and his head was well set on a wide pair of shoulders, which made him look shorter than he really was, not that he could boast of being a man of inches. Take him for all in all, Jack Rogers was a thoroughly good specimen of the British naval officer. Of course his sisters admired him—what sisters would not?—but their admiration was surpassed by that of his youngest brother, Tom, who was firmly of opinion that there never had been and never could be anybody like him; yet Tom was Jack in miniature, and the portrait of Jack, taken just before he went to sea, was frequently supposed to be that of Tom. At school (Tom went to Eagle House, which, though old Rowley had retired to enjoy a well-earned “otium cum dignitate” in his native Cumberland, still kept up its ancient character under an able master) his great delight was to talk of the sayings and doings of “my brother Jack,” and to read extracts from the accounts of the latter, which from time to time came home. Tom’s schoolfellows knew almost as much about Jack’s adventures as those who, in subsequent years, read them in print, and they all agreed that he must be a first-rate chap.

“I should think so, indeed,” said Tom, in a tone of confidence. “If you were just to see him once you’d say I am right, and my great wonder is, that the Lords of the Admiralty don’t make him a post-captain right off at once. They couldn’t help themselves if they knew him as well as I do.”

Thus admiring Jack, it was natural that Tom should have resolved to follow in his footsteps. His whole heart was set upon being a sailor, and going some day to sea with Jack. He did not talk much about his intentions; that was not his way, except, perhaps, to one or two very intimate friends; but he had confided his hopes and wishes to Admiral Triton, who had promised to forward them.

“You can’t choose a better profession, and I’ll see about it when the time comes,” answered the Admiral. “Not that the service is what it was, but I never hold with those who swear that it’s going to ruin, and I shall have no fear on that score as long as there are plenty of fine young fellows in it, like your brother Jack and his friends Murray and Adair and scores of others, and such as you’ll turn out, Tom, I’m sure. No, no. I’ve a notion, however, that we should have been much the better if those abominable, smoky tea-kettles of affairs introduced of late years had never been thought of, but one comfort is, that they never can be of the slightest possible use as men-of-war, though they may serve to tow ships into action when forts are to be attacked and such-like work. Never do you get appointed to one if you can help it, Tom. They’ll spoil our sailors as sailors if they do nothing else.”

This was said before the Nemesis in China, and other steamers had done good service, which even seamen of the old school could not disparage.

Of course Tom regarded steamers with the utmost contempt, and never spoke of them without quoting the remarks of Admiral Triton, who, however, in the course of time, learnt to modify his opinions.

Tom, who had come home for the holidays with secret hopes of not having to return to Eagle House, sat proudly smiling his assent to their sisters’ remarks on Jack, stopping for awhile from the vigorous attack on a plate of ham and eggs, which he had before been making. Jack, who had taken a chair at the table, asked quietly,—“do you really wish to hear me hail the main-top?” Mary nodded.

Tom’s eyes twinkled, his countenance beamed all over with delight.

Jack got up, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and put his hand to his mouth as if about to hail.

“I had better not,” he said, laughing, “lest I frighten the household out of their propriety. They will think that some wild bull has got into the breakfast-room.”

“Oh, never mind that; we want to hear how you do speak on board ship,” said Lucy; “just a few words, you know.”

“As you like it,” said Jack, and then, putting his hand to his mouth, he shouted simply, “Maintop there!”

The sound made his sisters jump from their chairs. Tom clapped his hands with delight, and laughed till the tears rolled down his cheeks. In rushed the butler and footman and two housemaids, with dusters in their hands, to ascertain what was the matter. Sir John came hurrying in from the garden with a look of astonishment on his countenance, and her ladyship’s own maid was sent down to know if anything had happened.

“I told you so,” said Jack to his sisters. “I was only speaking as we do sometimes at sea,” he added, turning to the servants, the female portion of whom lingered to take an admiring look at their young master.

Sir John gazed with a father’s pride at his manly son, and then looked at Tom, about whom he had the evening before received a letter from Admiral Triton, saying that if the boy still wished to go into the Navy, he should have great pleasure in getting him forthwith appointed to a ship.

“If the service turns him out as fine a fellow as his brother, I shall not regret should he choose it,” thought the baronet. “I’ll talk to him and Jack about the matter by-and-by, and ascertain the real bent of the boy’s inclinations.” Had Tom known what was passing in his father’s mind he would speedily have decided the question.

The whole party were soon assembled at breakfast—that pleasantest and most sociable of meals in an English country-house. Besides the members of the family already introduced, there was Lady Rogers—fair, comely, gentle-mannered—and kind-hearted—Paul the eldest son, studying the law that he might take the better care of his paternal estates; and, lastly, Sidney, a captain in the Guards, at home on leave. Then there were several guests, county neighbours, who had come for a couple of nights, a brother officer of Sidney’s and a school-fellow of Lucy’s. Jack cast an appreciating glance over the breakfast-table, with its plates of attractive little rolls, its racks of thin, crisp toast, its small pats of butter, swimming amid ice in elegantly-designed bowls of crystal, its eggs under snow-white napkins, its covered dishes containing muffins or sausages or other minute delicacies, its hissing urn and cream and milk jugs, and tea set at one end, and its coffee set at the other, presided over by two sweet-looking girls; and then he smilingly looked over his shoulder at the side-board, on which, among various comestibles, appeared a round of beef, another of brawn, a huge ham, and a venison-pasty.

Who that has been long a wanderer from home has not gone back in memory to such a scene as now greeted Jack’s eyes, especially when hunger has been gnawing or provender coarse? Jack often had, and though he had never grumbled at privations or hardships, he was, notwithstanding, all the more ready to do ample justice to the viands spread out before him. He showed this when, after having helped several of the party from the side-board, he returned with his own well-loaded plate to the table. The guardsman watched him with astonishment, and even his brother, the barrister, thought that Jack had got an enormous appetite. Jack, who was hungry, saw no reason why he should not eat till he was satisfied, and had laid in a store of food to last him till the seven o’clock dinner, for luncheon he eschewed as effeminate and an unnecessary interruption to the business of the day.

Before breakfast was concluded the post-bag was brought in, opened by Sir John, and its contents distributed. An official-looking letter, addressed to Jack, attracted universal attention.

“Who is it from?” asked Mary anxiously.

“About your prize-money, Jack?” inquired his mother. “You are not yet again appointed to a ship, I hope, my dear boy?”

“I am, though!” exclaimed Jack exultingly, for the moment not thinking of his mother’s feeling, “and second of a fine new thirty-six gun frigate the Plantagenet, commanded by my old friend Hemming. Couldn’t wish for anything better. Where there’s work to be done he is sure to be sent.”

“But you will not have to go away at once, dear Jack, I trust,” cried Lucy, who loved her sailor brother dearly.

Tom said nothing, and it might have been difficult to decide whether he was about to cry or laugh. He evidently felt as much interested in the announcement as Jack himself.

“Faith, they do work you hard,” observed his guardsman brother. “If the purchase-system was allowed in your service I suspect that buyers would be rare.”

“I am very glad it doesn’t; for now, if a hardworking fellow gets his foot on the ratlines he has a chance of climbing upwards,” answered Jack. “However, as the Plantagenet has only just been commissioned, I shall be able to enjoy the civilising influences of home for a short time longer. In truth, I am almost ashamed at being pleased with the thoughts of going off again to sea; but after having knocked about all one’s life as a midshipman it is satisfactory to feel that one is an officer in reality, with a cabin of one’s own.”

“Of course, my boy; much more natural than to wish to be dangling after your sisters, or any other of the petticoat tribe who might take it into their heads to patronise you,” said Sir John, glancing with all a father’s pride at his gallant son. “To what station are you to be sent?”

“As far as I can discover, that remains as yet in the mysterious depths of my Lords Commissioners’ minds,” answered Jack, glancing over some other letters. “Hemming has an idea that it may be to the West Indies; at least such is the opinion of the Portsmouth tailors, who have generally more correct information on these matters than any one else. Just now, when the world is so peaceably disposed, it is not of much consequence where we go; and as I have never been in those seas I would rather be sent there than anywhere else.”

“I trust that it will not be to the West Indies, my dear boy,” said Lady Rogers. “I have read such sad accounts of the dreadful yellow fever which kills so many people, and of those terrible hurricanes which send so many ships to the bottom, and devastate whole islands whenever they appear, that I tremble at the thoughts of your going there.”

“Pray don’t let such an idea trouble you, mother,” answered Jack; “the yellow fever only comes once in a way, and hurricanes appear even less frequently; so that we may hope to escape both one and the other, even if we do go there. I have no wish, however, to leave home in a hurry, and should be glad to remain long enough to receive Murray and Adair, whom I invited to come here, but I am afraid when they hear of my appointment that they will write to put off their visit till another time, which may never arrive. It is not likely that we shall be at home together again. They are capital fellows. You remember them, Lucy, when we were all on shore after our first trip to sea, and they came to call on us in London, and afterwards Adair went down with us for a few days into the country.”

“Yes, indeed. Mr Adair, I suppose I must now call him, was, I remember, a terrible pickle; while Mr Murray appeared to be a wonderfully sedate, taciturn young Scotchman, a pattern of correctness and propriety,” said Lucy.

“Maybe, but as noble and brave a fellow as ever breathed!” exclaimed Jack warmly. “I should like to know what opinion you would form of him now. I must write by to-day’s post, and beg him to put off other engagements if he can, and come to us at once.”

“And that terrible pickle, as Lucy calls him, your Irish friend, Mr Adair, are we to have the honour of renewing our acquaintance with him before you go away?” asked Mary. “I must protest against having him here unless you are present to restrain his exuberant spirits, and the various eccentricities in which he may take it into his head to indulge.”

“Oh, Paddy Adair is as gentle as a pet lamb if you only manage him properly,” answered Jack, laughing. “Those various eccentricities are merely his little frolicsome ways, which can be restrained by silken cords. There isn’t a quieter fellow breathing in the society of grown-up young ladies, such as you now are. Remember, you were school girls when you saw him last, and he possibly did not think it necessary to treat you with the respect he now would.”

“He must indeed be much altered then,” observed Lucy. “He had then a curious fancy for standing on his head, jumping out of windows, and climbing in at them too, dressing up the dogs and cats in costume, letting off squibs under horses’ noses, putting gunpowder into candles, etcetera, while his tongue kept up a continued rattle from morning till night.”

“Avast there, sister,” cried Jack, interrupting her; “I beg your pardon; you have made me speak like a sailor on the stage. I assure you that Paddy would not dream of committing any of the atrocities you enumerate; on the contrary, if you ask him what is the chief drawback to his pleasure in society he will tell you that it is an overpowering bashfulness, which prevents him from expressing himself with the fluency he desires, and that his great wish when mixing in society is to receive sympathy and gentle encouragement to enable him to feel at his ease.”

“From what I recollect of your friend, Mr Adair, I should have thought it difficult to find a young man more at his ease in any society into which he may be thrown,” observed Lady Rogers, who was somewhat matter of fact; “I beg therefore, my dear Jack, that you will not persuade your sisters to give him any of that sympathy and gentle encouragement he wishes for, or I do not know where he will stop short.”

“Depend on me, mother, I will be as discreet as a judge,” said Jack, who had thus succeeded as he desired in turning the thoughts of Lady Rogers and his sisters from the yellow fever and hurricanes of the West Indies, and the conversation for the remainder of breakfast-time became general.

He wrote immediately to his two old messmates, begging them to come at once, and telling them of his appointment to the Plantagenet. Much to his regret, and possibly to that of his sisters, who were curious to see into what sort of persons the young midshipmen had grown, they could neither of them immediately avail themselves of his invitation. They congratulated him on his good luck, and said that as their friends were exerting their interest to get them afloat it was possible that they might ere long meet again, though as they were of the same standing in the service they could not hope all to be appointed to one ship. Alick Murray wrote from Scotland. He had taken under his wing a young orphan cousin, Archy Gordon, who longed to go to sea. Alick said that his great wish was to have the lad with him, should he get a ship, “if not,” he added, “I shall be thoroughly satisfied to have him with either you or Adair, as I am sure that you will both stand his friend in case of need, and keep an eye on him at all times.”

“Of course I will,” said Jack to himself. “Murray’s friends must always be my friends, and those he cares for I must care for; however, I hope that he will not be allowed to rust long on shore; little chance of it when once he has made himself known.”

Adair was in Ireland. “Things are not quite so bad as I expected to find them in the halls of my ancestors,” he wrote. “Although the estate with its thousands of acres of forest and bog was knocked down as I told you, the old castle of Ballymacree, with a few dirty acres surrounding it, was bought back again, and still serves as a residence for my father and mother, and the best part of a score of my brothers and sisters, and the wives and husbands and children of the elder ones—a pretty large party we make, you may fancy. I felt myself quite lost at first among them all, and the noise and confusion which prevailed after the quiet and regularity of a man-of-war quite confounded me; however, I have got accustomed to it now, and can join heartily in the fun and frolic which goes on from morning till night, and considering my bashful and retiring disposition, this will show you that I feel myself at home and perfectly happy.”

“I said so,” exclaimed Jack triumphantly, showing the letter to his sisters; “I told you what a quiet, sedate fellow Terence has become, and here is proof of it. Let us see what more he says.” Jack read on:—

“I confess, however, that the sooner I am away and afloat again, the better for the rest of the family. How they all manage to exist is to me a puzzle. To be sure there are fish in the streams and neighbouring lakes, and game in abundance, which we retain the right of shooting; and sheep on the hills, which, as my father does not attempt any new-fangled plans for improving the condition of the people, are allowed to exist; and there are praties in the fields, and fruit and vegetables in the garden; but there is a scarcity of flour and groceries, and instead of the claret which, in the good old days, flowed freely at table, we are reduced to drink whisky, of which the excise has not always had an opportunity of taking due cognisance. My father does not quite see the matter in the light I do, and was inclined to be offended when I ordered down a cask of the cratur from Dublin, as a salve to my conscience, and a few dozen of claret, as a remembrance of days gone by; but as the latter went in about as many evenings, we shall have to stick to the whisky in future. However, if the house holds together till the Plantagenet is paid off, I can promise you plenty of amusement of one sort or another, and the enjoyment of magnificent scenery, if you, my dear Jack, will pay a visit to Ballymacree. You may depend, too, on as hearty a welcome as I am sure I should have received by your family had I been able to avail myself of your invitation. To be sure we muster somewhat stronger than you do, I suspect, and, might possibly exhibit, what with your sedate English ideas you would consider an exuberance of spirits, and I am almost afraid that you would think my five fair young sisters rather hoydenish young ladies, compared to your own. One of them, Kathleen, is looking over my shoulder and exclaims, ‘Arrah, now Terence, don’t be after saying that same, or Leeftenant Rogers will be thinking us a set of wild Irish girls, with no more civilisation than a family of gipsies;’ but I tell her I won’t scratch out what I have written, but I’ll add that she’s not the ugliest of the lot; so, dear Jack, when you do come, you can form your own opinion; I only wish that I had the chance of making some prize-money for their sakes. By-the-bye, the eldest of them, Nora, who, at sixteen, married Gerald Desmond, has got a son called after his father, who has taken it into his head to go to sea, and as nothing I can say will make him alter his mind, I suppose he must have his way. I have written to our cousin, Lord Derrynane, and asked him to try and get Gerald appointed to the Plantagenet, as I should like him to be under Hemming and you. He is a ‘broth of a boy,’ as we say here, and I know for my sake, Jack, that you will look after him. They say that he is very like me, which won’t be in his disfavour in your eyes—though I don’t think I ever was such a wild youngster as he is; not that there’s a grain of harm in him. Mind that, and he’ll soon get tamed down in the navy. I don’t think I ever wrote so long a letter in my life, and so as it’s high time to bring it to an end, farewell, Jack, till we meet, and may that be soon, is the sincere wish of,

“Yours ever faithful and true,

“Terence Adair.”

“Of course I will look after his nephew, as I would my own brother. I’ll write and tell him so, though he knows it,” exclaimed Jack; “and now, Lucy, what do you think of my old shipmate?”

“I cannot exactly say that I admire the style of his epistle, but I have no doubt that he is as kind-hearted and brave as you describe him,” answered Lucy.

“I don’t mean to say that he is much of a letter-writer,” said Jack; “but at all events he writes as he feels and speaks, in the belief that no eye but mine would read what he had written. His mind is like a glass—it can be seen through at a glance; and he has no idea of concealing a single thought from those he trusts, though he is close enough with the world in general; and I can tell you that he is as true as steel, and as brave and high-spirited as he is kind-hearted and generous.”

“A perfect hero of romance,” observed Lucy, laughing; “I am really sorry that he is not coming here to enable us to judge of him fairly.”

Possibly Lucy thought more about Lieutenant Adair than she chose to acknowledge. She could not, however, help reflecting that her mamma would look upon an Irish half-pay naval lieutenant, with a host of penniless brothers and sisters, in no very favourable light, should he come in the character of a suitor, so that after all it was just as well he could not accept Jack’s invitation.

Jack made the most of his time while he remained at Halliburton Hall, winning the good-will of everybody in the neighbourhood. He laughed and talked and danced with the fairer portion in the most impartial manner; young and old, pretty and plain, all came in for a due share of his attentions. His sisters were quite vexed with him for not falling in love with one of three or four of their especial friends. They had a preference for a Julia Giffard; but should Jack fail to lose his heart to Julia, or Julia decline bestowing hers on him, there were at least three others of almost equal attractions and perfections, either of whom they could love as a sister-in-law; and it would be so delightful, while Jack was away, to have some one to whom they might talk about him, and to whom he would write such delightful letters which they, of course, would have the privilege of reading.

Then, some day, when he was a commander or post-captain, he would come home, and marry, and settle down in a pretty little cottage near them, and take to gardening, as many naval officers do, and be so happy. One day they delicately broached the subject to Jack. He burst into a hearty laugh.

“I fall in love with Julia Giffard!” he exclaimed. “My dear girls, what a miserable fate you are suggesting for your friend. Suppose she were to engage herself to me! Away I go for three or four years; back for two months, and off again for a cruise of like duration as the first. In the mean time she meets half-a-dozen more likely fellows than I am, as far as money is concerned at all events, but cannot encourage them on account of her fatal engagement to me; and perhaps, after all, I get knocked on the head and never come home at all, while the best years of her youth have gone by. No, no, girls; young naval officers who intend to follow up their profession have no business to marry; that’s my opinion, and I intend to act on it.”

Jack’s sisters were disappointed, for they saw that he was in earnest, and had sound sense on his side, still they were not inclined to give in.

“Then why were you so anxious to get your two brother officers to come here?” asked Lucy, with considerable naïvété.

“Whew! was that running in your head, missie?” cried Jack. “There’s no use denying the fact.”

What that fact was Jack did not say. Lucy blushed, and said no more about Julia Giffard to her hard-hearted brother. Jack went on as usual, making himself agreeable, to the best of his power, and no one would have suspected who saw them together, that the pretty Julia had been suggested to him as his future wife, least of all the young lady herself. He and every one of the family had soon another matter to engage their attention—Admiral Triton arrived. Tom on seeing him could scarcely conceal his agitation. The crisis of his fate, as he believed, had arrived. The Admiral was diplomatic, however, not knowing how Sir John, or at all events Lady Rogers, would receive his proposal to send off another of their sons as an offering to Neptune. He and Tom had a long talk, first in private. Tom acknowledged that he had serious thoughts of stowing himself away in Jack’s chest, not to come out till the ship was well at sea when he could not be landed; or, failing that plan, to run off and enter as a powder-monkey or cabin-boy under a feigned tame. Go he would he had determined, in some way or other, for if not, he should certainly fall into a decline, or at all events pine away till he was fit for nothing. As the Admiral looked at his sturdy figure and rosy cheeks he burst into a fit of laughter.

“I don’t fear any such result even should you meet with a refusal, Tom,” he observed, wishing to try him a little further.

“Oh, Admiral Triton, you don’t think that they would wish to make a parson or a lawyer of me surely?” exclaimed Tom, in a tone of alarm.

“I cannot say honestly that I consider you cut out exactly for either profession, though I have no doubt you would do your duty should you be induced to adopt one or the other,” was the answer. “However, I will speak to your father and mother, and if they give me leave I will see what can be done for you at the Admiralty, and should there be a vacancy get you appointed to Jack’s ship.”

Tom thanked the Admiral from the very bottom of his young heart, though he felt a qualm at the thoughts of the sorrow he should cause his mother, even should she consent to part with him her youngest born. It did not, it must be confessed, last very long, and he looked forward anxiously to the result of the Admiral’s application on his behalf.

Admiral Triton waited till after dinner, when the party were assembled in the drawing-room to broach the subject. A very short conversation with Sir John showed him that there would be no strong opposition on his part, and he accordingly stumped over to Lady Rogers, by whose side he seated himself on the sofa, sticking out his timber toe and commencing with a warm eulogy on Jack.

“A right gallant fellow is that son of yours. I knew from the first that he would turn out well; has fully equalled my expectations; had the true spirit of a sailor as a boy; we want a succession of such in the service; had I a dozen suits I would send them all to sea, that is to say if they wished to go. Naval men, generally, don’t think as I do, perhaps. They fancy that the country doesn’t appreciate their services, and, therefore, won’t appreciate their sons, and so look out for berths on shore for them; but it’s possible, Lady Rogers, that they over-estimate themselves. The case is very different with Jack; he is as modest as a maiden of sixteen, and yet as bold and daring as a lion; a first-rate officer; he’s sure to get on; he’ll be a commander in three or four years, and be a post-captain not long after. Now, there’s your boy, Tom, just such another lad as Jack was—sure to rise in the service; and yet he’d be thrown away in any other profession. If you send him to Oxford or Cambridge he’d expend all his energies in boat-racing, or steeple-chasing and cricket—very good things in their way, but bringing no result; whereas, the same expenditure of energy in the navy would insure him honour and promotion; and depend on it he’ll get on just as well as Jack.”

“But do you think, Admiral, that Tom really wishes to go to sea?” asked Lady Rogers, in a slightly trembling voice.

“No doubt about it; determined as a young fellow can be, with yours and his father’s permission,” answered the Admiral; and he gave an account of his conversation with Tom, assuring her ladyship that Sir John had no objection provided she would consent.

Lady Rogers called up Tom, who had been watching her and the Admiral from a distant part of the room, guessing what was going forward. With genuine feeling he threw his arms round his mother’s neck, and while, with tears in his eyes, he confessed that he had set his heart on going to sea, he told her how very sorry he felt at wishing to leave her.

“The news does not come upon me unexpectedly, my dear boy,” she answered, holding his hand and looking with all a mother’s love into his honest face. “I have long suspected that you wished to go to sea; but, as you did not say so positively, I thought, perhaps, that you might change your mind. However, as Admiral Triton assures me that you are cut out for a sailor, and that he can answer for your becoming as good an officer as your brother Jack is said to be, if your father gives his consent, I will not withhold mine.”

“Thank you, mother, thank you!” cried Tom, again throwing his arms round her neck, when something seemed to be choking him, and he could say no more.

“He has the right stuff in him, never fear, never fear, Lady Rogers,” said the Admiral, nodding his head approvingly behind Tom’s back; “he’ll do.”

The rest of the evening was spent in discussing several important points connected with Tom’s outfit, Jack being called in to the consultation. Admiral Triton confessed that, not expecting a refusal, he had already made all arrangements at the Admiralty for Tom to join the Plantagenet with Jack; and Tom, his ardent hopes realised, went to bed to dream of his dashing frigate, of Howe, Nelson, and Collingwood, of the countless adventures in which he expected to engage, and of the heroic exploits he had determined to perform.

Tom got up the next morning, feeling two inches taller, and walked about all day with the full consciousness that he was no longer a schoolboy, but a midshipman in the Royal Navy, with the right to demand due respect from all civilians; indeed the female portion of the establishment, with whom he was a monstrous favourite, were perfectly ready to humour him to his heart’s content. He had been the last baby in the family, and it was only a wonder that he had escaped being utterly spoiled. His manners did not escape the notice of the Admiral, who, highly amused, called him to take a turn in the grounds.

“A little advice from an old salt, who has seen no small amount of service, will do you no harm, my boy,” he began, after they had walked some way, talking of various matters. “You cannot steer a straight course, either on shore or afloat, without a definite object to guide you. Let yours be Duty. Never mind how disagreeable or how arduous or difficult it may seem, do that which you believe you ought to do, strictly obey the orders you receive, never neglect an opportunity of doing the right thing or of gaining professional knowledge, and never be tempted to do the wrong one. Every officer, remember, and man, too, from the commander-in-chief downwards, is bound to act to the best of his abilities for the good of the service. Whatever you are ordered to do, or however you may be treated by those above you, believe that they are actuated by that principle. If you remember that whatever you may be doomed to bear is for the good of the service, you will be able to endure an immense amount of what you may think hardship without grumbling. You will find a good many persons above you on board ship whom you will be bound to obey—your brother Jack among them. Be as zealous and as ready in obeying him as any one else. Never take offence from superiors or equals; it is the sign of a weak mind. When spoken to or even abused, whether you are in the right or the wrong, don’t answer again, and don’t be ashamed of expressing regret when anything has gone wrong. Do your best on all occasions—more you cannot do. There, Tom, I have given you a pretty long lecture; log it down in your memory, and act upon it. I repeat—let Duty be your guiding star; do your best for the good of the service, and don’t grumble at your superiors or abuse your inferiors. These are golden rules well worth remembering, my boy.”

“Thank you very much, Admiral Triton; I will try and not forget them,” answered Tom.

“By-the-bye, you’ll not find midshipmen of much ’count on board ship,” continued the Admiral, with a twinkle in his eye, watching to see how Tom took his remark. “Not only are they inferior in rank to all the commissioned officers, but to the three warrant officers who have risen from before the mast, and even the petty officers and men are inclined to treat them as nurses do the babies under their charge; so you must not be disappointed if you do not meet with the respect you may possibly expect from those whom you may look upon as your inferiors, though they’ll obey you readily when you repeat the orders you have received from your superiors.”

“I understand, Admiral,” said Tom, wincing a little at the remark about the babies, though he laughed as he spoke; “but I suppose, if I set to work to learn my duty and get quickly out of petticoats, I shall be sent away in charge of boats, as Jack used to be, and have opportunities of proving that I am worth something.”

“Well said, Tom; it won’t be long before you are breeched, depend on that,” said the Admiral, laughing and patting him on the back. “Just don’t mind asking for information from those able to afford it, and you will soon become a sailor.”

The last days at home went rapidly by. Tom enjoyed the satisfaction, shared in by the whole household, of appearing in his new uniform, an old one of Jack’s, which exactly fitted him, having been sent to Selby, the Portsmouth tailor, as a pattern. With no little pride also he buckled on a sword to his side, dirks having by that time gone out of fashion. Dreading the Admiral’s quizzing glances, he took the opportunity of his absence to exhibit himself, again putting on plain clothes before his return, and only at his mother’s request did he venture to resume his uniform at dinner, not again for many a day to appear in mufti.

Admiral Triton insisted on accompanying Jack and Tom to Portsmouth, where he was always glad of an excuse for going. It was a consolation to Lady Rogers to see Tom go off under Jack’s wing, as she knew that, as far as one human being can take care of another, Jack would watch over Tom. Jack left Halliburton without having, by word or look, confessed an attachment, even if he felt it, for Julia Giffard, or for any other young lady among his sisters’ dear friends. He and Tom were much missed, and certainly Julia Giffard, who came to stay there, took considerable interest in listening to his sisters’ accounts of Jack’s numerous exploits—so at least these young ladies fancied.

Chapter Two.

Admiral Triton at Portsmouth—The three old messmates meet each other, and their three young relatives become acquainted—The dinner at the “George” with Admiral Triton—Anecdotes—An eccentric commander—The frigate and corvette sail for the West Indies—A philosophical boatswain—Jolly time with fine weather—A heavy gale—Times change—Marines and midshipmen on their beam ends—Men lost—The midshipmen regain their appetites.

The Admiral and his two young friends were soon at Portsmouth. The former took up his quarters at the “George,” while Jack, who had remained at home to the last day allowable, accompanied by Tom, at once went on board the Plantagenet, lying alongside a hulk off the dockyard. He was warmly welcomed by Captain Hemming, and, much to his satisfaction, he found that the newly appointed first-lieutenant of the frigate was his old acquaintance Nat Cherry, lately second of the Dugong in the China Seas, from whence he had only just arrived. “The authorities give us but little time to enjoy the comforts and quiet of home,” he observed, “but it’s flattering to one’s vanity to discover that one’s services are considered of value; and so when Hemming applied for me I could not decline, on the plea that my health required recruiting after the hard work I went through in China, although my friends declare that I have become as thin as a lath, and have no more colour than a piece of brown leather. I cannot say that of you, Rogers, however.”

“Really, Cherry, you look to me as well filled out and as blooming as ever,” answered Jack, surveying the rotund figure and rosy cheeks of his new messmate; “you and I afford proof that hard work seldom does people harm. Idleness is the greatest foe to health of the two. And who is to be third of the frigate?”

“No one has as yet been appointed. The master and purser have joined—very good fellows in their way—with an assistant-surgeon, and three or four youngsters; among them young Harry Bevan, who was with us in the Dugong.”

“I am very glad of that,” said Jack; “Bevan is the style of lad I should wish as a companion for my young brother Tom.”

“Your brother, the youngster who came on board with you. I was sure of it; you are as like as two peas,” said Mr Cherry. “I hope that he’ll imitate you in all respects. It’s a satisfaction to have steady youngsters on board who keep out of scrapes and don’t give trouble.”

Tom—who had already made himself known to Harry Bevan—was called aft, and introduced by Jack to Mr Cherry, and felt very happy and proud as he looked along the deck of the fine frigate to which he belonged. It was no dream; there he was in reality, walking about and talking to Bevan and other fellows dressed like himself in midshipmen’s uniforms; and then he went into the berth, and took his seat among the others at dinner. It was just as Jack had described it; not very large, but, till the rest of the mess had joined, with just sufficient elbow-room. They had plenty of good things, for the caterer, old Higson, was something of an epicure; and Tom tasted grog for the first time, which he thought very nasty stuff, though he did not say so, as he knew that sailors liked it; and besides it would not be polite to express his opinion to Higson, who had evidently no objection to its taste. Altogether Tom was convinced that midshipmen, as he had always supposed, must lead very jolly lives. That very night, too, he was to sleep in a hammock, which he thought would be rare fun. He and his new messmates soon returned on deck, when the men who had been at dinner came tumbling up from below, and set to swaying up yards and hoisting in stores, the boatswain sounding his shrill pipe amidst the hubbub of noises—the officers, from Mr Cherry downwards, shouting at the top of their voices, and the men bawling and rushing in gangs here and there at headlong speed, hauling away at ropes till Tom felt more bewildered than he had ever before been in his life, and narrowly escaped being knocked over several times in spite of the efforts he made to keep out of the way. However, his experiences were only those of midshipmen in general when they first join a ship.

Tom had been advised by Jack to learn all about the masts and rigging as soon as possible, and he accordingly set to work without delay, asking questions of every one whom he for a moment saw standing quiet, and was likely to answer him. Harry Bevan told him a good deal, as did the other midshipmen, no one showing a disposition to humbug him, possibly on Jack’s account, who would have found them out if they had. Before night Tom began to fancy that he really knew something about a ship, though it might be some time before he could consider himself a thorough sailor.

Though the captain lived on shore, the first lieutenant had taken up his quarters on board; Jack finding plenty to do, and being economically inclined followed his example. A fine-looking corvette, the Tudor, was fitting out a little way higher up the harbour. Jack scanned her with a seaman’s eye, and thought that had he not been appointed to the frigate he should like to belong to her. It was still uncertain to what station the Plantagenet would be sent. No great difficulty, however, was found in getting men to enter for her. Sailors look more to the captain and officers than to the part of the world to which they are to go. One clime to them is much the same as another. They are as ready to go to the North Pole as to the coast of Africa, if they like the ship and the commander. Captain Hemming bore a good character, as did Lieutenants Cherry and Rogers, among those who had ever sailed with them. No persons are more thoroughly discussed than are naval officers by seamen; the wheat is completely sifted from the chaff, the gold from the alloy; and many who pass for very fine fellows on shore are looked upon as arrant pretenders afloat. Jack was making his way towards the shop of Mr Woodward the bookseller, when two seamen in a happy state of indifferentism to all sublunary affairs came rolling out of the street which debouches on the Common Hard near the Dockyard gates.

“I say, Dick, if that bean’t Jack Rogers, say I never broke biscuit!” exclaimed one of the men, pointing ahead with out-stretched arm.

“No doubt about it, Ben,” answered his companion, “I’d a known him a mile off, and I see’d last night in the paper that he’s appointed to the Plantagenet along with Captain Hemming. (Dick pronounced all the syllables long.) What say you? my pockets are pretty well cleaned out, and so, I’ve a notion, are yours. Shall we go and enter at once? It must come to that afore long.”

“I’m agreeable, Dick—when a thing’s to be done, it’s best to do it like men,” said Ben, just as they arrived in front of the bookseller’s shop, where they waited the reappearance of the lieutenant, Jack soon came out, and at once recognising two former shipmates in the Dugong, Dick Needham and Ben Snatchblock asked them if they were willing to join the Plantagenet. An affirmative being given, he begged them to pick up any other prime hands they could come across. By the evening, when he returned on board, he had, much to his satisfaction, obtained ten good men.

The next day Jack went on shore for the same purpose, accompanied by Tom, with the intention of calling on Admiral Triton before returning on board. They had just passed through the Dockyard gates when Jack saw approaching from the left, accompanied by a young midshipman, a lieutenant, whom it did not take him many seconds to recognise as his old messmate, Alick Murray. They did not exactly rush into each other’s arms as Frenchmen or Spaniards would have done, but they shook hands with honest warmth, and Jack exclaimed, “I thought you were in Scotland. Where have you sprung from, Alick?”

Murray then told him that he had been appointed as second lieutenant to the Tudor, Commander Babbicome, with orders to join immediately, which he had done the previous evening but having the outfit of a youngster to look after, and letters to write, he had been unable to get on board the Plantagenet. He turned round and introduced his companion, a tall, slight lad, as his cousin Archy Gordon, who had also been appointed to the corvette. Thereon Jack introduced Tom, and the two midshipmen, who had before been eyeing each other askance, shook hands, and of course at once fraternised. Tom felt very proud of being able to speak in an authoritative tone about the frigate to Archy, who had not as yet been on board the corvette, and had not even seen a ship of war except at a distance.

“We do things as smart as lightning aboard our frigate, I can tell you,” continued Tom. “Our first lieutenant is a very good fellow, and our second is my brother Jack, and there are not many like him. I’ve been twice up to the main truck, and ever so often into the mizen-top, and we’ve a capital mess, and shall be a jolly set when all hands join. Are you going to belong to us?”

“I dinna think so,” answered Archy, in a broad Scotch accent. “My cousin, that is my father’s sister’s son, Alick Murray there, is lieutenant of a ship they call the Tudor, and I’m to go alang wi’ him.”

“Oh, that’s the small craft fitting out ahead of us. She’s a fine little ship of her class though, so my brother Jack says, and so I may congratulate you, but of course she’s not to be compared to our frigate. I say, you must come and pay us a visit on board, and I’ll put you up to all sorts of things.”

Archy expressed himself much obliged, but cautiously refrained from accepting the invitation till he knew what his cousin Alick might say on the subject.

Meantime Jack and Alick Murray were talking eagerly together.

“And where are you bound for?” asked Jack.

“I heard through a friend at the Admiralty that the Tudor is to be sent to the same station as the Plantagenet, which, as you may suppose, gave me no slight satisfaction,” answered Murray.

“That is capital news,” cried Jack. “It will be curious if we keep together as lieutenants as much as we did as midshipmen, and go through as many more adventures as we have already fallen in with. I only wish that by some wonderful chance Paddy Adair could be with us.”

“And that same wonderful chance has brought him here,” exclaimed a voice from behind, and while a hand was placed on the shoulders of each, on looking round they caught sight of the merry countenance of Paddy himself, now smiling into the face of one, now into that of the other.

“It’s dropped from the clouds you are after thinking I am now,” he continued, laughing, “only they don’t as a rule rain such big fish as myself. Well then, to satisfy your curiosity you are indebted for the satisfaction of seeing me here this morning, to a peremptory missive from my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, directing me to hasten over from Ireland to join the Plantagenet as third lieutenant, and I needn’t tell you I never obeyed an order with more willing alacrity.”

“And I don’t think anything next to being made commander-in-chief right off could have given me greater satisfaction,” said Jack, who seldom indulged in anything so nearly approaching a sentimental speech.

Murray said something of the same sort.

While the three old school-fellows were carrying on an animated conversation, a third midshipman had joined Tom and Archy.

“Will ye be after telling me, if ye plase, who are those two leetenants my Uncle Terence is talking to?” he said, as he stepped up to them and made them a polite bow with his cap. Archy returned it, but Tom, who had discovered that it was not the fashion for midshipmen to bow to each other, only laughed, and asked as he pointed with his chin at the three lieutenants—

“Do you mean that merry-looking fellow between those two?”

“That same sure,” was the answer.

Tom explained who they were, adding, “And who are you, and what ship do you belong to?”

“Sure I don’t belong to one at all at all, but my Uncle, Terence Adair, is to be third lieutenant of the Plantagenet frigate, and I’m to be a midshipman with him; and in the matter of my name, I’m Gerald Desmond, of Ballymacree Castle, in County Clare, Ireland.”

“Well, Mr Gerald Desmond, of Bally—what do you call it, County Clare, Ireland? I have the pleasure of informing you that you are to be a messmate of mine, and as I’ve heard a good deal of your uncle, Paddy Adair, from my brother Jack, I shall be very happy to welcome you on board and to introduce you to the other fellows.”

Gerald expressed himself much obliged to Tom for the intended favour.

“But ye’ll not be after calling my Uncle Terence, Paddy, if ye plase,” he added, his Irish blood rising with the idea that some disrespect was shown to his relative.

“Don’t trouble yourself about that, my dear fellow,” said Tom, who never wished to quarrel with any one. “My brother Jack always calls him so, and the Paddy slipped out by mistake; but you may be very sure that you’ll be Paddy Desmond from the hour you step on board, and for ever after unless there’s another Irishman to deprive you of the title, though, probably, there’ll then be a brace of Paddies.”

“Faith, I’m not ashamed of my country, and I am perfectly happy to be Paddy Desmond if you and the other boys like to call me so,” answered Gerald, laughing.

Adair finding that it was not necessary to go on board the frigate immediately, accompanied his two friends into Portsmouth, the three young midshipmen following in their wake, Gerald having first been introduced to Jack and Alick. The youngsters were fast friends from that moment, laughing and rattling away, and playing each other all sorts of tricks. No one would have supposed that they had only just met for the first time in their lives. As they turned into the High Street the lieutenants encountered Admiral Triton stumping along in his flushing coat and weather-beaten hat. He recognised Murray and Adair at once, and invited them and Jack, with Tom and his two friends to dine with him at the “George” at six.

“I shall then hear how you like being a sailor. It isn’t too late to give it up,” said the Admiral, looking at Tom.

“Wouldn’t change if they would make me a judge or Archbishop of York,” answered Tom, in a positive tone.

“Just like Jack,” observed the Admiral, smiling, “I hope at the end of your cruise you’ll have no reason to repent your resolution.”

Jack during the day picked up several more men, and returned early on board; when Tom, with no little pride, introduced his new friend to the mess, as Mr Gerald Desmond, of Ballymacree Castle, County Clare, Ireland.

“Mr Gerald Desmond be hanged!” exclaimed old Higson, who had come down tired, after having worked hard all day, and was out of humour. “Call him Paddy Desmond at once. We have no misters in this berth.”

“And sure, so I am Paddy Desmond, and if it’s to show that I come from old Ireland, I’m proud of the title,” said Gerald, taking his seat, and looking about him with an air of unconcern.

“I told you so,” whispered Tom. “I knew from the first that they would call you Paddy.”

Gerald quickly made himself at home, and took in good part all the quizzing his messmates chose to bestow on him.

The dinner at the “George” went off capitally. The Admiral put his young guests at their ease, and let them talk and laugh away to their hearts’ content, telling them all sorts of amusing anecdotes, and though he took good care not to allow them to drink more wine than their heads could carry, they unanimously declared that he was the jolliest old fellow they had ever met. Of course, he did not forget to tell all the company boxy Adair had made him carry his portmanteau, and to chuckle over the story for five minutes at least.

“A pretty pass the service has come to when midshipmen take such liberties with their superiors, eh, Captain Sourcrout?” he exclaimed, giving a poke in the ribs with his elbow to a stiff, old, martinet style of post-captain, who sat next to him, and had looked utterly horrified at his story.

“The world’s turned upside down, isn’t it? We shall have the youngsters mast-heading us next, if we don’t exactly please them, eh?”

Captain Sourcrout, unable to speak from indignation, could only shake his head and frown terribly, at which the midshipmen, as he was not their captain, laughed the more heartily. The Admiral had heard, too, of the trick Jack and his messmates had played with Quirk, the monkey, on Lieutenant Spry, of the marines, and while he told the story as he had received it from Jack, with a few amplifications of his own, the tears ran down his eyes, till Captain Sourcrout, boiling over with indignation, exclaimed:

“The navy has indeed come to a pretty pass when such things are allowed. Instead of being mast-headed, the three midshipmen should have been brought to a court-martial, and dismissed the service.”

“But, my dear Captain Sourcrout, the affair happened a good many years ago, remember,” interrupted the Admiral, wishing to tranquillise him, “and had not leniency been shown to the culprits, the service would have lost three promising young officers likely to prove ornaments to it. However, I would advise other youngsters not to imitate them. Such tricks don’t bear repetition, I’ll allow. By-the-bye, Captain Sourcrout, are you acquainted with my old shipmate, Jerry Hazledine? He served under me as a youngster, and I have kept an eye on him ever since. He hailed from Ireland, and as all his ways and doings savoured strongly of the Emerald Isle, he was known as Paddy throughout the service.”

The Admiral went on, without wailing to hear whether Captain Sourcrout was or was not personally acquainted with the officer in question.

“Paddy Hazledine was possessed of prodigious strength, though he seldom put it forth, except in what he considered the side of right and justice. His notions, to be sure, on these points, were occasionally like himself, somewhat eccentric; ha! ha! ha! I remember it as if it were yesterday. Coming up High Street one night, I saw a crowd collected round a lamp-post, not one of your modern iron affairs, but a stout, honest one of timber, with a cross-bar at the top as long as a sloop’s cross-jack-yard. Seated with his legs over it was Paddy Hazledine in full rig, cocked hat and sword—he was a lieutenant then as composed as possible, smoking a cigar, which, it appeared, he had got up there for the purpose of lighting at the huge glass lamp, as big as a seventy-four’s poop-lantern. While he held on with one hand, in the other he flourished a formidable shillaly, which he usually carried, as he declared, in order to keep the peace when more warlike weapons could not be used. Below him stood half-a-dozen watchmen, who, in angry tones, were ordering him to come down, while he, in eloquent language, was asserting his right to be where he was, and proclaiming his intention of remaining there as long as suited his pleasure. Every now and then the watchmen made a rush at him with their cudgels, the blows from which his faithful shillaly enabled him to ward off, and occasionally to bestow a pretty heavy tap on the heads of the most daring of his assailants.

“‘Is it breaking the peace I am, do ye say?’ he exclaimed. ‘Not at all at all. It’s you are doing the same, and running the risk of getting your on heads broken as the consequence. Now be off wid you, and lave a quietly-disposed citizen to his meditations.’

“I kept out of sight to see what would happen next. At length the watchmen lost patience. While three of their number remained at a respectful distance from the heavy end of the shillaly to prevent Paddy from escaping, the others went off, as I supposed, for a ladder and further assistance. Hazledine, fearless of consequences, sat smoking his cigar with perfect composure. Presently a dozen watchmen came trooping up, some armed with sticks and others with crow-bars and pick-axes and spades. Their object was evident. While one party began digging away round the lamp-post, the others defended them by fierce assaults with their sticks on the gallant lieutenant’s legs, giving him enough to do for their defence, and thus preventing him from bringing down his weapon on the heads of their comrades. Still he showed every intention of keeping his seat, and notwithstanding the violent shaking which the working party gave the post as they got near the heel, he held on. At length, several stout fellows putting their shoulders to it, up it came, but instead of toppling it over, away they marched, carrying off Paddy in triumph, as they thought, to the watch-house; but they little knew the man they had got hold of. He seemed to enjoy the fun, and sat smoking as before, and occasionally indulging in a quiet laugh. Suddenly uttering a wild Irish shout, he sprang over the heads of his bearers, and with a whirl of his shillaly, scattering those who attempted to stop him, he darted down a narrow lane, the end of which they were passing at the time, and disappeared from sight. As his ship sailed the next morning, the police of Portsmouth searched in vain for the culprit, who, getting undiscovered on board, did not fail to amuse his messmates with a full account of his exploit; ha! ha! ha!”

The Admiral laughed heartily at his story, as, of course, did everybody else, with the exception of Captain Sourcrout, who, grimly smiling, observed—

“I should have brought that harum-scarum lieutenant to a court-martial pretty sharply.”

“What for—smoking a cigar on the top of a lamp-post?” asked the Admiral. “It is not against the articles of war.”

“No, Admiral Triton, but for conduct unworthy the character of an officer and a gentleman,” answered Captain Sourcrout gruffly.

“Well, as to that, people may be allowed to have their opinion. It’s not a usual proceeding, I grant you, but the act was beyond the jurisdiction of his captain, and as Paddy was as gallant a fellow as ever stepped and never failed in his duty, I don’t think he would have been willing to act as you suggest. We must not forget that we were once upon a time youngsters ourselves, and we may possibly recall to mind some of the tricks we played in those days, ay, and after we had mounted a swab, or maybe two, on our shoulders. You remember the sentry-box which stood at the inner end of the landing-place on the Common Hard, with a comfortable seat inside it, rather tempting, it must be confessed, to a drowsily-disposed sentry to take a quiet snooze. Our fore-fathers had more consideration for the legs and feet of soldiers than the martinets of our times. To be sure, it a sentry was found asleep he ought have been flogged or shot, but he could sit down and rest himself, and if he did so it was at his own risk.

“One night several young commanders, there may have been a post-captain among them, coming down to the Common Hard, after a dinner-party on shore, to go on board their ships, found the sentry fast asleep in his sentry-box. They, of course, were as sober as judges; he, evidently, drunk as a fiddler. They thereon held a consultation, and came to the unanimous conclusion that it was meet and fit that a man guilty of so flagrant an infraction of military discipline should receive condign punishment, and constituting themselves the executioners as well as the judges of the law, forthwith set about carrying out the sentence they had pronounced. Calling up the strongest men of their boats’ crews, they ordered them to shoulder the sentry-box and its sentry within, and to carry it down to one of the boats as gently as possible, not to awake the occupant. There, however, was little chance of that. Safe on board,—there being no witnesses but themselves to the operation,—the boat containing it was towed across to the Gosport shore, on which, being carefully landed, it was set up in its proper position, facing the harbour. Great, as may be supposed, was the consternation of the ‘Relief’ when it arrived at the post, to find sentry-box and sentry gone. The soldier could not have walked off with it as a snail does its shell on its back. A rigid search was instituted, but no sign of sentry or box could be discovered, and the sentry at the Dockyard gates, having also been snoozing at the time, had neither seen nor heard anything unusual. The captain of the guard, unable, even by a conjecture, to solve the mystery, considered it of sufficient importance to report without delay to the major, who, jumping to the conclusion, as he heard it when awakened from his first sleep, that the French had made their way into the harbour, and were about to assault the town, turned out the guard, ordered the draw-bridge to be hauled up, and, like a wise soldier, took every precaution to avoid surprise. Not till the next morning was his mind set at rest, when a report came from across the harbour that a sentry-box had been found on the Gosport shore, where one had not stood the night before, with a sentry in front of it, who could give no account of how he got there. The sentry, on awaking at daybreak, had in vain looked for the objects he expected to see around him, but deemed it prudent to maintain his post. When questioned, he roundly asserted that he had been broad awake all night, and the only conclusion to which he or any one else could come, was that he had been the victim of some trick of witchcraft.”

“Were you, admiral, among those who played it?” asked Captain Sourcrout “because then the less I say on the subject the better.”

“A man is not compelled by law to give evidence against himself,” answered the admiral, laughing. “I give the tale current at the time, and happened to have been informed of the facts which solved the mystery. I should say that Jerry Hazledine had nothing to do with it, as it was before his day. He has a good many things set down to his account.”

“Some of them were true bills, however,” observed another post-captain. “I was a midshipman under him when he commanded the old Turk. Though good-natured he was somewhat hot-tempered. One of our marines had been bred a barber, and Jerry, discovering this, made the man come in every morning to shave him, the steward following with a jug of warm water. It had just been placed on the table as the barber had finished lathering the captain’s face, but instead of being only warm was scalding hot. The marine, not reflecting on this, dipped in his razor, and intending to commence operations on the captain’s upper lip, touched the tip of his nose with the back. As Jerry felt the pain, on the impulse of the moment up went his fist, which he planted with a knock-down blow between the eyes of the unfortunate jolly, who rolled over, half-stunned, on the deck. I, at that moment, went into the cabin, having been sent on some duty or other, and heard Jerry shout out in a voice of thunder:—

“‘Take that, ye spalpeen, and think yourself fortunate to get it instead of the three dozen you would have had as sure as you’re alive for burning your captain’s nose.’ The captain, in half a minute, sitting down as if nothing had happened, the jolly picked himself up and went on with the operation, taking very good care, you may be certain, not to burn Jerry’s nose again. Some time after this, our captain received an intimation from the Admiralty, as did other captains, that flogging was as much as possible to be avoided, and other punishments substituted. On this, Jerry, who was possessed of an inventive turn of mind, set himself to work to devise such as would to a certainty be so hated by the men that they would answer the purpose of maintaining discipline fully as much as flogging. The ship’s cook was a one-legged negro, a jolly, fat fellow with a comical expression of countenance, Sambo Lillywhite by name, generally known as Sam Lilly. Sam had a white mate called Tim Dippings, an incorrigibly idle rascal. One day Tim—not for the first time—had neglected to clean the galley, and on being reported, both he and Sam Lilly were put in the black list. Jerry, exercising his inventive genius, ordered Tim to walk the deck the whole of the afternoon watch, with a cauldron slung round his neck half full of slush; while the black cook, with a huge frying-pan held at arm’s length in each hand, had to pace up and down for the same period. As each bell struck Tim had to sing out, ‘Here am I for not cleaning the galley,’ which was responded to by Sambo, in the most dolorous tone, with, ‘I here for no see ’um do it,’ his peculiar voice and the comical expression of his countenance eliciting roars of laughter from his shipmates. Thus at every half-hour the words went sounding along the deck, ‘Here am I for not cleaning the galley!’ ‘I here for no see ’um do it.’ Jerry, however, on another occasion, surpassed even himself, he caught a man smuggling a bottle of rum on board. The opportunity for exhibiting his inventive genius was not to be lost. The bottle was captured and the man put in the black list. The captain, after due consideration, ordered a cock to be fixed in a seven-gallon beaker, into which, being more than half-filled with water, the rum was emptied. It was then secured by a rope yarn round the neck of the culprit, who appeared thus at the commencement of the watch with a tumbler in his hand, and as the bell struck he had to fill his glass and drink the contents, shouting out at the top of his voice each time, ‘Here am I, a smuggler bold!’ He was never again caught smuggling spirits on board. Some captains with less inventive genius are much more cruel than was our friend Jerry in their black list punishments.”

“That is not a subject I wish to bear spoken of,” observed Captain Sourcrout, in an angry tone.

“Come, come, we’ll change it then, gentlemen,” exclaimed the good-natured admiral.

“I forgot,” whispered Jack’s neighbour to him. “Old Sourcrout is said to have had a man’s head shaved, and to have made him carry a kettle of boiling water on the top of it for two hours during every day-watch for a week, but that may be scandal.”

“As to the shaving I fancy so, but with regard to the water it is true enough, only it was not boiling,” answered Jack. “He got hauled up for it, notwithstanding, and no wonder that he does not like the subject of black-listing spoken of.”

Notwithstanding the grumpy remarks Captain Sourcrout occasionally let drop, the party went off very pleasantly, and Desmond and Gordon assured Tom that he had not overpraised the admiral, and that they had no notion there were such jolly old fellows in the navy. He, at all events, was worthy of all the patronage they could bestow.

Murray came on board the frigate the next day to see Jack and Terence. He was pleased with the corvette as far as she herself was concerned.

“She is as fine a little craft as I could wish for, but,” he added, “the commander is one of the oddest fish I ever fell in with. He has not been to sea for a number of years, and having, as he says, turned his sword into a ploughshare, has devoted his mind to farming and rural sports. Unwilling to tear himself altogether from his beloved beeves and sheep, and pigs and poultry, he has brought them along with him, and has converted the little ship into a regular Noah’s ark. The boats are turned into sheep-pens and hen-coops, and the decks cumbered with ox-stalls and hay-stacks. If the latter, in the meantime, do not catch fire, the admiral, when he comes to inspect us, will order them and the greater portion of the live-stock to be landed, and we shall probably benefit by the remainder, as they must be killed for want of food, so we have said nothing to him as yet on the subject; but Haultaut, our first, grumbles and looks askance at the beasts every time he goes along the deck, and declares that the ship is more like a Thames barge than a man-of-war, while Grummet, the boatswain, grins ominously at them, and tells the butcher to keep his knife sharp, as he will have work enough on his hands before long. Old Babbicome is afflicted, it seems, with absence of mind. The day after he joined the ship he sang out to a midshipman, ‘Let my cab be brought round to the door.’ The youngster stared. ‘Do you hear? What did I say?’ ‘You desired to have your cab brought round to the door, sir,’ answered the midshipman, trying to stifle his laughter. ‘Ah! did I?’ exclaimed the commander. ‘Well, possibly. It’s no easy matter to change one’s mode of expression on a sudden. I mean, man my gig; I am going on shore.’ The first day he attempted to carry on duty, he threw all the crew into convulsions by shouting out, ‘Wo-ho! wo-ho, there! I mean, avast hauling, you lubbers!’ and he swore and stamped with rage when he saw the men tittering near him, and wanted to know what they were laughing at.”

Probably, we shall hear more of Commander Babbicome. Murray’s account highly amused his friends.

“Well, Alick, you may possibly pick up a few wrinkles which may be of use to you when your time comes, and you settle down on the Highland farm you used to talk about,” said Jack, laughing.

“I would sacrifice so remote a benefit for the sake of having the ship look rather more like a man-of-war than she does at present,” answered Murray.

Two days after this a lighter was seen alongside the corvette, when truss after truss of hay was lowered into her. Then came two fat oxen and lastly, nearly a dozen sheep.

“Any more coming?” asked the master of the lighter.

“No, no,” exclaimed the commander, who had been looking on with ruthful countenance, adding, as he turned aft, clenching his fist, and pulling at his hair, “I’d sooner throw up my command than part with them.”

The frigate and corvette were ready for sea at the same time, and went out together to Spithead. Still their destination was unknown. The tailors, the Jews, and even the bumboat-women were unable to solve the mystery, the fact being that the Lords of the Admiralty had not decided themselves. Ships were wanted at three different stations, but economy being the order of the day, all three could not be supplied. The West Indies, the South American station and the Pacific were spoken of. At length Captain Hemming announced that he had received orders to proceed to Jamaica, and that the Tudor was to accompany the Plantagenet. More stores and provisions were received on board, till every locker and cranny in the two ships was filled, as Adair remarked, to bursting.

Admiral Triton came on board the frigate to wish his young friends good-bye.

“I cannot say that I hope you’ll come back crowned with glory and your pockets filled with prize-money, for such things are not to be picked up now-a-days,” he said, shaking Jack’s hand, “but may you enjoy health and happiness and have many a long yarn to spin about your adventures in the West Indies or wherever you may be sent to, and I suspect that your captain has got orders to proceed rather farther than you at present expect.”

As the kind old admiral went down the side, the anchor was run up to the bows, to the sound of the merry fife, the topsails were sheeted home, and the two ships glided westward over the smooth waters of the Solent. It was a lovely morning, a few fine weather clouds were to be seen here and there in the sky, but there were not enough of them to obscure the noon-day splendour of the sun. The duck trousers and shirts of the crews looked clean and summerish; the new gold lace on the uniforms of the officers glittered brightly as they paced the deck, or hurried here and there as duty called; the sentries with gleaming arms and white belts; the fresh paint, the light-coloured copper, the snowy canvas, all indicated that the ships were just out of harbour, to many an admiring eye from Ryde pier, and from yachts large and small, as the frigate followed by the corvette, with a leading wind, ran past the shores of the Isle of Wight, towards the Needles passage. Numberless yachts skimmed by them; those fairy-like fabrics which Englishmen alone know how thoroughly to enjoy, varying in size from Lord Yarborough’s superb Falcon, to the tiny craft whose owner is probably proud of her in inverse ratio to her tonnage. All is not gold that glitters, and the fair admirers of the graceful frigate and corvette would have been somewhat horrified, could they have witnessed the various scenes taking place within the dark recesses of the ships, and had they heard the language, neither refined nor pious, uttered by their sturdy crews, and it must be confessed by some of the officers also—not by Jack Rogers though—for neither oath nor unbecoming phrase ever issued from his honest hips. The mate of the lower deck, with the purser’s clerks and assistants, had provisions and articles innumerable to stow away; the gunner, boatswain, and carpenter, their respective stores to look to; indeed, in every department order had to commence its reign, where chaos had hitherto seemed to prevail, operations not to be performed without their due allowance of shouting and swearing. On deck all went smoothly, and under the pleasantest of auspices the two ships ran through the Needles, and stood down channel.

Tom and Paddy Desmond (for, of course he was so called, as Tom said he would be) were as jolly as possible, and laughed at sea-sickness, or any of the ills landsmen are subject to; they were not going to be ill, not they. Already they began to consider themselves first-rate sailors, for they could go aloft and skylark as fearlessly as young monkeys, and box the compass; and had some notion when the helm was a-lee, and the head-sails backed against the mast, that the ship would come about. As yet, to be sure, they had had only light winds and smooth water, but even a heavy gale would make no difference to them, of that they were very sure. Old Higson grinned sarcastically when he heard them say so.

“Oh, of course, sucking Nelsons like you are above such weaknesses; we shall see, though, when the time comes. The proof of the pudding is in the eating.”

“Faith, I hope to have some better pudding to eat than this hard duff,” answered Paddy, who seldom understood the meaning of the proverbs Higson was in the habit of quoting. The old mate only laughed; though he had a colt, to keep the turbulent in order, he seldom used it, treating the two youngsters with more consideration than he might have done under other circumstances, out of respect to Rogers and Adair, though they were under the impression that it was owing to their own merits, and were apt accordingly to take liberties with him. He behaved to them as a good-natured bear might towards a couple of playful children whom he could munch up in a moment.

“I say, Tom, couldn’t we be after playing some trick like that the admiral told us of, which your brother and my uncle Terence played off on Lieutenant Spry, with Quaco, the monkey,” said Gerald, one day to his messmate, when they were alone together; “it would be mighty good fun.”

“I should like to do something of the sort amazingly, but once when Jack was telling me some of the tricks of his midshipman-days, he gave me a strong hint not to imitate them, as he would certainly be down upon me,” answered Tom; “for all he is so good-natured, he can be wonderfully strict, I can tell you. He was saying that tricks are very well in their way if they are original and have fun in them, but that those who play them must look out for the consequences.”

“I shouldn’t have supposed that of him,” said Gerald; “I’m after thinking now that my uncle Terence would be as ready for any fun as he ever was in his life.”

“Very likely, but he mightn’t approve of our indulging in it notwithstanding,” answered Tom; “however, if you can think of anything, I’m willing enough to lend a hand. We can’t play Lieutenant Jennings such a trick as they did old Spry, because he’s too wide awake and wouldn’t stand it; besides, we’ve no Quaco to dress up in his uniform. By-the-bye, I hope that we shall be able to get a jolly monkey before long, at Jamaica or elsewhere. I don’t know if they run wild in the woods there, indeed it might be as well to have a civilised one who knows how to behave himself, and then I think we might manage to play old Scrofton, the boatswain, a trick.”

“How?” asked Gerald eagerly.

“Don’t you know that he has got a notion in his head that men are descended, or rather, I should say, ascended from apes, which he declares has been proved by a Lord Monboddo, or some other wiseacre, and if we had a monkey, we might somehow or other put his theory to the test, and, at all events, have some fun with the old fellow.”

“Capital; I’ll think over what can be done,” exclaimed Gerald, rubbing his hands with glee; “do the gunner and carpenter agree with him?”

“No; the three are constantly disputing on the subject. I heard them yesterday, and they are probably at it again to-day. Come below; it will be good fun to hear them.”

The midshipmen found the three warrant officers in the boatswain’s cabin. He was seated; the others standing at the door, leaning against the bulkheads. They took up a position, so as not to be seen within earshot. The gunner was arguing that if men have grown out of monkeys, there would be none of the latter left, as they would all have turned into men; and the carpenter declared that though he had wandered all the world over, he had never met with one half-way between a man and a monkey, which he should have done if any change does take place.

“Have you ever seen apes without tails?” asked old Scrofton triumphantly.

“Yes,” answered Gimlett, “with blue faces and hinder-ends of the same colour, but they moved on all fours, and though we had one aboard, and did our best to teach him to speak, and light a fire, and make himself useful, he could never do anything, and remained as great a beast as ever to the cud of his clays.”

“Of course,” said Blake, the gunner; “a man’s a man, and a beast’s a beast; and there are no greater beasts than apes; that’s my opinion, whatever Lord What-do-ye-call-him, or any other of your philosophers says to the contrary.”

“I tell you it’s all down in my book as clear as a pikestaff, and it’s my Lord Monboddo says it,” exclaimed Mr Scrofton indignantly. “He, I should think, would know more about the matter than any warrant officer in her Majesty’s service, or any captain or commander to boot.”

The midshipmen’s laughter made the gunner pop his head out, when they, feeling ashamed of acting longer the part of eaves-droppers, moved off.

“Old Scrofton is fair game anyhow,” said Desmond. “I wonder a man can be such a fool.”

“He is a very good boatswain, notwithstanding, my brother Jack says,” observed Tom.

Mr Scrofton was a character, as are many other warrant officers. They must, indeed, besides being sober and steady and good seamen, be somewhat above the average as to intellect to obtain their appointments, while their eccentricities and peculiarities have generally not till then been noticed. Possessing but a limited amount of education, the boatswain of the Plantagenet endeavoured, on attaining his present rank, to instruct himself; and having no one to advise him, he had purchased some books at haphazard, the contents of which he respected the more that they were totally beyond his comprehension. The work mentioned was among them, and as he thought that he understood it best it was his chief favourite. He was a short, spare man, with a red face tanned by tropical suns, ferrety eyes, sharp as needles, and huge black whiskers which stuck out like studding-sails on either side of his countenance. Once upon a time it was reported a Russian admiral, on visiting the ship to which he belonged, was much astonished when Scrofton was pointed out to him as the boatswain. “What, so small a fellow as that?” he exclaimed; “we always select our boatswains from men six feet high and upwards, who can use their rattans with good effect.” Small as he was the boatswain of the Plantagenet had a voice which could be heard amid the loudest strife of the elements; and being a thorough seaman he was respected by the crew in spite of his philosophical notions, about which they cared nothing. He was extremely loath to get the men punished if he could help it, and never swore at them in the way they called swearing—not that they would have minded it much if he had—though he occasionally seasoned his remarks with expressions gleaned from his books, which had the more force that their meaning was utterly incomprehensible. He entertained a friendly feeling for the two young midshipmen, whom he took great pains to instruct in their nautical duties; and under his tuition they soon gained a fair knowledge of the arts of knotting, splicing, and other practical details of their profession; nor did he entertain a suspicion that they held his philosophical opinions otherwise than in profound respect. Jack and Adair gave them lessons in navigation, so that they had advantages not generally possessed by youngsters in those days who had not been to the Naval College. Tom, having got the start, though only of a few days, kept steadily ahead of his companion. He had had the advantage of better training at school, as far as navigation was concerned. Dick Needham, also, who had been rated as boatswain’s-mate, was another of their instructors; and as he was always in good humour, and took the greatest possible pains to teach them all he knew, they gained as much from him as from any one else.

The frigate and corvette sailed forward on their course across the Atlantic, with every stitch of canvas they could carry set slow and aloft. Two or three times they were totally becalmed, when the officers of the two ships paid visits to each other. Murray, with Archy Gordon, had come on board the Plantagenet.

“Well, Gordon, how do you get on aboard the corvette?” was the natural question put by Tom.

“Vary weel, but we’ve much the same sort of thing to do every day; washing and holy-stoning decks in the morning, and exercising at the guns and mail arms in the forenoon, and studying navigation and seamanship, and sic like,” answered Archy.

“Faith, that’s what we’ve to do here,” said Gerald. “I came to sea to enjoy some fun; but we’ve not had much of it yet, though, to be sure, we lead a jolly life, take it all in all.”

“The fun will come in time,” observed Tom. “We never can tell what will turn up—perhaps before long—who knows?”

Murray was with Jack and Terence in the gun-room.

“Well, and how does old Babbicome get on?” asked Jack.

“He is amusing enough, but not altogether satisfactory as a commander,” answered Murray. “He and Haultaut are continually disputing, and he never comes on deck without finding fault, at which Haultaut very naturally sets up his back, and generally finishes by going below. The commander seldom attempts to carry on duty, and that only in fine weather, without making some egregious blunder, and he always excuses himself by observing, ‘I don’t admire the new-fangled ways you young men have of doing things. We managed matters very differently on board the old Orion, I can tell you,’ or, as he walks up and down the deck examining everything not in existence when he was last at sea, he exclaims, ‘We’ll change all this presently—it doesn’t come up to my notions; never saw thingumbobs fitted in this way before.’ We have eaten most of his sheep, as it was necessary to kill them for want of provender; but if the rest live till we reach Madeira, he will, I conclude, lay in a fresh supply. His pigs are, however, his great delight. He gloats over them, and spends an hour every day in currying them as he would a horse. They do him credit, for they are as sleek and fat as poodles. Though he avows that he is fond of pork, I suspect that he will never bring himself to order one of them to be slaughtered. To his credit I must say that he does not swear at the men; he is not, however, liked by them. When a lieutenant he got the name of ‘Jib-and-Foresail Jack,’ and it sticks to him still. When he had the watch at night he would be always bothering them to alter sails, and it was, they say, ‘Up jib,’ and ‘Down jib,’ and ‘Up foresail’ and ‘Down foresail’ every minute. He carries on much in the same way at present, and seldom comes on deck without shaking his head as he looks aloft, and shouting out ‘Another pull at the lee-braces, Mr Haultaut;—we always trimmed sails properly on board the old Orion, sir,’ or some such complimentary remark to our much-enduring first. The boatswain has a dog—a favourite with the men—which goes by the no uncommon name of Shakings. The commander detests Shakings, who he unjustly declares worries his sheep. One evening poor Shakings fell overboard. The men were in despair, knowing that the commander would not dream of heaving-to to pick him up. I saw what had occurred, and was going to intercede for the dog when I heard a voice from forward sing out, ‘One of the captain’s pigs overboard—there he goes astern.’ The commander ran to the taffrail. Just then there was a splash, and as I looked over the side I saw one of his sleek pigs swimming as fast it could away from the ship. The commander soon caught sight of his favourite. The ship was hove-to, a boat lowered, and the boatswain, who jumped into her and managed to pick up the dog before he reached the other animal, avowed roundly that Shakings had jumped overboard to save the pig.”

Jack and Terence laughed heartily at Murray’s account of his commander, given as it was with all the gravity imaginable.

“Well, we bear with him as best we can,” he added, “and only hope that he may ere long return to the bosom of his family, and to the congenial pursuits which occupy his thoughts.”

A light breeze springing up compelled Murray and his companions to return to their ship. That night during the middle watch Tom and Gerald, who were fast asleep in their hammocks, were aroused by the boatswain’s shrill pipe and gruff voice bawling, “All hands on deck—shorten sail!” They turned out with the rest; most of the officers and crew were on deck before they reached it. The frigate, caught in a squall, was heeling over till her lee-scuppers were under water, while dark, foam-crested seas came rolling up, deluging her deck fore and aft. The fore-topgallant-mast had been carried away, and was striking against the fore-topsail, ready to sweep to destruction the hands who were swarming on the yard; the main and mizen-topgallant-sheets had been let fly, and the sails were flapping wildly in the gale; while the wind whistling through the rigging—ropes slashing about—the seas dashing—the bulkheads creaking—the masts and spars groaning, created a perfectly deafening uproar. Then came a clap like thunder—the foretack had parted, and the block striking a seaman had carried him overboard. To attempt to pick him up was useless—he must have been killed instantaneously. For a moment there was confusion; but the voice of the captain, heard above all other sounds, quickly restored order. While the topmen were clearing away the wreck of the fore-topgallant-mast, the most dangerous task, handing the main and mizen-topgallant-sails, and reefing topsails, the courses were hauled up, and the frigate righting flew forward on her course. The sudden movement threw Tom and Gerald, who had been holding on to the capstan, off their legs, and the next moment, as she again heeled over to the gale sent them rolling into the lee-scuppers, where they lay sprawling in the mass of water washing across the deck—Gerald striking out with arms and legs under the belief that he was overboard.

“Help! help! Heave us a rope. Where is it you are, Tom? Don’t be after giving up—swim away,” he cried out, as he got his head above the water still rushing round him.

Tom was striking out lustily, as Gerald soon discovered by a kick he received from his foot, of which he caught hold, supposing it to be the end of a rope. Tom struggled the more to release himself, having found out that he was safe on deck.

“Let go, I say, or I shall never get on my legs,” he exclaimed, kicking away with all his might.

“Arrah now, I’ll be drowned entirely,” bawled Gerald, as the water again washed over him. His shouts fortunately at this juncture attracted the attention of Jack, who, setting him and Tom on their legs, told them to go below and turn into their hammocks, as they were not of the slightest use on deck.

Drenched to the skin and crest-fallen, after holding on to each other for half a minute and gazing round them at the dark tumultuous billows, they did as they were bid, glad to strip off their wet clothes and endeavour to get between the blankets.

“Sure I’m after feeling mighty quare,” said Gerald, as he was trying to scramble into his hammock, but it would not remain quiet as it was accustomed to do.

“So do I,” groaned Tom, “I didn’t think anything could upset me, but this is awful.”

“Faith there’s but little fun in it at all at all,” cried Gerald, who had succeeded in getting in and covering himself up. “Will we all be drowned, do you think?”

“I hope not; my brother Jack seems to consider that there’s nothing in it, and of course he’s right—oh!”

The frigate gave a pitch, which made Tom feel as if he was going to be shot feet foremost along the deck.

“Arrah, now, where will we be after going to?” cried Paddy, from his hammock.

“Belay the slack of your jaws, youngsters,” growled out old Higson, who had just turned in after his watch, and being perfectly indifferent to all the rolling and pitching, and the wild uproar of the elements, wanted to go to sleep.

“If you make such a row, my colt and your backs will become acquainted with each other before long.”

“Why, man alive, it isn’t we are making the row, sure it’s the wind and the big waves outside the ship,” exclaimed Paddy.

The midshipmen’s small voices were, however, much more disturbing to the old mate than the sounds of the gale. A threatening growl was the only answer he condescended to make, as he had no intention to take the trouble of turning out of his hammock to execute the vengeance he promised.

Tom also by this time was dropping off to sleep, and Gerald shortly after followed his example. They ought properly to have kept the morning watch, but they were not called till the hammocks were piped up. They had then to turn out, feeling utterly unable to do anything but sit on their chests and languidly clutch their wet clothes. The two marines acting as their servants at length came aft, looking as pale and miserable as they were, and suggested that it would be wiser to get out some dry things. Dressing, after several pauses, was accomplished, and washing having been dispensed with, they managed to reel into the berth. There sat Higson, with coffee-pot in hand, and most of the other oldsters holding on to cups and plates, the biscuit-boat and more substantial viands being secured by puddings on the table.

“I’ve ordered some fat bacon especially for you fellows,” said the former, looking at Tom and Gerald; “it’s the best thing for you.”

“Oh, don’t,” they groaned in chorus. “Horrible!”

“Why don’t? You’ll never become sailors till you’ve eaten half a pound apiece every morning, for at least a week.”

The fat bacon was brought. Tom tried to lift a piece to his mouth at the end of his fork, but his hips curled, he could not have done it to save his life. Gerald essayed to do likewise with the same result.

They were not alone in their misery. The assistant-surgeon, two clerks, and another midshipman looked equally pale and miserable.

“Come, come, youngsters, munch away,” said Hickson; “it’s time to finish breakfast.”

“I wish to be a sailor,” cried Tom, again manfully lifting the piece of pork towards his loathing lips, but though his spirit was high his feelings overcame him, and he bolted out of the berth, followed by Gerald and several others, amid the laughter of the seasoned hands.

Tom’s misfortunes did not end here, for the frigate giving a violent roll he butted head foremost right between the legs of Mr Jennings, the tall lieutenant of marines, who not being especially firm on them just then, was upset in a moment. The rest of the party, including McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, escaping from the berth now came tumbling over them, and there the whole lay stretched on the deck, kicking frantically, as if knocked over by a dose of canister fired into their midst.

The prostrate officer, utterly unable to rise, shouted for some time in vain for assistance; at length his cries were heard by the corporal of marines and two of his men, who hurrying aft to his rescue, hauled off the superincumbent midshipmen and McTavish, and set Lieutenant Jennings, foaming with indignation, on his legs.

“Beg pardon, sir, I didn’t intend it,” cried Tom; “I won’t do it again.”

But Tom was counting without his host, for at that instant the ship, giving another roll, threw him once more against the luckless lieutenant, who grasping at the corporal, over they all went, McTavish and Gerald, who had been thrown against the other jollies, bringing them again right over Lieutenant Jennings to the deck.

“This is unbearable,” he spluttered out, “I’ll have you youngsters put under arrest. Marines, can’t you keep your legs? Help me up. Get off me, all you, I say.”

But as the marines could not help themselves, it could scarcely be expected that they could assist their officer, still less could the medico and the midshipmen. The serjeant, however, hearing the uproar, followed by a couple of his men, with a faint idea that a mutiny of some sort had broken out, hurried aft, and with the assistance of Higson amid the other oldsters who came out of the berth to see what was the matter, quickly got the mass of struggling humanity disentangled and placed in as upright position as circumstances would allow. The lieutenant ought really to have been much obliged to Tom, for his anger completely overcame the nausea from which he had been suffering; but ungrateful, like too many others, as Higson observed, he went back into the gunroom demanding condign punishment on the head of his benefactor and his messmates. He was saved thereby from witnessing the effect of that leveller of mankind, sea-sickness, on nearly half his men, who lay about the deck unable to move, and only wishing that the ship would go down and bring their misery to an end. Jack soon soothed the temper of his brother officer, who was a brave and really a good-natured man, and then went to look after Tom and Gerald. He advised them to lie down with their eyes shut in the berth which was now vacated, the occupants being called off to their respective duties, and the assistant-surgeon having retired into the dispensary to concoct a specific against sea-sickness of his own invention, which made him and those he persuaded to take it ten times worse.

Soon afterwards all hands were piped on deck, and the sea-sick had to appear as well as the rest. The report had been made to the captain that a man had been knocked overboard, but who was the sufferer was uncertain. The frigate was bravely breasting the foaming billows under close-reefed topsails, ever and anon a hissing sea striking her bows and its crest sweeping across the deck, the spray in dense showers coming right aft, and rendering flushing coats and tarpaulins necessary to those who desired dry skins. Overhead the dark clouds flew rapidly by, showing no abatement of the gale. Far astern was the Tudor with no fore-topsail set, showing that either the mast or yard had been sprung while it was impossible to say what other damage she might have received, if caught unprepared as the frigate had been. The muster-roll was now called over. A third of the crew had answered to their names. “Richard Jenkins” was called. It was the name of a fine young topman. No Richard Jenkins replied; but he must have been aloft at the time the fore-tack parted, and then two other topmen acknowledged that they had been afraid some one had been knocked from the fore-topsail-yard; but the thick darkness, and the wild flapping of the sail, had made them uncertain. The other names were called over. No one answered to that of Daniel Bacon. He was rated as a landsman, and would have been forward at the time. Two, then, in the darkness of night had been cast unnoticed into their ocean grave. “Poor fellows! poor fellows!” uttered by their messmates, was the only requiem they received—the contents of their bags were sold; the purser wrote D against their names, which before the gale was over had ceased to be mentioned.

The slight excitement and the fresh air on deck had kept the midshipmen up, but on going below they felt more miserable than ever. Utterly unable to stand they threw themselves on their chests, half wishing that they had gone overboard instead of poor Jenkins and Bacon. More than once they were hove off, but they managed to crawl on again, and cling to the lids in a way sick midshipmen alone could have done. Adair, on going round the lower deck, found them in this condition.

“Uncle Terence, dear, when is it all going to be over?” groaned out Gerald. “There’s mighty little fun in this same.”

“Only the ordinary seasoning youngsters have to go through,” answered Adair; “however, we’ll see what can be done for you.”

Tom, whose head hung over the end of his chest, with a kid which had been brought him under his nose, was past speaking. Adair ordered their hammocks to be slung, and being assisted in, they lay helpless till the gale was over. Let no one despise the two midshipmen, although their messmates might have laughed at them. Their experiences were those of many other brave officers, Nelson included; and they had not a few companions in their misery among those unaccustomed to the tumblifications of the ocean. At length, the wind going down, the sea became tolerably smooth, and turning out, they went on deck by Adair’s advice to enjoy a few mouthfuls of fresh air. The effect on their appetites was such as to astonish even old Higson by the way in which they devoured the pea-soup and boiled beef and potatoes, a junk of fat pork even not coming amiss, washed down by stiff glasses of grog, which, in consideration of their recent sufferings, he allowed them to take.

“Well, youngsters, you are filling up your lockers with a vengeance,” he remarked.

“Faith, it’s no wonder when they were cleaned out three days ago, and not a scrap the size of a sixpenny-piece stowed away in them since,” answered Gerald, who with Tom was eyeing lovingly a huge suet dumpling just placed smoking hot on the table.

“Any duff, Rogers?” asked Higson; “I doubt if you’ve room for much.”

“I think I could just manage a slice to begin with, and then I’ll try what more I can do,” answered Tom.

A huge slice was handed to him, and another to Gerald. “You shall have your next helping from the left side, youngsters,” said the caterer, with a wink at the rest, who all thereon begged for plenty. Tom and Gerald applied themselves to the duff, which they found rather appetising than otherwise; but when they looked up expecting to get their second slices, an empty dish with Higson’s face grinning beyond it, alone met their view. However, they agreed that they had dined very well considering, and from that moment, though others occasionally knocked up, they were never off duty from sea-sickness.

Chapter Three.

Madeira sighted—Misfortunes of Commander Babbicome—A ride on shore—Naval cavalry charge down a hill and overturn some dignitaries of Church and State—A pleasant visit of apology—Suddenly ordered to sea—An expedition to bring off “wash clothes.”

A few days after the storm was over Madeira was made; to the eastward of it, as the frigate sailed on, there came in sight a small island called the Desertas. Tom, wishing to show that he was wide awake, reported a large ship coming round the Desertas. He was, however, only laughed at, for his supposed ship turned out to be a rock of a needle form, rising several hundred feet out of the sea, and would have been as Higson told him, if it had been a ship, bigger than the famed Mary Dunn, of Diver, whose flying jibboom swept the weathercock off Calais church steeple, while her spanker-boom end only just shaved clear of the white cliffs of old England. The scenery of Madeira, as they sailed along its shore, was pronounced very grand and beautiful; its lofty cliffs rising perpendicularly out of the blue ocean with a fringe of surf at their base, and vine-clad mountains towering up into the clear sky beyond them; here and there a small bay appearing, forming the mouth of a ravine, its sides covered with orange groves and dotted with whitewashed cottages, and a little church in their midst. Rounding the southern end of the island, the frigate came to an anchor in the bay of Funchal, the town in a thin line of houses stretching along the shore before them, and a wild mountainous region beyond, with country houses or quintas scattered over the lower ground, and high above it the white church of Nossa Senhora do Monte, glistening in the sun.

An important object had attracted Captain Hemming to Madeira. It was to ship a couple of casks of its famed wine for the admiral on the Jamaica station, as well as one for himself, and he took the opportunity of fitting a new topgallant-mast. A few hours afterwards the Tudor came in and dropped her anchor close to the frigate. She had evidently suffered severely in the gale. Her fore-topsail-yard was so badly sprung that sail could not be carried on it. Her mizen-topmast was gone, her starboard bulwarks forward stove in, one of her boats carried away; besides which she had received other damages. The sea which had injured her bulwarks had swept along her deck, but everything had been secured, without doing further harm, and fortunately no one had been lost.

Commander Babbicome at once came on board the Plantagenet to pay his respects to Captain Hemming. He was a short, stout man, with a red face and thick neck, betokening a plethoric habit. After having been on shore for some years he had been appointed to the Tudor through the influence of a relative, who had actively supported the ministry in electioneering matters. Probably never much of a sailor, though he might have been as brave as a lion, such experience as he possessed being that of days gone by, he had an especial horror of all new-fangled notions. He laid all the blame of the disasters his ship had met with to the Dockyard riggers. “They don’t do things as they used to do, that’s very clear, or I shouldn’t have lost my mizen-topmast!” he exclaimed, while pacing the frigate’s deck with angry steps; “I doubt whether in this hole of a place we can get our damages repaired.”

“I’ll send my carpenters on board, so that you may be independent of the natives. How long will it take to set you to rights?”

“Three or four days I should suppose,” was the answer.

“Well, I will remain for that time, and we will sail together,” said Captain Hemming.

It was quickly known on board both ships that they were not to leave for some days, and parties were made up to go on shore the next morning, and take a ride to the Corral and other places of interest.

A merry set of gun-room officers and midshipmen left the ships soon after breakfast, Jack and Adair, with Lieutenant Jennings leading. Murray could not go, but Archy Gordon got leave; his services, as he told his friends, not being absolutely required. They wisely landed in shore-boats, thus escaping a drenching from the surf, and were hauled up the shingly beach by a number of shouting, bawling, dark-skinned natives, who handed them over to an equally vociferous crowd of muleteers and donkey boys, assembled in readiness with their beasts of high and low degree, to carry travellers up the mountain. Amid the wildest hubbub produced by the shouting, wraggling, jabbering of the owners of the beasts, each man praising the qualities of his own animal as he dragged it to the front, the naval party managed to mount; those who could secure them, on horses, the rest on mules; donkeys being despised, though attempts were made to thrust the midshipmen on them. The tall lieutenant of marines had not secured his horse, which he chose for its height, without a desperate struggle. A band of natives rushing on him, one had hoisted his right leg across a mule, another shoving a donkey’s rein into his hands, while a third adroitly brought a pony under his left leg, while kicking in the air; but the owner of the high horse saw that his eye had been fixed on it, and being a big fellow came to the rescue, and offering his shoulder as a rest, enabled the lieutenant to spring clear of the mule and other beasts on to the one he had chosen.

“Forward, my lads,” he shouted in triumph, as he galloped to the front. Amid an increased chorus of strange-sounding shrieks and cries, the party, shouting and laughing themselves almost as loudly as their attendants, set forward.

“Whoo! whoo!” sung out all the assembled natives in chorus, when the muleteers, catching hold of the tails of their respective animals with their left hands, began to urge them on by digging into their flanks the points of the short goads held in their right hands.

“Arra burra! cara! cara cavache! caval!” screamed out the natives, and on went the steeds, kicking and clattering through the pebble-paved streets, well nigh sending some of their less experienced riders over their heads, and dispersing to the right and left every one they encountered.

“I say, we won’t be after having these fellows at our heels all the way,” exclaimed Adair.

“Of course not,” said Jack; “it would be a horrid bore.”

“Be off with ye, now,” cried Adair, to the natives; Jack and the rest giving similar orders; but the muleteers, in the first place, did not understand what they said, and, in the second, knew better than to let go, as without the usual tail-pulling and goading, the beasts would not have budged a foot.

“We shall be quit of yer, ye spalpeens, when we get to the lull,” cried Adair, at which the swarthy natives grinned, and would have grinned more had they comprehended his remark. Quickly passing through the town, up the steep sides of the mountain, they clattered between high stone walls, crowned by vines, geraniums, and numberless flowering plants, while orange groves were seen here and there through various openings, with pretty quintas nestling amid them; or when they turned their heads glimpses were caught of the town and bay, and the blue ocean.

They had not gone far when they met an Englishman on horse-back, who, pulling up, introduced himself as the merchant about to ship the admiral’s wine, and invited them to stop at his quinta, on their way down from the Corral.

“With all the pleasure in life,” answered Adair; “and will you have the kindness, sir, to tell these noisy fellows, pulling at our horses’ tails, that we can dispense with their company?”

“It would be far from a kindness if I did, for you would find that your beasts would not move ahead without them,” said the merchant, laughing, and directing the arrieros to stop at his house on their return, he bade the merry party good morning.

Up and up they went, till Gerald declared that they should reach the moon if they continued on much longer. At length they found themselves on the brink of an enormous chasm, some thousand feet in depth, upwards of two miles in length, and half-a-mile in width, while before them a precipitous wall of rocks towered up towards the blue heavens, broken into numberless craggy pinnacles, amid which the clouds careered rapidly, although far below they lay in thin strata, unmoved by a breeze.

“Grand! magnificent!” and similar exclamations broke from the party. They pushed on to the end of the ravine, where it almost closes; a natural bridge of rocks existing over it to the opposite side; another much broader ravine opening out beyond. Returning by the way they came, the party gazed down upon Funchal and their ships in the harbour.

“Faith, they look for all the world like two fleas floating with their legs in the air,” exclaimed Adair; “this is a mighty big mountain, there is no doubt about that.”

Their keen appetites and the recollection of the merchant’s promised repast made them hurry on their downward way. They were not disappointed either in the substantials, or in the delicacies, oranges, and grapes, with other fruits and wines provided for their entertainment.

“I am expecting your captains and a few grandees and others to dinner, or I would have pressed you to stay,” said their kind host, as he wished them good-bye; “I hope you will come to-morrow, though, and remember that my house is at your orders as long as you stay.”

Most of the naval heroes had imbibed a sufficient quantity of the merchant’s generous liquid to raise their spirits, even somewhat above their usual high level, and Adair took Gerald to task for not having refused the last few glasses offered, though he declared that he himself was as sober as an archbishop.

“And so, faith, am I, Uncle Terence,” cried Gerald; “to prove that same I’ll race ye down to the bottom of this hit of a hill, and whoever comes in first shall decide the question. Now off we go. ‘Wallop ahoo! ahoo! Erin-go-bragh!’” And urging on his steed, of which his arriero had long since let go, as had the others of their animals on descending the mountains, away he started; Adair shouting to him to stop, from the fear that he would break his neck, followed, however, at the same headlong speed, giving vent, in his excitement, to the same shout of “Wallop ahoo! ahoo! Erin-go-bragh!”

The example was infectious, the marine officer even catching it, and off set lieutenants and surgeons, and midshipmen and clerks, as if scampering away from an avalanche to save their lives, instead of running a great risk of losing them. In vain their attendants shouted to them to stop, and went bounding after them. The animals kept well together in a dense mass—a regular stampedo—Terence and his nephew keeping the lead. To check themselves had they tried it was impossible, without the certainty of bringing their steeds to the ground, and taking flying leaps over their heads. Suddenly there appeared before them a palanquin—a dignified ecclesiastic seated in it—attended by footmen, while further on were seen several cavaliers, some in military uniforms, with a couple of naval cocked hats rising in their midst. That instant had the cry of “Erin-go-bragh!” escaped from the excited Irishman’s throat. “Avast! haul up for your life, boy,” shouted Adair, on beholding the spectacle before him. “Starboard your helm, or you’ll be over the padre.”

Gerald did try to pull up with might and main, but it was too late, his steed stumbled, shooting him as from a catapult, right on the top—not of a humble padre, but of a bishop of the holy Roman Empire, when his floundering steed upsetting the leading bearer, bishop and midshipman rolled over together, the former shouting for help, the latter apologising. The matter did not stop here. Though Adair managed to clear the bishop, after knocking over one of his lordship’s footmen, his steed bolted into the midst of the cavaliers behind, coming full tilt, as ill-luck would have it, against Commander Babbicome of the Tudor, who, in spite of his boasted horsemanship, was incontinently capsized, while, before he could recover himself, or his companions rescue him, down came thundering on them the rest of the hilarious cavalcade. Several of the riders, including Tom, attempting to rein in their animals, were sent flying over the prostrate bishop, among the foremost ranks of the party ascending the mountain, while the rest dashing on overthrew the military governor and several other personages of distinction, till Jack, who had from the first reined in his steed, and was behind the rest, could see nothing but a confused mass of kicking legs, and cocked hats, and naval caps, and here and there heads and backs and arms, with a shaven crown in their midst, blocking up the narrow roadway, shouts, cries, shrieks and execrations issuing from among them. The liberated horses had dashed on, leaving their riders to their fate. This contributed considerably to lessen the difficulties of the case. The drivers coming up, Jack dismounted, and giving his horse to one of them ran to assist the bishop and his fallen friends. The midshipmen quickly picked themselves up, very much frightened at what they had done, but not a bit the worse for their tumble. The ecclesiastic was next placed on his legs, with robes somewhat rumpled, but happily without contusions or bones broken, though dreadfully alarmed and inclined to be somewhat angry at the indignity he had suffered. Jack endeavoured to apologise with the few words of Portuguese he could command, Tom and Gerald assisting him to the best of their power, though their united vocabulary failed to convey their sentiments. Meantime, the dismounted cavaliers behind had regained their saddles, as had the gunroom officers and young gentlemen who had tilted against them their feet. Lieutenant Jennings and Terence had scraped clear without losing their seats, but nearly all the rest had been unhorsed. Commander Babbicome was the only one who had suffered damage, and he had received a bloody nose by a blow from his horse’s head, but he was infinitely the most irate. “It is a disgrace to the service that such things should be allowed,” he exclaimed. “Captain Hemming, I shall demand a court-martial on your officers, or an ample apology. Mine know how to respect their commander.” At that moment his eye fell on his own purser and surgeon, with two or three others who were trying to get by close to the wall on either side. “Ah! I see; they shall hear more about it, they may depend on that!”

“Lieutenant Adair will be ready to make you an ample apology, I can answer for that, and you know that naval officers are not always the best of horsemen, of which we have just had an example,” said Captain Hemming, who, though annoyed at what had happened, wished to soothe the feelings of the angry commander.

The Portuguese officers ascertaining that the bishop was unhurt took their own overthrow very coolly. “It’s the way of those young English naval officers,” they observed, with a shrug of the shoulders. “Paciencia!”

With bows and further apologies the two parties separated; the one to partake of the banquet prepared for them, the other to make the best of their way into the town.

“Uncle Terence, you bate me, I’ll acknowledge, but if it hadn’t been for the fat bishop I’d have won,” exclaimed Gerald, as they met Adair not very comfortable in his mind, coming back to look for them.

“We shall all get into a precious row, ye young spalpeen, in consequence of your freak,” answered Adair. “Why didn’t you pull up at once when I told you?”

“Pull up was it ye say, Uncle Terence?” cried the irrepressible young Irish boy. “Faith now, that’s a good joke. Didn’t I pull till I thought my arms would be after coming off, but my baste pulled a mighty dale harder.”

“Really that nephew of mine will be getting into serious difficulties if he does not learn to restrain the exuberance of his spirits,” said Terence quite seriously to Jack, as they rode on together. “When I was a youngster I never went as far as he does.”

“As to that, we are apt to forget what we were, and what we did, in the days of our boyhood,” answered Jack, laughing heartily.

“You certainly had a wonderful aptitude for getting out of scrapes when you had tumbled into them. However, as it is wiser to keep clear of them altogether, you will do well to give your nephew a lecture on the subject, and I hope that he will benefit by it. I intend to bestow some good advice on Tom on the subject. Many a promising lad injures his future prospects by thoughtlessness. Though we were not always as wise as Solomon, we were invariably sober fellows, or we should probably have come to grief like so many others we have known.”

“Faith, yes, it was that last magnum of Madeira floored the bishop and Commander Babbicome, no doubt about it,” observed Adair, with a twinkle in his eye.

By this time they had reached the beach, when the arrieros having claimed their horses, not forgetting a liberal payment for their use, the party returned in shore-boats to the ships.

The next morning Commander Babbicome’s anger was somewhat cooled down, though to vindicate his outraged dignity, as he could not punish the Plantagenet’s midshipmen, he stopped all leave from the Tudor. Captain Hemming considering that the matter should not be altogether overlooked, took Tom and Gerald on shore to apologise to the bishop, who instead of being angry, laughed heartily, and gave them a basket full of sweet cakes and fruit, for which, though it was a gentle hint that he looked upon them as children, they were very much obliged to him, and voted him a first-rate old fellow.

When the midshipmen of the Tudor heard of it they wanted to go and apologise also, but as none of them unfortunately had tumbled over his lordship, they could not find a sufficient excuse for paying him a visit, and though they sent a deputation on board the Plantagenet to put in a claim for a share, old Higson declined to entertain it.

Captain Hemming afterwards went on board the Tudor, and having told Commander Babbicome of the kind way the bishop had behaved, suggested that it was more Christian-like to forgive than revenge an insult even if premeditated, while that of which he complained certainly was not, and finally induced him to promise that he would say no more about the matter.

The repairs of the Tudor were nearly completed.

“A man-of-war steamer coming in from the eastward,” reported the signal-midshipman to Mr Cherry.

“She has made her number the Pluto,” he shortly added.

The Pluto’s huge paddle-wheels soon brought her into the bay, when the lieutenant commanding her came on board the Plantagenet, with despatches for Captain Hemming.

“It was thought possible that we might catch you here as we have had a good deal of calm weather, and our wheels carry us along rather faster than your sails under such circumstances,” observed the lieutenant, who knew that his tea-kettle was held in no great respect.

“Ah, yes, steam is useful for despatch-boats,” answered the captain, in a slightly sarcastic tone, as he opened the despatches.

He was to direct the Plantagenet and Tudor to proceed without delay to Trinidad, and thence to go on to Jamaica, calling at the larger Caribbean Islands, belonging to Great Britain, on their way. There was an idea that the blacks were in an unsettled state of mind, and that the appearance of a couple of men-of-war would tend to keep them in order.

Instantly the news became known there was a general bustle on board the frigate. Washed clothes had to be got off and fresh provisions obtained. She was to sail at daylight the next morning, and the Tudor was to follow as soon as ready.

“What are we to do for our washed clothes?” exclaimed Higson. “Mother Lobo wasn’t to bring them on board till to-morrow evening, and if we send to her the chances are she doesn’t get the message or doesn’t understand it if she does.”

“Sure, the best thing will be to go for them, then,” exclaimed Gerald. “Does any one know where she lives?”

“Well thought of, youngster,” said Higson; “I know where she hangs out, to the west of the town, beyond the old convent, some way up the hill, but as I can’t make her understand a word I say, even if I was to go there, I should not much forward matters.”

“But I can talk Portuguese like a native,” exclaimed Norris, a midshipman who had been on board a ship stationed at Lisbon for several months, and who, professing to be a great linguist, was always ready to act as interpreter. Whether he understood the replies of the natives or not, he never failed to translate them. It was reported of him that once having accompanied the first lieutenant on shore to get a new topmast made, he asked the Portuguese carpenter at the dockyard,—“In how many dayso will you make a new topmasto for mio fregato?”

“Naö intende,” was the answer.

“‘Not in ten days,’ he says, sir,” reported Norris to the lieutenant.

“Why, we can make one on board in less than half that time. Lazy rascals, we will have nothing to do with them,” exclaimed the lieutenant, his confidence in the midshipman as a linguist unshaken.

On the present occasion Norris’s services were, however, accepted, and all in the berth who could get leave agreed to go. Some of the Tudor’s midshipmen who were on board the frigate offered to bring on the things if they were not ready.

“No! no! thank ye,” answered Higson, cocking his eye, “I’ve a notion that clean linen would be plentiful aboard the corvette, and by the time it reached us it would be ready again for the laundress.”

He, however, accepted their offer to accompany the expedition. As the wind was light and off shore they got leave to take the jolly-boat, being able easily to land in her. Under the guidance of Higson they made their way up the hill to Senhora Lobo’s abode. A stream ran near it, on the banks of which half-a-dozen women were kneeling battering away, fine as well as coarse articles of clothing on some rough granite slabs, occasionally rubbing them as a change, with might and main on the hard stones, singing at the same time as they rubbed, or stopping occasionally to laugh and chatter. Among them was discovered Senhora Lobo or Mother Lobo, as Higson designated her, battering away harder than anybody at one of his shirts, as an example to her handmaidens. She rose from her knees, twisting tightly the dripping garment, not to lose time, as she recognised the young gentlemen, when Norris for a wonder made her comprehend more by signs than words, that as the ship was about to sail they must have their clothes immediately.

“Amañaä? to-morrow?” asked Senhora Lobo.

“No, no, ‘esta noite,’ to-night,” answered Norris vehemently.

The washerwoman consulted with her attendants. Piles of wet linen lay on the ground, but a quantity had not yet seen the water. After a considerable amount of jabbering and talking, it was agreed that the task could be accomplished. The sun was hot, and the gentlemen must not be very particular about the ironing. While one half of the damsels set to work again in the stream, the rest, headed by the mistress, began to hang up the washed articles, a young girl being despatched apparently for further assistance. This looked like being in earnest, and the dame assured Norris that the things should be ready by ten o’clock. How to spend the intermediate time was the question, and a ramble into the country was agreed on. Had they been wise they would have secured some mules or donkeys to convey the clothes to the beach. They had, however, undertaken to carry the bags themselves, and were resolved heroically to persevere. They set off on their ramble, Tom and Gerald, and the other youngsters, skylarking as usual. They expected to fall in with some venda, or wine-shop, where they could obtain the refreshment they should require before returning, and Dick Needham was sent back with an order for the boat to come for them at the appointed hour. After rambling to a considerable distance, they began to feel hungry, but in vain they searched for a venda. Fortunately at this juncture they fell in with an Englishman on horseback, to whom they made their wants known.

“Come along with me,” he answered; “I will show you a place where you can get some food.”

Turning to the right, he led them through a gateway, along a walk bordered by orange-trees, myrtles, geraniums, ever-blossoming rose-trees, and numberless other plants and flowers, up to a bungalow-style of building, from the verandah of which a fine view could be enjoyed over the bay, with the town in the distance, and the hills on either side.

“This looks like a regular first-class boarding-house; we shall have to pay handsomely,” whispered Tom to Gerald; “but never mind, we shall enjoy ourselves, and I am terribly sharp-set!”

“Make yourselves at home, gentlemen,” said their guide; “supper will soon be on the table.”

“Let’s have it as soon as possible, that’s all, and pray tell the landlord that we shall be perfectly content if we can have a few cold fowls and a ham, or eggs and bacon, and bread and cheese, and some bottles of country wine—we are in no ways particular!” exclaimed Higson, throwing himself on a garden-seat and producing his cigar-case. “Will any of you fellows have a smoke?”

When the case was opened but one cigar remained. Their guide observed it.

“Never mind, I dare say I can find some in the house,” he said, and soon returned with a box full. He offered it round.

“What do they cost?” asked Gerald, who indulged in a smoke sometimes, when out of Adair’s sight, though his slender purse forbade cigars.

“Never mind,” was the answer; “it shall be put down in the bill.”

The midshipman took a cigar, when a black servant appearing with a dish of charcoal embers, it was lighted and pronounced excellent. Shortly afterwards several ladies came out of the house and entered into conversation with the young officers, who took them to be guests staying at the inn. The time sped pleasantly by till supper was announced. The ladies accompanied them in, the oldest taking one end of the table, while their guide sat at the other.

“He’s mine host after all!” whispered Tom to Gerald. “He knows, however, how to look after his guests properly.”

There might not have been quite as many cold chickens on the table as Higson would have desired, but ample amends was made by the variety of other good things and the abundance of fruit, cakes, and wine.

“Capital Madeira, this of yours, landlord! Haven’t tasted better anywhere in the island!” exclaimed Higson, smacking his lips. “I’ll trouble you to pass the bottle.”

“I am glad you approve of it, sir,” said mine host, doing as he was requested. “There are several other qualities, but I always put the best before my guests.”

Altogether the young gentlemen enjoyed themselves particularly, and talked and laughed away with unrestrained freedom to the ladies, who seemed highly amused by them, and insisted on filling the pockets of the younger midshipmen with cakes and fruit to take to their messmates on board.

“It’s myself could manage better with a handkerchief!” exclaimed Paddy Desmond, producing a good big one.

The hint was taken, and some of the oldsters pulling out theirs got them filled likewise, supposing that it was the custom of the country for the guests to carry off the remains of a feast. Coffee was brought in, and a stroll through the grounds was then proposed. The object of the young gentlemen’s visit to the shore came out in the course of the evening.

“You must stay here, then, till the time you have appointed, and I will show you a much shorter cut to the shore than by the high road,” said mine host.

Higson gladly accepted his offer. Tea and further refreshments were found on the table on their return from the garden, and then one of the younger ladies went to the piano, and another took a harp, and a third a guitar, and the young officers who could sing were asked to do so, which of course they did, Paddy Desmond especially having a capital voice. Thus the evening passed pleasantly away, till it was nearly ten o’clock.

“I had no idea there were such capital houses of public entertainment as yours in the island,” said Higson, highly pleased with mine host, who had been very attentive to him. “Whatever Englishmen undertake, however, they always beat the natives hollow, and now just tell me what’s to pay?”

“I am amply repaid by having had the pleasure of entertaining you,” answered mine host, laughing. “I must not let you go away under a mistake. The ladies you have seen are my mother and wife, and our sisters and two cousins staying with us. You may have heard my name as one of the principal shippers from the island, and when you come across my brand in the old country you will be able to say a good word for it.”

“That I will, sir; but I must beg ten thousand pardons for my stupidity, and that of my shipmates. We ought to have found you out at first—couldn’t understand it, I confess.”

Mr — soon set Higson and the rest at their ease, and thanks and farewells being uttered, under the guidance of the former they commenced their journey through orange groves and vineyards down the hill.

Senhora Lobo’s washing establishment was soon reached, and there stood before her house a long line of bags and bundles, the former containing clothes, the latter tablecloths, sheets, and towels, each weighing twenty or thirty pounds. As time would be lost by sending to the boat for men the young gentlemen agreed to carry their property between them. Their new friend at once declared his intention of assisting. How to fist the bundles was the question. One could be easily carried on the back; but on counting them it was found that each person must carry two. After due discussion it was decided that the only way to do this was to fasten the bags or bundles two and two together, by the strings of the bags or the corners of the bundles, and to sling them thus over their shoulders, one hanging before and one behind. The two younger midshipmen got the lightest for their share, old Higson manfully taking the largest, and saying that he would bring up the rear. Their new friend led to show them the way. There was a high gate near the bottom of the path, but that was sure to be open. Off started the strange procession amid shouts of laughter, to which Senhora Lobo and her hand-maidens added their share. “Adios, adios, senhores!” they shrieked, clapping their hands and bending almost double in their ecstasies. The shouts of the merry damsels could be heard long after they had been lost to sight, as the not less jovial young gentlemen descended the hill. At first the path was tolerably even, but gradually it became steeper and steeper, and the bundles seemed to grow heavier and heavier, and the night darker and darker. They could see that they were passing though a vineyard, formed on terraces, built upon the hillside. The assistant surgeon, who followed next their friend, had slackened his speed, allowing the latter to get ahead of him. Suddenly the medico lost sight of his guide, when stumbling he let his bags slip off his shoulders, and was obliged to stop a minute to adjust them, bringing everybody else behind him to a halt. Then to make up for lost time he pushed on at greater speed than before. He heard their guide cry out something, but what it was he could not tell. “Make haste you in the rear,” he exclaimed, but scarcely were the words out of his mouth than he found himself going headforemost from the top of a high wall, when he began to roll over and over, down a steep declivity. He was not alone, for one after the other came his companions, the darkness preventing those behind from discovering what had happened, Higson being the last, till the whole party were rolling away down the hill, struggling and kicking with the bags round their necks, some well-nigh strangled by the cords which held them together.

“Och, it’s kilt I am entirely!” exclaimed Paddy Desmond, who was the first to find his voice. “Where are we after going to? Is the say below us, does any one know?”

“Can’t some of you fellows ahead stop yourselves?” sung out Higson, who came thundering along with his big bundles about his neck; but the ground had just been cleared, not a root or branch offered a holdfast, and his weight giving a fresh impetus to the rest away they all went again over another terrace wall, shrieks and shouts and groans proceeding from those whose throats were not too tightly pressed by the cords to allow them utterance. Their cries quickly brought their friend to their assistance, when a level spot having fortunately been reached, with his aid, after some hauling and twisting, they were at length got on their legs, and their bundles and bags being replaced on their shoulders they proceeded in the same order as before. One or two groaned, occasionally, from the weight of their burdens or from the pain of their bruises, but most of the party trudged on, laughing heartily at their adventure.

“Hillo, why the gate is locked—never knew that before!” they heard their guide exclaim. “Never mind, we can easily climb it.” Saying this he threw his bags over, and climbing to the top safely dropped down on the other side. The rest of the party, with one exception, followed his example. When Higson came to the gate it looked so contemptibly easy that he determined to climb it with his bundles on his back. Telling Tom, who was next him, to go on, he mounted to the top, when just as he had got over his foot slipped, and down he came, having his body on the outer side and his huge bundles still on the inner, his neck being held fast by the cord which fastened them together. A deep groan escaped him. It might have been the last he would ever have uttered, but fortunately Tom heard it, and turning back discovered what had happened.

“Help! help!” he shouted; “here’s old Higson hanging himself.”

His shout brought the rest to the rescue, accompanied by Dick Needham, who had come up from the boat to see after them. While a couple of the oldsters climbed to the top of the gate Dick raised the old mate with his shoulders, and after much pulling and hauling his neck was cleared from the noose, when he would have fallen to the ground had not Dick caught him.

“I’m much afeered Mr Higson’s gone,” exclaimed Dick, as he placed his burden gently down.

“Dead! why he was kicking tremendously just now,” cried Tom, much concerned, for he had a real regard for his messmate.

“I’m afeered so,” repeated Dick, with a sigh.

“Let me see,” said McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, and stooping down he undid Higson’s handkerchief and rubbed away at his throat, feeling carefully round it. “Neck not dislocated, as I feared; he’s all right, and will come round presently,” he said, the announcement giving infinite relief to those who stood around.

As McTavish had predicted, Higson soon recovered; and as Dick was there to carry his bundles the adventurers were once more en route to the boat. All hands were warm in their expressions of thanks to their hospitable entertainer.

“You’ll not forget ‘mine host’ of the country venda,” he said, laughing, as he shook hands for the last time. They gave him three cheers, as the boat shoved off and pulled away for the frigate.

Higson had been silent, while the rest were talking, as if brooding over something; at length he exclaimed, “I say, Rogers, I’ll not have you call me old Higson—they were the last words I heard.”

“Then you didn’t hear me call the other fellows to your assistance,” answered Tom promptly. “If I hadn’t you wouldn’t have been sitting up and talking now. It wouldn’t have been pleasant for your friends to have seen a paragraph in the papers, ‘John Higson, mate of HMS Plantagenet, was hung on the —’”

“Avast there,” cried Higson, “or I’ll break your head, you—”

“He really was the means of saving your life,” said McTavish.

“Then I’m obliged to you, Rogers, and you may call me old Higson as often as you like, provided you do me an equal service every time.”

The next morning the frigate stood out of the Bay of Funchal on her way to the West Indies.

Chapter Four.

The Frigate at Trinidad—Magnificent scenery—Midshipmen on shore—Purchase a Spider-Monkey, and take a ride with him into the country—Adair meets some relatives—He and Jack nearly lose their hearts, but don’t—Colonel O’Regan and his daughter Stella—A country-house—Visit to a coffee plantation—The Colonel’s schemes—The Colonel and his daughter embark on board the Plantagenet—The Dragon’s mouth—The frigate in danger.

The mists of the early morning hung over the ocean, but not with sufficient density to obscure altogether the outline of the land, as her Majesty’s frigate Plantagenet was entering the Boca Navios, or ship channel, one of the Dragon’s Mouths which lead from the north into the Gulf of Paria, between the island of Trinidad and the mainland of South America. Captain Hemming stood, speaking-trumpet in hand, conning the ship; the crew were at their stations; hands in the chains, ever and anon, as they hove the lead, in deep, sonorous voices shouting out the depth of water; every one was on the alert, for the currents were uncertain and the wind baffling. As the sun rose the silvery mist seemed to be drawn up like a curtain, exposing a magnificent spectacle; islands of fantastic shapes rising from the calm, blue water, clothed to their summits with mighty trees, of varied hues, growing out of the crevices of the rocks. Here, lofty cliffs; there, some deep bay, with plantations and cottages beyond; or a shady valley, the fit abode of peace and contentment, as Adair, who was just then in a sentimental mood, observed; now in a wilder, more open spot were seen the huts of a whaling establishment; and then, further on, open glades and grassy enclosures; while on the port side towered up to the clear, bright sky the lofty ridge-like mountains of Trinidad itself. The breeze freshening, at length the handsome capital of the island, Port of Spain, on the shores of its wide bay, opened out to view; its broad streets running at right angles to each other, and thus allowing every air from the water to blow freely through them. On the other side of the town could be seen the Savannah, a park-like enclosure bordered by pretty villas, with a panorama of superb hills clothed with vegetation, forming the background of the picture; between which, extending right across the island, was discerned the entrance to the fertile valley of Diego Martin; while across the gulf on the mainland rose the majestic mountains of Cumana. Leave was given to all not required on board to go on shore. The captain went to call on the governor, the officers to amuse themselves, according to their respective tastes.

The talents of Norris as interpreter were called into requisition; indeed, he had a good opportunity of practising his Spanish and Portuguese as well as French, the white population being composed of a mixture of most of the nations of Europe. The young gentlemen were wandering about, as midshipmen are wont to do, in a strange town; now stopping to buy fruit in the market-place, now entering a shop to look for something they did not exactly know what; now popping their heads in at a church-door, when they caught sight of a short, broad-faced, yellow-skinned Carib with a monkey perched on his head, one on each shoulder, and a fourth nestling in his arms, standing at the corner of a street.

“Hurra!” cried Tom, “here’s the chance we have long been wishing for. Come along, Norris, and try to make the monkey-merchant understand that we are ready to treat for one of his happy family.”

“For combien sixpenny pieces voulez-vous sell us one of those rum chapsos, mon amis?” said Norris, with perfect confidence, as if expecting an answer. Though the Carib knew no more French than did the midshipman, guessing what was wanted, he made the three monkeys on his head and shoulders jump down to the ground to exhibit themselves. Having gone through their performances, at a word they sprang back into their former positions, the most active being a long-tailed, long-armed creature, with a body like a lath, who had the post of honour on the Indian’s head.

“That’s the fellow for us,” cried Tom, clapping his hands. “I don’t think old Scrofton will ever acknowledge that he had his origin in such a spider-like animal.”

“No, but he may be after saying that we are descended from some such creature, if he catches us skylarking aloft,” observed Gerald.

“He’ll not venture on such an impertinence,” answered Tom. “I vote we have him.”

Though there were some dissentient voices, the majority were in favour of the spider-monkey. A dollar was asked, a high price for a monkey, considering that hundreds are caught in the woods to be cooked for dinner; but then, as the Carib tried to explain, this one was civilised, and his education had cost something, though he could neither read nor write at present; but he might do so, if the young gentlemen would take the trouble of teaching him. The Indian’s arguments prevailed. A dollar was quickly collected, Tom paying twice as much as any one else, that he might have a proportionate interest in the beast; and Master Spider, as he was forthwith called, became the midshipmen’s monkey. Poor Master Spider, he little knew the fate awaiting him. Now he was theirs, the question was what to do with him till they returned on board. Should they take him with them into the country, he would to a certainty be off among his native woods, they agreed. They modestly requested several shop-keepers in the neighbourhood to take charge of him, but all declined the trust. They bought, however, of a saddler a chain and strap to assist in securing their captive. At first they were going to put the strap round the monkey’s neck; but the Carib hinted that if they did, Master Spider would be throttled, and so it was fastened round his loins, he ungratefully giving Paddy Desmond, who performed the operation, a severe bite in return.

“Ye baste, what do ye mane by that?” exclaimed Paddy, in a voice which made Master Spider spring back as far as his chain would allow to the top of a saddle, where he sat vehemently jabbering away, as if offering a full explanation of his conduct, amid the laughter of the rest of the party. Norris proposed hiring a sitting-room for him at an inn; but a somewhat high price being asked for the accommodation, it was at length determined to take him with them now that he could not escape, each one agreeing to carry him by turns.

“But you fellows are not going to walk about all day, I hope. I vote we have a ride,” exclaimed Norris.

The proposal was agreed to. Six procured steeds—rather sorry jades; for the sagacious owners, having some experience of the way naval officers are apt to ride, would not bring out their best horses, but the midshipmen did not care about that. They tossed up who was first to have charge of Spider. Paddy Desmond won, and away they started.

“Look out that you don’t run foul of any of the great Dons of the island, or lose your way,” shouted their messmates.

“No fear,” answered Tom; “we’ve got Spider as a pilot.”

Spider did show the way in a vengeance, for Desmond’s horse finding a strange creature clinging to its mane, dashed off at headlong speed through the streets and round the Savannah, followed by the rest, shouting and laughing, till the foot of the mountains was reached. Then up they went, not by the high road, but by a rough pathway, which led they did not know where. That, however, was of small consequence; it must take them to some place or other, and they had little doubt of finding their way back. On they pushed, scrambling along regardless of the hot sun, the dust, the flies, and other stinging creatures, laughing and shouting, and belabouring each other’s steeds, Gerald, as at first, with Spider before him, bravely keeping the lead. They had not been unobserved, for Lieutenants Rogers and Adair were riding leisurely along the road round the Savannah as they passed at some distance.

“There goes my young hopeful of a nephew,” exclaimed Adair. “I must look sharper after the lad than I have done when he gets on shore, or he’ll come to grief, and my good sister, his mother, who doats on him, will break her heart.”

“I must keep a taut hand on Tom, too, for whom I feel myself responsible,” observed Jack. “I was glad to have him on board the frigate, but I did not reflect on the anxiety he would cause me.”

“Mercifully Providence watches over midshipmen, or the race would soon become extinct, and there would be no such promising young officers as you and I to be found,” said Adair. “There go a number more of them. Happy fellows! Well, it was not so long since we were like them, Jack.”

The two lieutenants continued their ride, bound on a visit which shall be mentioned presently. The midshipmen galloped along till their horses’ knees trembled under them. They had left the more cultivated country, and entered a wild region, the forest closing in on every side; birds of gorgeous colours flew by or rose from the thickets; beautiful butterflies fluttered in the glades, and monkeys gambolled in the trees, looking down on them from the branches overhead, chattering loudly as they passed.

“We’ve paid a pretty high price, I’ve a notion, for Master Spider, since we might have had a dozen such fellows for the catching,” observed Norris, as he watched the monkeys in troops springing from bough to bough.

“But how were we to catch them, I should like to know?” asked Tom. “They can beat any one of us at climbing, there’s no doubt about that.”

“Ah, well, I suppose they can, as they are at it all day,” answered Norris sagaciously.

Meantime Master Spider had been gazing up wistfully at his relations in the trees, every now and then answering their chatterings with a peculiar cry, when, passing under an overhanging bough, some three or four feet above him, suddenly springing on the horse’s head, and thence on Gerald’s, in a moment, with his long arms extended, he had laid tight hold of it, while Gerald letting go his rein, with equal tenacity grasped the end of the chain, fancying that he could haul him back; but the arms of the monkey were stronger than his. On galloped the horse, leaving him, as a consequence, hanging with one hand to the chain. Instinctively he made a grasp at the monkey’s long tail, greatly, it is possible, to the relief of the owner; and there he hung, swinging backwards and forwards between the sky and earth, the monkey jabbering and shrieking with the pain of the strap round its loins, amid a chorus of its relatives, while the other midshipmen gathered round, laughing till they nearly split their sides, without attempting to assist him. Even Tom—hard-hearted fellow—forgot to help his friend.

“Bear a hand, some of ye, and catch hold of my legs, or I’ll be carried off by the baste entirely,” shouted Gerald. “And there’s my horse galloped off, and I’ll have none to ride back on.”

“Hold fast, Paddy! hold fast!” shouted his messmates, “it’s such fun to see you.”

“It’s you I want to be holding on to me, for if ye won’t haul me down the baste of a monkey will be after hauling me up. He’ll be at the top of the tree in another moment, and his friends will be carrying me off among them, and I’ll never set eyes again on Ballymacree, shone! shone! but be turned into a spider-legged monkey, I will!” and poor Paddy began to cry with terror as he pictured the fate in store for him. At length Tom’s regard for his friend overcame his love of fun, and throwing the reins of his horse to Norris he jumped off, and catching hold of Gerald’s legs began hauling away with all his might. Now, though Master Spider could, by his wonderful muscular power, manage to support one midshipman, the weight of two was more than he could bear, and letting go, down came Gerald, and over went Tom, with the monkey struggling and scratching on the top of them, giving a revengeful nip on the most exposed part of his new master’s body. Master Spider hadn’t long his own way, however, for the reefers picking themselves up, Paddy gave him a box on the ears, which though it made him show his teeth, brought him to order, and the tired steed being found feeding close by, all hands agreed that, unless they wished to be benighted, it was about time to return shipward. Paddy declining the further companionship of Spider, Tom took charge of him, and off they set down the mountain’s side, for a wonder reaching the plain without breaking their necks; their steeds happily knowing the way better than they did. Darkness came on while they were still galloping along.

“Och, sure our horses’ hoofs are scattering the sparks all around us,” cried Paddy. One of the more knowing of the party, however, discovered that the sparks were fire-flies, flitting about above a damp spot through which they were passing.

A good supper at the hotel quickly restored their exhausted spirits, and they got safe on board with Master Spider. It was the last ride on shore they enjoyed for many a long day. They were soon to be engaged in more stirring and dangerous adventures.

We must now accompany the two lieutenants. On landing, having a bill to get cashed, they repaired for that purpose to the establishment of a certain Don Antonio Gomez, who acted as store-keeper and banker, and was, they heard, one of the leading men in the place. He spoke English, they found, remarkably well.

“Are you related to Mr Adair, of Ballymacree, in Ireland?” he asked, on hearing Adair’s name.

“I am his son,” was the answer.

“Then I am truly delighted to see you, my dear sir,” exclaimed the Don. “My mother is the daughter of an uncle of yours—no; let me see—of a great uncle who settled here some forty years ago or more, after the island became a dependency of England. She will be charmed to welcome you as a cousin. My wife, too, is Irish, and we have some guests also who hail from the old country, so that you will be perfectly at home. You will come up at once, and Lieutenant Rogers will, I hope, accompany you.”

Adair, of course, said all that could be expected; how enchanted he should be to make the acquaintance of his cousin, of whom, till that moment, however, he had never heard, while Jack gladly accepted the invitation offered him. While they were speaking Don Antonio was summoned on a matter of importance.

“I regret that I cannot accompany you at present,” he said, on his return; “I have therefore written to announce your coming, and have ordered horses, with a servant to show you the way. They will be here presently, and in the meantime you must fortify yourselves for the journey with some tiffin.”

He led his visitors to a large airy upper room looking out over the gulf. In the centre was a table spread with all sorts of West-Indian delicacies, and wines and spirits, and bottled beer. A person must go to a hot climate to appreciate the latter liquid properly. Several persons looked in, and took their seats at table as if it was a customary thing. Some apparently were resident planters; others skippers of merchantmen, and there were several foreigners, who spoke only Spanish or French.

One of the last comers was a fine military-looking man, with a handsome countenance, a few grey hairs sprinkling his otherwise dark hair and moustache. Don Antonio introduced him to the two lieutenants as Colonel O’Regan. The naval officers rose and bowed, and the Colonel taking his seat opposite to them at once, as a man of the world, entered into conversation.

“Colonel O’Regan has seen a good deal of service in the Peninsula and elsewhere,” observed Don Antonio to Adair; “knew your uncle, Major Adair, and was with Sir Ralph Abercromby when this island changed masters, I must confess very much to its advantage.”

The colonel heard the last remark. “I was a mere boy at the time, having only just joined my regiment,” he observed, with a smile. “It was not a very hazardous expedition, and had there been any fighting the navy would have borne the brunt of it; but the gallant Spanish Admiral Apodaca, whose memory is not held in the highest repute hereabouts, as soon as he saw the British fleet, having landed his men, set fire to four of his ships, and galloped off, that he might be the first to convey the intelligence to the Governor Chacon, who was preparing to defend the city from the expected assault. He entered at the head of a band of priests, piously counting his rosary. ‘Burnt your ships, admiral!’ exclaimed Chacon, in astonishment. ‘Then I fear all is lost.’ ‘Oh, no, most noble governor, all is not lost, I assure you,’ answered the admiral. ‘I have saved! only think I have saved the image of Santiago de Compostella, the patron of my ships and myself.’”

“Come, come, you are rather hard on the worthy Apodaca—his ships were only half manned, and Admiral Harvey would have captured them all after giving him a sound drubbing,” observed Don Antonio, laughing notwithstanding. “Besides it is a proof that we had pious men among us in those days. Remember that we had not long before been deprived of the holy Inquisition.”

“You did not regret its loss, I presume,” said the colonel. “I saw something of what it must have been in Spain when its dungeons were revealed to view.”

“As to that I live under the English government, and prefer the English system of managing matters,” answered Don Antonio, but wishing to change the subject he asked, “What news from the Main, colonel?”

“Unsatisfactory as usual,” was the answer. “Something, however, must be done or the cause will be lost, and I am resolved to be no longer influenced by those half-hearted patriots as they call themselves.”

Just then the horses were announced. “You will meet Colonel O’Regan, as he will accompany me by-and-by,” said Don Antonio to the lieutenants.

They found two richly caparisoned steeds waiting for them, with a sable attendant in livery, mounted on a third. He would have astonished an English groom. He wore huge spurs strapped to naked feet—a light blue coat richly laced, an enormously high hat with a deep band, and a flaming red waistcoat. He, however, was evidently satisfied with his own appearance, and considered himself a person of no small importance.

“Mr Pedro Padillo show dee way to Massa Lieutenants,” he said, bowing after they had mounted. “When say starboard, keep to starboard; when say larboard, keep to port; oderwise make way ahead.”

“Thank you, Pedro—you have been at sea, I perceive,” said Jack.

“Oh yes, massa. I serve aboard de King’s ships, and oder craft many years before turn head groom to Don Antonio,” answered the black. “He great man, as you shall see presently.”

After rather more than an hour’s ride under the steerage of Pedro, Jack and Adair reached the country residence of Don Antonio, magnificently situated on the broad shoulder of a mountain which rose clothed with gigantic trees behind it, while in front lay the blue gulf dotted over with the tiny sails of canoes—a highly cultivated plain stretched out below—hill sides and forests, plantations and villas appearing on either hand.

“Faith, my new cousin is well located. It bates Ballymacree I must confess,” said Adair, as they came in front of an extensive bungalow style of building, with a broad verandah running along the front and two sides, with such a garden as the tropics only can present, kept green by a clear stream taught to meander through it, and the source of which could be discerned as in a sparkling cascade it rushed down the mountain side amid the trees. “I am curious to know what sort of person my elder relative will prove, not to speak of the younger females of the family,” added Adair.

As he spoke a cloud of white drapery was seen moving in the verandah. It soon resolved itself into a tall, dignified old lady, another of matronly appearance, and a bevy of young ones; two or three of them mere girls; perfect Houris they seemed to Adair, and Jack was much of the same opinion. As Adair threw himself from his horse, the old lady advanced from among the rest, holding out both her hands.

“My young cousin, I am delighted to greet you. It is long, long since I set eyes on one of my kindred from the old country, and you are welcome—doubly welcome as coming direct from dear Ballymacree, the home of my youth,” she exclaimed, with a very perceptible Hibernian accent.

Terence made a suitable reply, albeit not much addicted to the utterance of sentimental speeches, and then he was introduced to his younger cousins of the second degree; and Jack, who had modestly hung back, came forward, and went through the same pleasant ceremony. One damsel had kept somewhat behind the rest as if she did not claim to be a relation.

“Irish to the core,” thought Jack. “Large grey eyes, rich brown hair—the complexion of the lily tinged with the rose—a figure a sylph might envy.”

“Let me make you known, Lieutenant Rogers and Cousin Terence to Miss O’Regan,” said the old lady, the others having retired a few paces, thus allowing the officers to advance, which they did bowing, with admiration depicted in their countenances, to the young lady. Courtesying, not very formally, she put out her hand, and said with a laugh—

“I must beg to be considered among the cousinhood, or I shall feel like a stranger in your midst.”

The fair cousins gathered round laughing, and said, “Yes! yes! of course!”

Adair took the beautiful little hand, so firm and cool, and felt very much inclined to press it to his lips, but he did not. The same favour was extended to Jack. They were soon as much at home as if they had known each other for months. Donna Katerina, however, as the elder lady was called, monopolised her cousin Terence, naturally eager to hear about Ballymacree, and the various members of his family. She charged him to bring up his nephew the next day; and hearing that Lieutenant Rogers had a brother on board, insisted that he must come also. Jack had thus for some time the young ladies to himself; which were most worthy of admiration he could not decide—they were all so charming; but undoubtedly Miss O’Regan—her friends called her Stella—which sounded more romantic to Jack’s ears than her surname—was perfection or near it.

A very pleasant afternoon was spent with music and singing, and conversation, and a stroll in the shade under the lofty trees, between which the breeze found its way, keeping the atmosphere tolerably cool and agreeable. Jack and Terence thought that they should like, if not to spend the rest of their days in so delightful a spot, to come back to it some time or other; but they did not venture to hint at such a thing just then. On returning to the house they found that Don Antonio, with Colonel O’Regan and their own captain, had arrived. The latter seemed as much struck with Stella as they had been, and they could not help feeling a little jealous of him, though they need not have been so, as he paid her no more attention than he did the other young ladies. He gave them, moreover, leave to remain on shore, as he intended returning on board, and he promised Donna Katerina to send up her young cousin, and Tom Rogers the next morning. Several other gentlemen arrived, and dinner was announced—a magnificent entertainment—plate and crystal and sparkling wines in profusion, and all sorts of tropical delicacies. Then came music and dancing—chiefly waltzes. The young Creoles swam through the dances; Stella moved with more life in her than all of them. Captain Hemming seldom danced. He could not resist the temptation altogether, but he was engaged for the most of the evening in earnest conversation with Colonel O’Regan. He returned to town in the carriage of one of the guests, and soon afterwards the whole party retired to rest.

As the lieutenants slept within earshot of the colonel they were unable to discuss Stella—a great privation. Don Antonio was a planter as well as a merchant, and he had invited his guests to visit his cocoa plantation, of which he was justly proud, three or four miles in the interior. The midshipmen, who had started by daybreak, arrived just as the party were setting off. They looked somewhat blank, when but a slight refreshment only was offered them, but were comforted when they found that they were to breakfast on their return. Gerald was received by Donna Katerina as a kinsman, and he and Tom were taken in charge by the younger of the young ladies. Some of the party went in carriages; others, Stella among them, on horseback, with Terence and Jack as her attendants. She rode like a thorough Irish girl well accustomed to the saddle.

The party proceeded along picturesque lanes, mostly in the shade of umbrageous trees, crossing many a brawling brook, till they reached, on the gentle slope of a hill, the confines of a lofty forest, with a peculiar undergrowth of shrubs from ten to fifteen feet in height of a delicate green tint. These were the cocoa-trees, and the duty of the more lofty ones, whose boughs, interlaced by numberless creepers, formed a thick roof, was to shelter them from the burning rays of the sun. A centre road ran through the plantation, intersected by numerous cross-paths, all lined with dark-leaved coffee bushes covered with jessamine blossoms, giving forth an exquisite perfume, while water in gentle rills conveyed life and fertility to every part. The horses were left at the house of the overseer while the party sauntered through the plantation enjoying the grateful shade, and the cool breeze which fanned their cheeks.

“How delightful!” exclaimed Jack. “I am greatly tempted to come on shore, and turn cocoa planter.”

“What, and give up the noble profession to which you belong?” asked the young lady by his side. “I should have expected better of you, Mr Rogers.” It was the first time Jack had heard Stella utter an expression which showed her character. “While there are wrongs to be righted, and the defenceless to be protected, I trust that no one engaged in the noble profession of arms will think of sheathing his sword.”

“I spoke from the impulse of the moment. I really have no intention of leaving the navy, which I love as much as any man.”

“I am glad of it,” said Stella, giving him an approving smile.

Jack, who was decidedly matter-of-fact, was wondering what wrongs Stella wished him to redress, when their conversation was interrupted, and he had no opportunity of asking her till they had mounted their horses and were riding homeward. Jack at last put the question.

“In all parts of the world,” answered Stella, with some little hesitation. “Look, too, over yonder vast continent.” She pointed to the blue mountains of Cumana seen across the gulf. “From north to south wrong and oppression reigns. Even in those states nominally free, one set of tyrants have but been superseded by another as regardless of the rights of the people as the first.”

“I have not often met young ladies imbued with sentiments such as yours,” observed Jack.

“Few young ladies you have met, probably, have fathers like mine,” answered Stella.

She stopped as if she was saying too much. Jack recollected the observations he had heard at Don Antonio’s luncheon-room. Probably the colonel is engaged in one of the many revolutionary schemes connected with the late Spanish South American dependencies, he thought. “His daughter very naturally has faith in the justice of the cause he has espoused.”

“Yes, I confess that I have adopted my father’s sentiments,” said Stella, as if she had known what was passing in his mind. “It is but natural, for we are all in all to each other. My mother is dead, and I have no sister or brother. He might have enjoyed a well-won rest at home without dishonour; but he disdained, while possessing health and strength, to remain in idleness, and I entreated that he would not leave me behind, so we came out here some time ago; and while he has made excursions on the continent, I have mostly resided with our friends here, though I have occasionally accompanied him. We have made some long trips by sea, and I have ridden with him several hundred miles on horseback.”

Jack, who believed that young ladies were most fitly employed in household affairs, or in practising the accomplishments they might have learned with an occasional attendance at a ball or archery meeting, thought his fair companion an enthusiast, a perfect heroine of romance, though he did not tell her so. She possibly considered him somewhat dull and phlegmatic. Jack’s notion of duty was to gain as much professional knowledge as possible; to obey the orders he might receive, and to carry them out to the best of his ability.

The midshipmen had no reason to complain of the breakfast spread before them on their return to the house; meats and sweets and fruits, unknown even by name; and such coffee, and perfectly ambrosial cacao. The young ladies seemed to have nothing to do but to amuse them, and perfectly ready they were to be amused, in a quiet way though, for the heat in the middle of the day was too great for much skylarking.

Don Antonio and the other gentlemen had gone into the town but they returned in the evening with Captain Hemming, who invited all the party to take a cruise to the southern end of the island, as he wished to visit the Pitch Lake and the Indian settlements, and to perform certain official duties. The colonel and his daughter, and Don Antonio and his wife, with most of the young ladies, accepted it, and a very delightful trip they had; and, of course, a dance was got up on board, which was more interesting to the fair damsels and the naval officers than any of the natural curiosities the island could afford. It was whispered in the gunroom that they were to have some of their visitors on board for a much longer time, and it at last came out that the captain had promised a passage to Colonel O’Regan and his daughter to Jamaica. Adair and Gerald rode out to wish their cousins good-bye. The old lady was as cordial as ever, and all of them made much of the midshipmen; but Terence had a slight suspicion that the younger ones were somewhat piqued that he and Jack had not laid their hearts at their feet. They were very pretty, charming girls, he acknowledged, and he was not certain what might have happened had he remained longer. Perhaps they were just a little jealous of Stella. He thought so when his sweet cousin Maria whispered, “No one will deny that she is very beautiful, but she is cold as the snow on Chimborazo, and it is said that while playing havoc with the affections of her admirers, she leaves them to their fate with the most callous indifference.”

“Jack Rogers thinks very differently of her,” remarked Adair. “He says that she is one of the most enthusiastic creatures he has ever met; but still I don’t know that he can exactly make her out.”

“No one can,” answered Maria. “She seems very affectionate to us, and grateful for the attention we have been able to show her, and yet we do not know her better now than we did at first.”

Just then the subject of their conversation approached, and directly afterwards Jack and his brother rode up to pay a short farewell visit, and to escort Stella to the town, where her father was waiting for her to go on board the frigate. The bustle of preparation prevented any further conversation. Donna Katerina assured Terence that he might rely on being welcomed as a relative should he return to Trinidad, and was equally civil to Jack when, in his usual hearty way, he wished his friends good-bye. He was watched narrowly as he handed Stella into the carriage, but the keenest eyes could not detect anything in his manner beyond the ordinary respect due to a lady.

The captain had come to the landing-place to escort his guests on board the frigate. They reached her side just as the sunset gun was fired. Stella gave not the slightest start at the sound, but sat as unmoved as her soldier father. Jack remarked the grace and, at the same time, the confidence with which she stepped up the accommodation-ladder, and walked along the deck as if well accustomed to ascending a ship’s side. “I never met a girl better fitted to be a heroine than she is,” he thought. “Still my sister Mary and Lucy are of the style I fancy best.”

The young lady was followed by her only attendant, a black damsel, carrying her dressing-case, and other articles, which nothing would induce her to commit to the charge of the men who offered to take them. “Missie Stella tell me not lose dem,” she answered, with a knowing shake of her head. “No, no, tank yoo.”

Stella retired at an early hour to the cabin the captain had fitted up for her, with a small one close to it for the faithful Polly. She wished to be on deck, she said, to see the ship get under weigh in the morning. She and the colonel were pretty freely discussed in the gunroom and midshipmen’s berth. All acknowledged that she was handsome, but some thought her proud and haughty, and others that she was rather slow, whilst Gerald was of opinion that his cousins beat her hollow, in which Tom agreed with him heartily.

“Much more jolly girls they are,” said Tom. “How they laughed at Spider’s antics! I only wish we may find a batch of such cousins in every place we go to with as capital a country-house.”

Terence pronounced her a Sphinx. Perhaps he was biassed by the opinion the fair Maria had expressed. Jack did not altogether like to hear her talked about, especially by the master and purser, or the lieutenant of marines, who called her a monstrously fine woman. The colonel was fair game. No one could make out who he was, what brought him out to that part of the world, or why the captain was so polite to him. Perhaps it was for his daughter’s sake. He was stiff and donnish, and had scarcely condescended to speak to any one. Jack and Terence defended him on this point, but still he did not appear to have made a favourable impression during the day he had been on board.

With a leading wind and on the brightest of bright mornings, the frigate was standing towards the Boca de Huevos, one of the dragon’s mouths, which lead out of the Gulf of Paria into the open ocean. Everything looked brilliant—the ship herself, the sea, the sky, the land. The passage seemed broad enough for a dozen ships to sail out abreast, between the lofty tree-covered crags which formed the shores of the islands on either side. Still every precaution was taken; the lead was kept going, the crew were at their stations. Stella and her father stood on the deck watching the shore as the ship glided rapidly on. Lieutenant Jennings was the only person at liberty to attend to them, and he was doing his best to make himself agreeable; but he found, after a few attempts, that he succeeded better with the colonel than with his daughter. “Grand cliffs those,” he observed; “awkward for a ship to run against. No chance of our doing so, however.”

“Not so certain of that,” answered the colonel. “The wind is scant and has fallen.”

The yards were braced sharp up, and the quartermaster was keeping the ship as close to the wind as possible.

“Why we are almost through the passage; a few hundred yards more, and we shall be in the open sea,” remarked the lieutenant.

“Without a breeze those few hundred yards will be too much for us,” said the colonel.

As he spoke the sails gave a loud flap; now they filled, and the countenance of the captain brightened; now they flapped again, and it soon became evident that the frigate was drifting, stern first, away from the line of the open sea so nearly reached, towards the cliffs on the starboard hand, driven by a fierce current, which set in diagonally from the northward through the passage. Slowly but certainly she floated back. Had it been directly through the passage, it would not have mattered; but having no steerage way, she was at the mercy of the current, and that was taking her directly towards the cliffs. Many an eye was turned aloft to the canvas on which their safety depended. Just then the most coal-begrimed steamer would not have been despised. The captain gave the order for all the boats to be got ready for lowering; still he had hopes that the breeze would again freshen, but he could not hide from himself the danger the ship was in. All the boats towing ahead could not stem that fierce current. Ever and anon, too, the swell from the sea came rolling in smooth as glass, setting the ship towards the rocks. Not the faintest zephyr filled even the royals. Even should her head be got round to the southward, she would still be drifted bodily to destruction. Stella clearly comprehended the danger, and watched with admiration the cool and calm bearing of the officers. A cable was ranged for letting go as a last resource, but the depth of water where they then were precluded any hope of an anchor holding. Nearer and nearer the ship drew to the towering cliffs.

“Lower the boats,” cried the captain.

Their active crews sprang into them, and tow-ropes being passed they began to pull, as English seamen are wont to pull, against the hot current; but all their efforts seemed of no avail in retarding the sternward progress of the frigate. It appeared at length as if in another minute her spanker-boom would be driven against the cliffs, while the outer branches of the tall trees which towered on their summits seemed almost to hang over the mast heads. Smooth as was the water, an angry surf broke against the rocks at the foot of the cliffs, too clearly indicating what must be the fate of the proud frigate should she drive against them. The lead kept going, showed the depth of water still to be great. Suddenly the ship seemed to be brought to a standstill; the lead-line remained up and down. The hand in the chains announced the fact. It was evident that she had got into dead water, but she still felt the influence of the rollers; for although the boat’s crews pulled as hard as ever, they could not move her ahead. It would be impossible for them also to continue their exertions much longer, while but a slight puff of wind from the opposite shore would hasten her fate.

“Well, I never thought there could be danger in smooth water and a calm, and the land close to us,” said Tom, who observed the anxious faces of those around him.

“There are many things not dreamed of in your philosophy, youngster, which you’ll learn in time,” answered Higson. “Before many minutes are over we may chance to have the masts come tumbling about our ears, and I would advise you, and the rest not wanted on deck, to get below out of the way in good time.”

“What, you don’t mean to say that the ship is likely to be wrecked?” said Tom.

“Ay, but I do, if one of two things don’t happen,” answered Higson. “Let’s hope that they may that the anchor may hold, or that a breeze may come from off the cliffs aboard of us.”

“Let go,” sang out the captain.

“All gone!” shouted Adair from forward.

At that moment Master Spider, having managed to get clear of his chain, seeing the green trees so near him, was off up the rigging with the evident intention of having a ramble among them. Tom and Gerald caught sight of their new pet at the same moment, and forgetting danger or discipline up the shrouds they sprang in chase.

“Might as well try to catch greased lightning as that long-armed beast,” observed Higson, who did not, however, attempt to stop them. Spider quickly reached the main-topsail-yard-arm, but finding that the tempting trees were still utterly beyond his reach, up the topping-lift he swarmed, and in another instant was on the royal-yard. Thither the midshipmen followed, but Spider showed an inclination to defend his position, and sat grinning at them from the end of the yard, round which his prehensile tail was firmly curled. He had an advantage they did not possess, being able to hold on tightly, and yet have both his hands at liberty. As Tom, who led the way, put out his hand to catch the creature, he received so severe a bite that he almost let go. Still he was not to be defeated by a monkey. The two midshipmen, now getting out their handkerchiefs, formed nooses, in which they hoped to catch Master Spider’s paws, and advanced together, forgetting that snake-like tail of his, with which he could keep at anchor, let them haul ever so hard. Apparently, however, not liking their threatening front, before they could seize him he made a spring over their heads, and was in an instant calmly seated on the main-truck. They were about to follow, when Jack, catching sight of them, called them down instantly.

“What, all three of us, sir?” asked Gerald, unable to resist the joke, which set the men grinning fore-and-aft, in spite of the perilous position of the ship.

“No; the two biggest of you; let the smaller monkey take his own time to come down,” answered Jack.

Tom and Gerald descended, looking rather foolish, and the former had to go to the doctor to have his finger dressed, for Spider had given it a severe nip.

The lead-line betokened fifty fathoms where the frigate had cast anchor. The sails hung in the brails. Captain Hemming was on the watch for the slightest flaw of wind which might enable him to get out of his dangerous position. The boats were still kept ahead; the rest of the crew were at their stations, the marines and idlers ready to pull and haul. It was a time of breathless anxiety. No one could tell what might next happen. Spider might have fancied that the eyes turned aloft were directed at him, instead of towards the sluggish royals. Wistfully he gazed at the green branches, but he was too wise a monkey to suppose that he could reach them. Still, with his tail curled under it, he sat on the truck, as comfortably posted as he could desire.

Scarcely a word was uttered only occasionally Stella and her father exchanged observations. The colonel seemed positively to enjoy the anxiety.

“Ah! now we have an example of what strict discipline can accomplish,” he said. “Spaniards or Frenchmen would have given way to despair and lost their ship. These fine fellows will save theirs, though they would have been wiser to have taken the wider passage. Would that I had a thousand or two of such: there might be better hope for the regeneration of South America.”

“You will succeed in spite of all difficulties,” said Stella, looking up into her father’s face with a proud, fond glance; “you will conquer them.”

Ten, twenty minutes went slowly by, the bright sun beating down fiercely on deck, and on the heads of the people in the boats, till they felt as if their brains were frying. Mr Cherry sent the dingy ahead with a breaker of water to them. It was drained to the last drop. Suddenly the royals were seen slowly to bulge out; the topgallant-sails followed their example.

“Let fall! sheet home!” cried the captain, and on the word the whole crew were set in motion, those on deck tramping along at headlong speed with the sheets in their hands.

“Slip the cable, starboard the helm!” were the next orders. Adair shouted to those in the boats to pull ahead. The chain ran out as the ship slowly gathered way with her head across the channel, and she began to move off from the threatening cliffs. In the course of a few minutes she had gained the centre of the passage, when steering south she re-entered the gulf, and came to anchor. Here she remained, the boats having been sent to recover the anchor, till a favourable breeze carried her through the Boca de Navios, and clear away from the land.

Chapter Five.

Grenada—Fall in with the Tudor—Murray’s first meeting with Stella—Master Spider introduced to Mr Scrofton—Arrival at Antigua—Scenery and adventures on shore—Alick Murray in love—A boat excursion—A capsize—A long swim—Anxiety on board—A search—The missing ones found.

Early the next morning the frigate made that lovely gem of the ocean, Grenada, and just as the fortifications crowning Richmond heights came in view, and the slopes of the surrounding hills, covered with orange groves and palm-trees, plantations, and fields, amid which sparkling streams rushed downward to the sea, a ship was seen standing out of the harbour. She was at once known by her number to be the Tudor. The frigate was immediately hove-to, and the corvette having approached, imitated her example. A boat was forthwith lowered from the latter, and Alick Murray, accompanied by Archy Gordon, came on board the Plantagenet. Alick having delivered the despatches of which he was the bearer to the captain, was warmly greeted by his old friends, whom he accompanied into the gunroom, while Archy was hurried down into the midshipmen’s berth.

Both parties were eager to hear each other’s adventures. The corvette had been detained longer than was expected at Madeira, and had been three days in the magnificent harbour of Grenada.

“Oh, it’s a braw place, there’s ne’er doot about that,” said Archy. “They say it’s just like Italy, and if so, Italy must be a beautiful country. Hills and dales, covered with plantations, sic fruits and flowers, and a plenty of Scotsmen. It has only one fault; there are no ladies, unless they call the black lassies who gang wi’ blue silk parasols and na shoes to their feet so.”

Archy’s description of the island made all hands eager to visit it, and much disappointment was felt when the sails were filled, and, in company with the Tudor, a course was steered for Saint Vincent.

Stella had been on deck, watching the approaching corvette, and she could not help remarking the young and handsome lieutenant who came from her on board the frigate. Alick was not introduced, but he stood for some time talking to Captain Hemming not far off, and occasionally his eyes glanced towards her lovely countenance, while he wondered who she could be. It was one of the first questions he put when he reached the gunroom. Every one had plenty to say about her and her father. He did not express his own opinion; had he admired her less he might have done so. Alick Murray returned on board the corvette with the image of Stella impressed on his heart. Like a wise man he tried to banish it, but go it would not. Again and again that sweet countenance rose up before him, and he longed for an opportunity of meeting her again—of hearing her voice, of ascertaining her opinions, of learning her history.

The ships visited Saint Vincent, Saint Lucia, Dominica, and other islands in succession, the one vying with the other in beauty, though the palm was given to the few first seen. As to the blacks, they all appeared sufficiently quiet, so that only two or three days were spent at each island.

The midshipmen had not forgotten their object in purchasing Spider, and every day they had him into their berth to give him instructions in polite knowledge, as they took care to tell Mr Scrofton. With all the pains they took, however, he made no perceptible progress, though he had no objection to eat the nuts and fruits offered him, provided they were ripe and sweet, or to sit with a stick in his paws, and shoulder it at the word of command. Still he infinitely preferred frolicking about on deck, or swinging by his tail to a horizontal spar, slung for his accommodation. He appeared altogether perfectly reconciled to his lot, except when the ship was in harbour, when he would go aloft and sit on the main-truck, gazing towards the green trees, while he chattered away, evidently, as Gerald said, meditating on the pleasures of his youth, spent amid his native forests.

At last, one day, the midshipmen conducted Spider in due form, dressed in a coat and trousers, with a tarpaulin hat they had manufactured for him, to the boatswain’s cabin.

“We have done our best, Mr Scrofton, to bring up this monkey in the way he should go, in order to become a civilised being,” said Tom, with perfect gravity. “Notwithstanding all our pains he doesn’t know A from Z; and though we have tried to make him understand how to light the lamp, he can no more use the matches than at first, and puts them in his mouth, or throws them away if given to him; and when it has been lighted he pokes his paws into the flame to see what the curious red thing is just sprung out of the wick.”

“I don’t expect that you ever will teach him, young gentlemen,” answered the boatswain seriously. “It would take centuries to produce the change. After many generations of domestic life that long tail of his, having become useless, would disappear; his hinder paws would take the form of human feet; his forehead would expand; his arms would become shorter, his body stouter—till at length all outward trace of his monkey origin would be lost. That’s what my books say, and I believe them.”

“Very good; I won’t dispute the point,” said Tom. “But I want to know boxy the first monkeys who turned into men got their education, by which the change was produced. As long as they had got their tails they never would have thought of leaving their native forests, so well suited to them.”

“I haven’t quite arrived at that part of the subject,” answered the boatswain; “but I’ll consult my books and tell you.”

“Suppose we teach him seamanship, how long do you think it will be before he’s fit to be boatswain of a ten-gun brig, Mr Scrofton?” asked Gerald, in the most innocent tone he could assume.

Just then some one gave Master Spider a sly pinch on the tail, which made him grin and chatter, and of course set all the midshipmen laughing. Mr Scrofton, not perceiving the cause, thought that they were laughing at him, and casting an angry glance from his ferrety eyes at Gerald, he answered, “I’ll tell you what, young gentlemen, it would be in my opinion about the same time that it would take to fit you for the post, unless you mend your manners. The boatswain even of a ten-gun brig must be a man of character, and no jackanapes can ever become one; and the boatswain of a frigate, you’ll understand, is not to be sneered at with impunity.”

“That’s the very point at issue!” exclaimed Tom, clapping his hands, and in no ways daunted by the boatswain’s anger. “You acknowledge, then, that a monkey never can become a boatswain, and that Lord Monboddo is altogether in the wrong?”

“I don’t acknowledge anything of the sort, because I know nothing about the matter,” answered the boatswain, not intending to say what he did. “But let me inform you, if you bring that monkey of yours here again to mock me, I shall be compelled to take measures for putting a stop to such audacious proceedings.”

The midshipmen fearing, from the vengeful look Mr Scrofton cast at poor Spider, that their pet’s life was in danger, endeavoured to calm his anger by assuring him that they had no intention of being disrespectful, and that they begged he would retain his own opinion, notwithstanding anything they had said on the subject. They had a hearty laugh when they got back to the berth, fully resolved to bait the boatswain again on the first opportunity.

At length the two ships lay snugly moored off the Royal Dockyard, English harbour, in the island of Antigua, the prettiest of all pretty harbours. Their arrival caused no small commotion among the inhabitants, especially of the softer sex, when it was known that they were to remain some time, and that a ball was to be given to the officers at Government House. Colonel O’Regan and his daughter went on shore to stay with their friends, Mr and Mrs Houghton, who had a pretty cottage residence in the neighbourhood. A deputation came soon afterwards to invite them to the ball. At first Stella was disposed to decline the honour, as it involved a drive of eleven miles across the island to Saint John’s, the capital; but Lieutenant Murray, who happened to be calling at the house, adding his solicitations, she accepted the invitation. The colonel was much disconcerted by the delay. He had expected to be at Jamaica some time before, where, as he told Captain Hemming, he intended to leave his daughter with some friends while he made an excursion to the Spanish Main. The object he had in view he did not explain. As there was no help for it he was obliged to submit, and the captain assured him that after leaving Antigua his intention was to proceed direct to Jamaica. Antigua, although not so lovely as other islands to the south, possesses a beauty of its own, and several trips to enjoy its scenery were made by the officers into the interior. On two occasions, Alick and Jack accompanied Stella and her father. While Jack took charge of the colonel, Alick rode by Stella’s side. Each time he met her the more he was attracted, and yet he could not say that she gave him any encouragement. She was interested in his conversation, for he was better informed and talked better than his brother officers, but had she discovered his devoted admiration? They reached a spot near the coast almost on the summit of one of the lofty cliffs which form ramparts in most parts around the island, and from whence the ground slopes inwards in gradual declivities towards the green and grassy centre. The whole island, which is of a rough circular form, lay in sight. A line of fortifications crowned an opposite height overlooking the sea on one side, and a wide extent of country, consisting of undulating downs and verdant fields, in which countless cattle were feeding, with the numerous houses of the planters embosomed in trees on the other. In the north-west the town of Saint John’s was clearly seen; while here and there, some of the many deep creeks and bays which indent the coastline could be distinguished running far inland, several swelling into estuaries and others forming commodious harbours. Isles and islets of all shapes and sizes lay scattered off the shore, and far away towards the west the islands of Guadaloupe, Montserrat, Nevis, and Saint Kitt’s, rose out of the blue ocean.

“What a perfect Arcadian scene!” said Alick, as he and his companion gazed over the smiling landscape.

“And the Arcadians are kept in proper order by yonder frowning batteries,” remarked Stella, pointing to the line of fortifications. “Until free and enlightened governments are established throughout the globe, we cannot hope to find a true Arcadia. How many a lovely region such as that now spread out before us has suddenly become the scene of rapine and bloodshed!”

“But those batteries are intended to defend not to overawe the inhabitants, and wherever the glorious flag of England waves, there, at all events, we may hope to find true liberty and peace,” answered Alick.

“I would, then, that the flag of England were waving now over the whole world,” said Stella, with an involuntary sigh; “I long for peace and rest, but since those who have the power are supine or indifferent to the sufferings of their fellow-creatures, it must be left to individuals to attempt the task of redressing the wronged, and restoring freedom to the oppressed.”

Alick was puzzled what to answer. He guessed that Stella was alluding to her father’s schemes for regenerating the world. As far as he understood them, from the few remarks the colonel had let drop, they were, he considered, utterly hopeless, but he could not tell Stella so. One thing, however, he discovered that though her enthusiasm and love for her father had made her warmly enter into his views, she was a true woman at heart, and as really feminine as he could desire. Alick changed the subject, and soon interested her with a description of his Highland home and the Western islands of Scotland. He fancied as they rode back that her manner had become softer when she addressed him than at first, and that she listened more willingly to him than to any of the other officers. At all events, he enjoyed a happiness in her company he had never before known, though he could not at times forget that in a few days they must be parted, and that the chances of meeting again were very small.

English Harbour is not so much liked by midshipmen as by gunroom officers and captains, the former having shorter leave and smaller purses, not being able to get away so often to amuse themselves in the capital on the other side of the island as their superiors.

Mr Houghton, a friend of Colonel O’Regan, had come on board to take luncheon with the midshipmen, as had Alick Gordon.

“I vote we take a cruise this afternoon,” exclaimed Tom. “Mr Houghton, you were saying that you wished to go down to Falmouth Harbour, and Mr Cherry will, I daresay, lend us the pinnace. It is only about two miles to leeward, and we can beat back again in time to land you for your dinner-hour.”

Mr Houghton accepted the invitation. Tom forthwith went to the first lieutenant, with whom he was a favourite, to ask for the boat.

“You may have her, youngster,” was the answer; “but keep a look-out for squalls; they are apt to come off the shore without warning, and you may be capsized in a moment if you are not on your guard.”

“Thank you, sir, we will take great care,” answered Tom, returning to the berth to report the success of his mission.

Mr Jennings, the lieutenant of marines, hearing that they were going, begged to accompany them. Desmond, Archy, and Norris, McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, and the captain’s clerk, made up the party, with two men to look after the boat while they were on shore.

The wind was light, the sea smooth, and with all sail set before the breeze they ran down the coast. In a short time they arrived at their destination, and, as the weather was hot and they had not much time to spare, they amused themselves on the beach while Mr Houghton went up to pay his visit. He was not long absent, and on his return they at once shoved off and stood to the southward, hoping to find more wind at a distance from the shore. They were a merry party, and as usual stories were told and songs sung. They had made several tacks, but as yet had got not more than half way back to the ship.

“We will go about again,” said Norris, who was at the helm. “At all events inshore we shall feel less of the current which drifts us to leeward almost as fast as we beat to windward.”

The boat was put about, and once more headed in towards the land, which was about two miles distant.

“Now McTavish, give us one of your Scotch songs,” exclaimed Lieutenant Jennings; “the ‘Laird of Cockpen,’ or something of that sort.”

McTavish, who though he had not much of a voice, contrived to make his songs popular by the humour he threw into his tone, had sung about a stave or so, and Norris and the rest of the party, with laughing countenances, while listening to his song, forgot Mr Cherry’s caution.

The boat had been gliding smoothly on, when suddenly over she heeled. Norris, putting down the helm, shouted out—

“Let go the halyards!” but before a hand could reach the cleats her gunwale was under water.

“We are going over,” cried Norris. “Up to windward all of you.” Saying this he sprang to the weather side, and the rest followed his example: though they could not right her, yet she went over so slowly that they all had time to scramble up on her side before her canvas touched the water. The sails being flattened aft assisted to support her, and prevent her from going right over. For the first moment all believed that she would sink and leave them alone on the surface. Fortunately, however, her ballast consisted of breakers of water which, not being secured, floated out.

“Come, at all events we have something to hold on to,” said Tom, “and now we must try and right the boat.”

“Who has got a knife?”

Every person felt in his pockets, but no knife could be found. The seamen, strange to say, had come away without theirs; they and the midshipmen attempted to cast off the sheets, but the side of the boat to which they were made fast being under water could not be reached. For some time no one spoke; at the distance they were from the ship they could not hope to have been seen.

“Is there no chance of our drifting on shore?” asked Norris at length.

“I am afraid not,” answered Mr Houghton. “The current sets away from the land, and we shall be carried farther and farther from it.”

They looked anxiously around for a sail, on the chance that she might pass near them. Not one was to be seen standing towards the land. Again a desperate attempt was made to right the boat.

“If we had but a knife we could do it,” cried Tom. “I will never again step into a boat without one.”

“We shall be fortunate if we have the opportunity,” observed McTavish. “There is but little chance of our being picked up, and as to any of us reaching the shore that seems impossible.”

No answer was made to his remark. The squall which had capsized the boat was succeeded by others. The weather was evidently changing for the worse, and the boat drifting farther and farther from the land. Their prospects were dreary in the extreme, indeed almost hopeless. The gunwale of the boat on which they were seated was only six inches out of the water, so that should a sea get up they might all quickly be washed away.

Norris felt very unhappy, as he had been at the helm. “I hope that you fellows will forgive me,” he said. “I little expected the boat to capsize so suddenly, though I ought to have kept a better look-out.”

“Don’t talk about it,” answered Tom. “It was as much our fault as yours. We have each of us much to ask forgiveness for if we were to count up old scores.”

“Mr Jennings, I hope you will forgive me for capsizing you in the gale when we were coming out from England.”

“Of course, youngster,” he answered gravely; “I have not thought about it since.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Tom, as if his mind had been relieved of a burden.

“I hope old Scrofton won’t be thinking about the tricks we have played him.”

“I was just after thinking that I wish he may not ill-treat Spider,” cried Desmond; “I don’t know what the poor baste will do without us.”

“What we have to do is to forgive all others from the bottom of our hearts,” remarked Archy. “We need not trouble ourselves what they will think or say of us.”

Archy, who was a true Christian, made several other fitting remarks, clearly pointing out to his companions the only way by which they could be prepared for the new existence into which there seemed every probability they would soon have to enter.

“It’s a grievous thought, my friends, that we do not all so live that we may be fit at any moment to die,” he observed calmly.

Few of those present failed to agree with him, and for the time, at all events, to wish that they were as well prepared as he appeared to be.

Again they were all silent for some minutes.

“Something must be done!” exclaimed Tom, who had been thinking over the matter, and in his own mind had resolved what to do.

“It’s too far for any of us to swim to shore,” observed Mr Jennings; “I would try it, but I never could keep afloat five minutes together.”

“I, too, am a miserable swimmer,” sighed Mr Houghton. “Besides which, the sharks would take good care not to allow one of us to reach the shore,” he added, in a whisper.

Neither of the seamen could swim, and McTavish, the only other grown man of the party, had had very little practice either.

“Well, then,” exclaimed Tom, “I will try it! My brother Jack swam on shore when the Racer was wrecked in the Mediterranean, and was the means of saving the lives of many of the people; I am not a much worse swimmer than he was then; I feel sure that I could do it if I had a companion. It’s a long way to go alone through the silent water.”

“Faith! I would go with you,” cried Desmond, “but I am afraid that I should keep you back rather than help you forward.”

Archy Gordon, who had sat silent during the discussion, suddenly exclaimed, “I am not so good a swimmer as you are, Tom, but I see no other way of saving our lives, and if I go down I shall at all events be doing my duty.”

“Thank you, Archy,” said Tom; “I accept your offer, and will do my best to help you along.”

Had any other means offered, the rest of the party would not have allowed the young midshipmen to run so fearful a hazard of their lives. Mr Houghton, especially, knew well the danger they would encounter from the sharks, but he said nothing to damp their courage.

Archy at once began to get ready. Taking off his shoes and jacket, he gave them to McTavish, and begged him to preserve them for him.

Tom followed his example, though not, indeed, with the same careful spirit as his friend; he threw his jacket and shoes into the water. They both kept on their socks, which were providentially coloured, as well as the rest of their clothes.

“Good-bye, old fellows,” said Tom; “we must lose no more time.” And he and Archy shook hands with all round. “Now, Archy, we will start, and strike out bravely.” Tom suiting the action to the word slipped into the water, Archy did the same. On they went, keeping alongside each other. Archy found that he could swim better than he had expected, and he and Tom cheered up each other.

“I wish Gerald had been with us,” said Tom. “Our chances of escape are better than those on the wreck.”

Now and then they turned on their backs, resting for a little; striking out, however, with their arms and legs, so that they still made headway.

Tom, under his brother’s instructions, had become a first-rate swimmer, and for his age was wonderfully muscular; so that he was able to go on steadily without feeling exhausted. Archy, though taller and bigger, from having had less practice, more quickly began to feel fatigued. The shore seemed a long way off; still they had already, they saw, not a considerable distance from the boat, for they could scarcely distinguish her as she floated just above the surface. Tom thought that they must be a mile from the shore. Again they threw themselves on their backs, pushing on with their feet and keeping their arms moving round and round. When Tom looked back, he could no longer see the boat; he did not, however, tell Archy of this, he could not help fearing that she had sunk.

“Are you rested, Archy?” he asked.

“Yes!” was the answer, though not in quite so confident a tone as Tom would have liked.

“Well, then, on we go again,” said Tom, and they swam

steadily forward as before. Scarcely a minute after this, as Tom cast his eye on one side, what was his horror to observe the fin and back of a huge shark, scarcely more than a fathom from him. The monster shot by. “I only hope it is steering a different course to ours,” thought Tom. Just then he caught sight of the wicked eye of another at the same distance, following in the wake of the first. He did not tell Archy what he had seen, for fear of unnerving him, while he kept striking out with might and main, letting his feet rise higher than he would otherwise have done for the sake of creating a splash, and shouting as he swam on—

“Strike away, Archy. Bravo! We are getting on famously.”

Archy in the meantime was doing his best, though his legs and arms began to ache; still he resolved, as long as his strength would hold out, to persevere. At length he felt that he could do no more.

“Go on, Tom,” said he faintly. “Make the best of your way on shore and get help for the poor fellows, I will follow as fast as I can.”

“No! no!” answered Tom, “I am not going to desert you, come rest your head on my chest. It will help you wonderfully, just consider me a piece of cork, you know I float like one, only keep your legs kicking and your arms moving smartly.”

Tom did not tell Archy why he gave this advice, but he knew very well that if they were to remain quiet for an instant the cowardly sharks would make a dart at them, and that only by splashing vigorously could they keep off the monsters. He himself did so with his legs and one hand, while he placed the other under his friend’s back. Archy felt his strength much restored after this rest, and declared himself ready to go on again. On they went once more. Though they were certain that they had made good way, still the shore appeared fearfully far off, as they gazed at it with eyes growing somewhat dim from fatigue.

Archy exerted himself more than he would before have considered possible, but once more a faintness came over him.

“Oh! Tom, I am sinking, don’t wait for me, you will soon reach the shore now,” he cried out.

Tom, however, approaching with a couple of strokes, seized him, and once more placed his head on his chest, striking furiously with his own feet; for the instant before he had seen another shark, and the monster seemed eyeing him as if about to make a grab at his arms and legs.

“Keep your feet kicking out, as I told you before,” he exclaimed. “You will not sink, and it will keep them from getting the cramp. Kick, Archy! Kick!”

Archy could with difficulty do so, still he felt a great relief to his arms, and suddenly his strength again seemed to return.

“I will go on now,” he said, turning once more round, and he and Tom swam on together as before, with their eyes fixed on the shore. Each time that Archy felt faint he was aroused by Tom’s encouraging cries, and nerved himself to fresh exertions. How anxiously they strained their eyes ahead! the shore grew more and more distinct, and yet it seemed a long way off. At length they could distinguish the sandy beach and the green herbage beyond. Again Archy’s strength began to fail him. Near as was the shore, he felt that he might not, after all, be able to reach it. His sensations were those of a person in a dreadful dream. Even Tom began to feel his strength almost exhausted. Archy once more cried out that he was sinking. That moment Tom felt his feet touch something; a horror for an instant seized him. It might be the back of a shark; still on he struck, towing Archy. Again his feet touched something below him; it did not yield. He tried again. Yes, he was, sure; it was firm ground.

“Hurrah, Archy! we are on shore at last,” he cried out. “Let your feet fall, and you will find I am right.”

“Thank God!” answered Archy, as his feet also touched the sand.

Happily the sea was smooth, and there was no outdrift. Even then Archy felt that he could scarcely reach the beach. Tom gave him his hand, exclaiming—

“Come on; we have not far to go now, at all events.”

They waded on. Gradually the water shoaled as they made their way up the shelving sand. Tom felt his strength returning, hot Archy could with difficulty make headway. Now the water reached only to their middles; now it was scarcely knee-deep, and they were able to get on faster. Tom breathed more freely, for he expected to see Archy drop every instant. Scarcely, indeed, had they reached the dry sand than down he sank. Toot threw himself by his side.

“Cheer up, Archy; we are safe,” he exclaimed. “Don’t give way now.”

“I shall be better soon,” said Archy; “but oh! Tom, let us return thanks to Him who has preserved us. Don’t let us fancy it was our own strength. I never otherwise could have done it, I know.”

“I am thankful—indeed I am; but we must not forget our companions.”

“Go, and try to get a boat, and put off to them; I will follow you as soon as I am able to.”

It was already getting dusk, and the gloom was increased by thick clouds gathering in the sky, betokening a blowing night. Tom saw, indeed, that no time was to be lost, and, finding that Archy could not yet move, he unwillingly left him, and hurried off to obtain assistance.

We must now return on board the Plantagenet. When Mr Cherry found that the boat did not make her appearance, as it was long past the time the midshipmen promised to be back, he felt somewhat annoyed, and made up his mind that the next time they asked for the boat they should not have her.

He was walking the deck, when the quartermaster announced that a boat had come off from the shore with a black in her, who had something to say about a pinnace, but what it was he could not exactly make out.

“Let him come on deck at once,” said Mr Cherry, hurrying to the gangway.

“What is it you have to say, my man?” he asked.

The negro doffed his hat, twisting and wriggling about, apparently either from nervousness at finding himself on board a man-of-war, or from his anxiety to deliver his message properly.

Mr Cherry, however, managed to make out that a boat had been capsized, that two midshipmen had swum on shore, and that they had gone off again in two boats to search for the wreck.

Just then Jack and Terence, who had been on shore, returned, and, on cross-questioning the black, they felt satisfied that Tom and Archy Gordon were the two midshipmen who had reached the shore, and that those remaining on the wreck were in extreme peril.

The report of what had happened quickly spread through the ship, and every one felt anxious about their shipmates.

Four boats were immediately manned, Jack and Terence each taking command of one, Higson going in a third, and Mr Scrofton having charge of the fourth. The first ready having called alongside the Tudor to give the information, two of her boats were immediately despatched to aid in the search. The weather in the meantime, as night advanced, grew worse and worse. Down came a deluge of rain, while vivid lightning darted from the sky; the wind, too, had been rising, and as they got outside the harbour they found a considerable sea running.

Each officer was to take the direction he judged best. Before shoving off the boatswain got the black, who brought the information, into his boat, and pumping him learnt exactly whereabouts the pinnace had capsized, while he also ascertained the direction in which the current ran.

It might seem an easy thing to fall in with a boat which had capsized scarcely a mile off; but some hours had elapsed since the accident had occurred, and during all that time she must have drifted for a considerable distance. The direction in which she had gone also could be calculated only by those who knew exactly the set and rate of the current. Jack and Terence went away fully believing that they should before long fall in with the wreck; their only fear was that those left on it might have been washed off, or, succumbing to fatigue, have dropped into the water. The thunder rattled and the lightning flashed over head. Between the intervals they often fancied they could hear the voices of their shipmates hailing them; sometimes, too, through the gloom they imagined that they could see the boat on her side, with a few still clinging to her; but when they got up to the spot, she was not there. Though Terence hoped to find all the party, he naturally felt most anxious on account of Gerald Desmond.

“I ought to have thought of the risks he would have had to run,” he said to himself. “To be sure I got into a good many scrapes and tumbled out of them, and I hope he may. I cannot bear the thoughts of having to write to my poor sister, and to tell her that her boy is lost.”

Still the boats continued searching in every direction; the wind blowing fresh, and the foaming seas hissing round them. There was little hope, indeed, that they should find those they were looking for, though the boat herself might by chance be fallen in with some time or other.

Mr Scrofton, meantime, who, though a bad philosopher, was a thorough seaman, had run down at about the distance from the shore he understood the pinnace had been when capsized. He had, however, passed the spot, according to his calculations, some way, no sign of the wreck having been seen, when a hail was heard.

“There they are! hurrah!” cried some of the men.

“No, no; that came from a boat. I see her.”

“What boat is that?” asked Mr Scrofton.

“A shore-boat, and I am Tom Rogers,” was the answer.

The boats were soon alongside each other. Tom said that as soon as he could procure a boat he had shoved off, and that Archy Gordon had done the same—he was at no great distance in another boat.

“You don’t expect to find her hereabouts,” said Mr Scrofton. “She will have been carried according to my calculation, four or it may be five miles more to the southward by this time, and it will take us the best part of an hour before we are up to her. My plan is to run down that distance, or more than that, and then to beat back. It’s better to go rather beyond her than a little short, and if she is still floating we shall fall in with her.”

Tom saw the wisdom of this plan, and the two boats stood on in company, a bright look-out being kept on either side. They had run on for some time when Tom thought that they must have gone far enough, but the boatswain persevered. Tom’s boat being manned by blacks he had nothing to do but look out. Fully half-an-hour had passed, when he thought he saw an object ahead. He hailed Mr Scrofton’s boat.

“All right!” was the answer, “I see her.”

“Let go the halyards,” cried the boatswain, and the sails were lowered, but as they approached great was Tom’s sorrow to see only five people clinging to the boat. Mr Houghton and Lieutenant Jennings were among them, but he could not distinguish Gerald Desmond.

“Poor fellow, he must have gone,” he murmured.

“Where are the rest?” asked Mr Scrofton, as the boat ran alongside, and eager hands were stretched out to lift the sufferers on board, for they could with difficulty help themselves. “We are glad to see you, though.”

“They had not left us five minutes before we saw you,” answered Mr Jennings; “they cannot as yet be many hundred yards off.”

Tom immediately pulled away towards the shore in the direction the swimmers must have taken. He knew that though the time was short they might have all sunk, or that the ravenous sharks might have got hold of them. Nothing but despair, indeed, would have induced them to make the attempt.

Great was his relief on seeing at length four heads above the surface, with their faces directed landward. So intent were they, indeed, that they were not aware of his approach. Each one had lashed himself to an oar with the faint hope, though they had but little notion, of swimming, of gaining the shore. Tom’s shout was the first intimation they had of his escape, for they all had given him and Archy up as lost.

Desmond was the first helped on board, and great was their delight at meeting. Highly satisfied with the success of his expedition, Mr Scrofton received all the party on board, promising the blacks in the shore-boat a further reward if they would tow the pinnace towards the shore. He then, with the rescued party, made the best of his way back to the ship, happily soon afterwards falling in with Archy Gordon; whose boat, while he was taken on board, was sent to assist the other shore-boat.

Captain Hemming, who felt very anxious on their account, was too glad to get them back to find fault. Tom and Archy received the praise which was their due for their gallant act, while Mr Scrofton was properly complimented by the captain for his sagacity and judgment, and the midshipmen resolved never more to attempt to quiz him about his philosophical notions.

Jack and Terence did not get back till daylight, when they found that Tom and Gerald had been snug in their hammocks for several hours. They felt somewhat inclined to quarrel with them for the trouble they had given, though in reality heartily thankful that they had escaped.

Chapter Six.

The cruise of the drogher—Barbuda field-sports—Hospitably entertained—Sail again—Captain Quasho—A drunken crew—Reach Saba—The island explored—The black crew take French leave—Higson and others go in search of them—The three midshipmen and Needham driven off the land by a hurricane—The drogher disappears in the darkness of night.

Although all the gunroom officers who could get leave were anxious to go to the ball, old Higson, who was not a dancing man, and some of the youngsters from both ships declared that it would be a great bore. Notwithstanding the fearful danger so many of them had lately escaped, they took it into their heads that it would be far pleasanter to make a trip somewhere by sea. After due discussion they hired a drogher, a country vessel employed in running between the surrounding islands and islets. She was sloop-rigged, of about thirty tons, with a small cabin aft, a capacious hold, and a forecastle for the black crew—honest fellows, but not pleasant neighbours in a close atmosphere. Higson went in command. Tom, and Gerald, and Norris, with Archy Gordon, and another midshipman, and a master’s-assistant from the corvette, with Dick Needham, formed the party, including, of course, Master Spider, who was taken to make fun. The mids also had their doubts as to the treatment he might receive from Mr Scrofton during their absence.

It was settled that they should first steer for Barbuda, where snipes were to be shot, fish caught, and deer hunted, and that then, wind and weather permitting, they should visit other islands in the neighbourhood. Provisions enough to last them twice the time they were likely to be away were shipped, and liquors in proportion. They fully expected to enjoy themselves amazingly.

After beating out of the harbour, and rounding the east end of the island, under the pilotage of the regular skipper, Captain Quasho, they had a fair wind for Barbuda, where they arrived early in the day, and cast anchor in a small harbour. They were cordially received by the overseer, who happened to be close at hand, and who, with one assistant, constituted the white population of the island. He gave them leave to kill as many birds as they could hit, promised them horses to ride in chase of deer, and, what was more to the purpose, invited them to dinner at his residence, the castle, an ancient fortalice on the shores of a lagoon some distance off. They agreed to shoot till the arrival of the steeds, which the overseer rode back to order.

After a considerable expenditure of powder to little purpose, for Tom, the best shot among them, had only killed one snipe, a troop of horses, led by several black cavaliers, dressed in leathern caps and high hoots, with belts round their waists, and duck-guns slung over their shoulders, and followed by a pack of hounds, made their appearance. Their leader announced that they were the huntsmen, and invited the officers to mount the steeds they had brought. Tom inspected the horses with no favourable eye. They were sorry animals, but the rest of the party were not particular, and all were soon mounted. As to going, that was another thing—four miles an hour was the utmost their riders were likely to get out of them. The midshipmen kicked their heels with might and main, and whacked the poor beasts’ backs till their arms ached, but not a foot faster would they move.

“I say, Sambo, how shall we ever run down the deer with these brutes?” asked Higson, perspiring at every pore from his exertions. The black huntsman grinned at the notion of overtaking the deer.

“No, no, massa, we get round dem, and shoot with guns. Surer way to kill dem.”

“At all events let’s go and see the style of sport,” said Higson, and the party set forward. The island is mostly flat, and so covered with high bushes that they could see neither to the right hand nor to the left. They reached a forest of considerable extent, when, after some time, the dogs started a deer, which Sambo’s huge duck-gun, loaded with slugs, brought to the ground. Scarcely was the venison bagged than down came such torrents of rain that the party were speedily wet to the skin, and were glad to make the best of their way towards the castle, keeping close together not to lose each other. The wardrobe of their host furnished them with dry clothing—the elders with shirts and trousers, the younger having to dispense with the latter garments, and in somewhat masquerading guise her Majesty’s officers sat down to a sumptuous repast of turtle and venison, several varieties of fish, and land-crabs of exquisite flavour. Bottled beer and wine in abundance made them all very jolly, but there was a drawback. Flights of mosquitoes came buzzing and biting them, unmercifully revelling in the youngster’s fresh blood, till some oakum set on fire, with fresh leaves thrown on it, put the miscreant insects to the rout. Cigars and pipes were produced, and the midshipmen thought not of troubles, past or future. Sofas and chairs served them for couches. Old Higson sat up lustily puffing away at his pipe, and thereby escaped the countless punctures and furious itching, of which every one else complained when they got up in the morning. After breakfast their host sent them across the lagoon in two clumsy fishing-boats to see a seine drawn.

The opposite shore gained, the black fishermen having landed their passengers, plunging into the water, carried out their net in a semicircle, and soon began dragging the ends towards the strand. The mids of course lent a hand, hauling at one end, while some of the negroes took the other, and the rest tumbled about outside, laughing and shouting, and beating the water to frighten their prisoners. In spite of them some fifty or more of the biggest fish, dreading the cauldron or frying-pan, making a bold dash for liberty, fairly leaped over the net, most of them, as they rose three or four feet out of the water, clearing the heads of the negroes, while several sprang right into their faces, capsizing one stout fellow, and making two or three others howl and caper in a way which set the midshipmen roaring with laughter. They had, notwithstanding this, a capital haul, consisting of baracoutas, snappers, gold and silver fish, Spanish mackerel, king-fish, and others. Tom and Gerald, in their eagerness, rushed into the water to catch hold of some of their prey, when a monster gave a grab at Paddy’s fingers, which made him spring back with alarm. The blacks directly after hauled out a shark big enough to have bitten off his arm, if not to have swallowed him. The same afternoon the adventurers got back to their drogher, the overseer having liberally supplied them with as much venison and fish as they could possibly consume. The chart was got out, and a consultation held as to the place they should next visit. Captain Quasho was called in.

“Take my ’vice, gent’men; wind fair for Saba—cur’us place—den call at Saint Kitts—fine oranges dere. See Mount Misery—big craig up to de sky, ten tousand feet high,” (Quasho was a little over the mark), “and so on to Nevis—lubly isle, and we get back to English Harbour in good time. Yes; I forgot dere one more isle we go see. Me got broder dere. Only one buckra, massa, and him family berry glad see officers; plenty fun, oh yes! Den we stop a day or two and catch fish. Plenty fine fish in dees seas, massa. Great big baracouta and glouper—him fifty pound weight; and mauget, and hedgehog, and jew-fish; him wonderful good to eat, fit for de Queen of England,” and Quasho smacked his lips. “Den dere is de snapper and flatfork, and squerrel and parot-fish, wid just all de colours like de bird; and de abacore, almost as big as de glouper; and, let me see, de doctor—him got lance in de tail, and so him called doctor, ho! ho! and den dere is de king-fish, and de wattee, de kind, de comaree, de convalby, de old wife, de cobbler, de ten pounder, de garr, bolalwe, reay, de shew, and me don’t saby how many more.” Quasho here ceased enumerating for want of breath, declaring that he had not mentioned half the delicious and curious fish the buckra officers were sure to catch if they tried; and that he would undertake to procure hooks and lines should they wish it.

Quasho was not disinterested in giving this advice. The drogher was hired by the day, and the longer she was out the more he pocketed. The midshipmen did not reflect on this, and thought his advice good. Old Higson also was in no hurry to get back to the ship to attend to the unpleasant duties of the mate of the lower deck. He was captain for the nonce, and command is sweet, even over a black crew and a set of boisterous youngsters. The anchor was got up, and sail made accordingly for Saba.

A moonlight night on the Caribbean Sea in fine weather is very enjoyable, provided a person does not go to sleep with his eyes gazing at the pale luminary, for if he escapes being moon-stricken he will certainly get a stiff neck or suffer in some other way. The youngsters enjoyed themselves to their hearts’ content, and when tired of skylarking with Spider, piped to supper, after which those not on watch turned in. What were the rats, cockroaches, and centipedes swarming in the little confined cabin, redolent of tobacco smoke and spirits, to them? Not one-thousandth part as bad as the detestable mosquitoes on the shores of the Barbuda lagoon, they agreed. So some occupied the bunks—regular ovens—others the lockers, and Tom took possession of the cabin-table, the least stifling spot, but tenable only—and that by no human being but a midshipman—in moderate weather. Old Higson took the first watch. Timmins, the master’s-assistant was far too eloquent just then to be trusted, and Norris was to have the middle watch. He at all events was steady. Quasho, however, had taken more Montserrat rum on board than was good for his intellects such as they were, and Higson suspected that he was as likely to steer north as west, or to box the compass if left in charge. Needham was perfectly sober; he was never otherwise when at sea, for he had a strong head, and took but little liquor. It might be too much to answer for him when the ship was paid off. He preferred sleeping on deck to occupying a locker in the cabin; and of course it would not have done to have sent him to sleep forward with the blacks. He did once put his nose through the fore hatchway, and as quickly withdrew it, coughing and spitting to get rid of the disagreeable odour which ascended from below.

“To my mind, Mr Higson, them niggers are all as drunk as sows,” he said, coming aft, and touching his hat as he spoke. “Quasho and the whole lot of them have turned in, and are snoring away like grampusses, except Sambo here at the helm, and he’s pretty well two sheets in the wind.”

Higson had not observed this when he came on deck after supper, for Sambo, a big, powerful negro, was keeping the vessel’s head the right way, and steering a straight course.

“Well, Sambo, how is it with you?” he asked, to ascertain the condition of the man.

“Me sober as judge,” answered the helmsman, in a husky voice. “If de oder black fellers for’ard take too mush rum, no fault o’ mine. I mate of de Snapper, and got character to lose.”

“Take care you don’t lose it then, my friend,” said Higson. “I see how it is. I shall have to put all hands on an allowance, and if you’ve got any rum stowed away I must have it brought aft or hove overboard. You understand me.”

“Yez, massa ossifer, berry right,” answered the black, with a grin.

“You can lie down, Needham, and be ready to keep watch with Mr Norris,” said Higson. “If there isn’t another nigger to relieve Sambo you can take the helm, and as the weather promises to hold fine we shall do very well.”

In less than a minute Dick was asleep with a sail over his head, and Higson paced the deck till past midnight. He then roused up Needham, and sent him down to call Norris. Tom also awaking sprang on deck. As soon as Higson had turned in, Sambo declared that he could no longer stand at the helm, and Needham taking it the black dived into the forepeak. A growling and chattering sound ascended, but no one appeared. It was evident that the negroes considered the buckra officers competent to manage the vessel, and had resolved to take their ease. At daylight the occupants of the cabin came on deck well-baked. They talked of heaving-to and bathing, but the fin of a shark appearing above the surface made them change their minds, and they refreshed themselves by heaving buckets of water over each other. The lazy crew had not yet appeared.

“We’ll soon make them show themselves,” said Higson; and he, Timmins, and Norris, each taking a bucket full to the brim, hove the contents simultaneously down the forepeak. A chorus of shrieks and shouts instantly followed.

“Oh, ki! what happen! Oh lud—oh lud—we all go to be drowned!” exclaimed the blacks, as springing from their berths they tried to make their way on deck. Quasho, with eyes only half-open, bolted right against Higson, sending him sprawling on the deck; the next man capsized Timmins, and would have bolted overboard in his fright had not Tom and Gerald caught him and hauled him back. The head of the big mate next appeared, when those below catching him by the legs pulled him down again, on which he began belabouring them with head and fists and heels till one by one they made their escape, leaving him knocking his skull against the deck, under the belief that he had some of them still under him.

“A pretty set of fellows you are!” exclaimed Higson, rising to his feet. “What would have become of us if we had been caught in a squall and thrown on our beam-ends? No more grog for any of you this cruise—you’ll understand that?”

As soon as the big mate, now the most tipsy of the party, had been got on deck, Higson and Timmins went below, but not a bottle of rum could they find. There were a few cocoa-nuts and gourds in the lockers, and other provisions, but that was all. As the place was horribly unsavoury, they were glad to get on deck again.

“Buckra ossifer no find rum—rum all gone!” said Quasho, with a well-feigned sigh. The other negroes grinned, and the big mate looked highly amused, but said nothing. The fire in the caboose having been lighted, the black skipper acting as cook, the midshipmen sat down to breakfast. Everything now went smoothly enough. Spider afforded a fund of amusement. As the wind was aft, it was too hot to do anything else than play with him. The black crew, with the exception of the man at the helm, lay down forward, and were soon fast asleep. When it was time to relieve him, Captain Quasho kicked up one of the sleepers and sent him aft, expediting his movements by a pretty sharp bang on the head with a frying-pan, observing, “Me know how to keep discipline aboard de Snapper, I tink.” Thus the day wore on—luncheon and dinner occupying a good deal of time, for, in spite of the heat, the midshipmen retained their appetites. The heat increased as the sun rose. If it was hot on deck it was hotter still in the cabin, which the stifling air and the cockroaches rendered almost insupportable. Towards evening they came in sight of the curious island of Saba, having the appearance of a high, barren, conical-shaped rock rising directly out of the ocean. As they got nearer, a few huts were seen at the base of the mountain, and in front a flight of steps hewn out of the solid rock leading to the very summit. They ran in and anchored close to the shore in a little cove. As there was still an hour or more of daylight they agreed to land at once, and explore the place that evening, so that they might sail again next morning. Up the steps they climbed, for it was evident that they must lead somewhere. On reaching the top, what was their surprise to find themselves on the rim of a large circular basin, and looking down on a small town standing in its midst surrounded by vegetable gardens and orchards. The inhabitants received them very cordially not often being troubled by visitors, and offered them the best the island could supply, chiefly vegetables and fish, with the promise of a kid if they would stay till the next day. An unsophisticated race were these Saba islanders. “The world forgetting—by the world forgot.” As there would be no little risk of breaking their necks should they attempt to descend the steps at night, the adventurers wished their hospitable entertainers good-bye and returned to the shore. It was hot on the top of the hill, it was hot everywhere; so they agreed that it would be as well to sail at once, so as to have a longer time to spend at Saint Kitts and Nevis.

On hailing the Snapper, Needham came on shore in the boat. He was in a state of great indignation. A fishing-boat had come alongside, when Quasho with his mate and crew had gone away in her, carrying with them a number of cocoa-nuts and gourds, which they said were to sell to the people on shore; and they had coolly left word that they should not be back till the next morning. “On this, sir,” continued Dick, “I smelt a rat; and on hunting about in the forepeak, I found a cocoa-nut half full of rum. Thinks I to myself, that’s just what they’re going to fill the others with; and when they come back they’ll be as drunk as they were last night, and we shall have to look after the craft instead of them.”

“The rascals!” exclaimed Higson. “We’ll go and kick them up before they’ve had time to do that same. What do you say, boys?”

All were ready to accompany him, but Higson insisted that Tom and Gerald and Archy should go on board and wait till he and the rest returned with the runaways. “You can loose the sails and get ready for weighing as the wind is off-shore. We shan’t be long, depend on that,” he said, as he and the rest turned to make their way towards one of the huts, where they hoped to learn what had become of Quasho and his crew.

Needham and the three youngsters returned on board, and busied themselves as they had been directed. The heat was greater than they had yet experienced since they had been in the West Indies, and they were thankful to see the sun set, albeit, in an unusually ruddy glow, hoping that it would be cooler at night. The wind had dropped completely. There was little prospect of putting to sea that night.

“I don’t half like the look of the weather, Mr Rogers,” said Needham to Tom, who had remained with him on deck, while Gerald and Archy were making preparations for supper below. “I wish we were in a snugger berth, where we could moor ship—that I do.”

“Why the water is as calm as a millpond. I don’t see how we can come to any harm,” answered Tom. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when, with the suddenness of a clap of thunder a fearfully loud rushing sound was heard, as if the top of the mountain was hurtling down on their heads. The next instant they were lifted almost off their legs, and had they not clutched the shrouds they would have been carried overboard. The breath of the hurricane was upon them. The loosened canvas blew out and flapped wildly—the little vessel strained desperately at her anchor, while the water hissed and foamed round her bows. Gerald and Archy wondering what had happened, came rushing up from below.

“What’s to be done?” they both asked.

“The first thing is to get the mainsail and foresail stowed, and then to strike the topmast,” answered Needham.

With their united strength it was no easy matter to secure the mainsail. It was done, however, in a way, when Needham casting his eyes towards the shore, exclaimed—

“The drogher is drifting—we must veer out more cable!”

There were not many fathoms to spare. The fury of the blast, however, had somewhat decreased, and the vessel appeared to be stationary. Needham hurried aloft, and while the midshipmen hauled on the heel-rope of the topmast—the shrouds and stays being slacked—he tugged away at the fid. He had just got it out, when a second blast as furious as the first burst on them—a loud report was heard. Ned slid down like lightning from aloft, and sprang aft to the helm. Tom, who had run forward, exclaimed—

“The cable has parted!”

“I know it,” answered Ned. “Hoist a foot of the foresail, Mr Rogers.”

The drogher spun round like a top, and off she flew before the hurricane.

“Hadn’t we better jump into the boat, and let the vessel go?” asked Archy.

“We could never pull to shore in the teeth of this wind, sir,” answered Needham. “We can’t get her on board, or tow her either—we must let her go.”

Meantime, Tom and Gerald had been busy in stowing the fore-sail and securing the topmast shrouds and stays. As they looked aft for an instant, they could just distinguish some figures on the shore; but amid the wild tumult, no voices could be heard had they shouted ever so loudly. Needham now called Tom and Gerald to take the helm while he tried to find a storm staysail, hoping with a couple of feet of it set to be able to scud before the hurricane.

“It’s our only chance,” he said, “we’ve no hope of beating back till it’s over—and the wider berth we give the island the better; for if the wind shifts we may be blown right on it, and lose the craft and our own lives too.”

The prospect was an appalling one—but the midshipmen did not lose heart. Away flew the drogher amid the roaring seas into the pitchy darkness, which now settled down over the ocean.

Chapter Seven.

A ball at Antigua—A hurricane puts a stop to the dancing—A ride through the storm—Murray’s ride with Stella, and a declaration—Colonel O’Regan and his daughter sail in the Sarah Jane.

The inhabitants of Antigua are noted for their hospitality. The officers of the two ships received as many invitations as they could accept, with the loan of horses whenever they chose to ride. They lived on shore in airy barracks—far pleasanter quarters than the close cabins of the ships afforded. The colonel and his daughter were living at a cottage in the neighbourhood. Murray was Stella’s constant attendant when she rode, and a frequent visitor at the cottage. If her father remarked the attention paid her by the young lieutenant, he did not consider it necessary to interfere. Perhaps he had ascertained that Murray was well off, and thought it best to let matters take their course; or, perhaps, absorbed in his own schemes, it did not occur to him that his daughter, who seemed so devoted to the cause he advocated, could do so weak a thing as fall in love. At all events, Alick lived in an elysium partly created by his imagination, and did not allow the future to interfere with his present happiness. Jack and Adair still thought Stella very charming, but, observing Alick’s devotion to her, they would have considered it a gross breach of friendship to attempt cutting him out. She had other admirers, but she certainly gave them no encouragement. The midshipmen of the frigate thought their captain spoony, and the captain’s clerk of the Tudor was guilty of a most reprehensible breach of confidence, if he spoke the truth, in whispering that he had one day discovered on the commander’s desk a sonnet addressed to Stella’s eyebrow. The fact, however, was doubted, as Captain Babbicome had never been suspected of possessing the slightest poetical talent, nor had a book of poetry ever been seen in his cabin.

“Still,” insisted the clerk, “love can work wonders. It must have been poetry, for the lines all began with capitals, and were written in the middle of the page.”

At length the ball took place. The Antiguan young ladies were full of life and spirit, and danced to perfection, never getting tired, so that the officers had no lack of partners, and voted it great fun. There were many very pretty girls among them, and several with much more of the rose on their cheeks than usually falls to the share of West Indian damsels. Some censorious critic even ventured to hint that it was added by the hand of art. That this was false was evident, for the weather was so hot that had rouge been used it would have inevitably been detected; but the island damsels trusted to their good figures and features, and their lively manners and conversation, rather than to any meretricious charms, to win admiration. Stella was generally considered the most charming of the maidens present, as undoubtedly she was the most blooming, and she seemed to enjoy the ball as much as any one. She danced with Captain Hemming, and went through a quadrille with Commander Babbicome. He then entreated her to perform a valse with him. Laughing heartily, she advised him not to make the attempt. Even the quiet dance had reduced him to a melting mood.

“Why, you have valsed twice with my second lieutenant,” he remarked, his choler rising.

Stella gave him a look which might have shown him that he had better have held his tongue. The ball, which began at a primitively early hour, had been going on for some time, when a fierce blast which shook the building to its very foundations swept over it.

“A hurricane has burst on the island,” was the general exclamation. “Will it be a heavy one?”

The increasing tempest gave the response.

The naval captains thought of their ships, the residents of their plantations. Not that there was much risk for the former, as they were snugly moored; but still it was impossible to say what might happen. Preparations were made by all the officers and several of the gentlemen for instant departure; but, of course, the ladies could not face the tempest. Most of them, however, had not much heart for dancing, when, possibly, before morning their houses would be roofless and their fathers’ plantations laid low. A few persevered, in spite of the whirlwind raging over their heads, but even they had at length to give up. Their host insisted on all his female guests remaining. Cloaks and shawls were collected, and sofas and chairs brought into the ball-room, which was turned into a dormitory for those who could not be accommodated in the other rooms. Stella wanted to accompany her father, and was with difficulty persuaded to remain. Murray offered to ride back as soon as the gale was over to escort her, and she smiled her consent. The colonel declared that he must go to look after his friends and their cottage, for he had no other excuse to offer. The officers started on horseback, but they could with difficulty sit their steeds or keep their naval cloaks around them as they faced the hurricane. Poor Commander Babbicome had a hard task to perform, as his struggling steed plunged forward in the darkness; and Jack and Adair, who in compassion rode up to his assistance, found him clutching tightly by the animal’s mane, as he shouted out—

“Steady, now—steady, you brute! What is the wind about that it cannot let a man sit his horse in quiet?”

It was no easy matter, however, for the best of horsemen to keep their seats, and in the more exposed situations it seemed as if rider and steed would be blown over together. Leaves, dust, stones, branches of trees, and even heavier objects, came rushing through the air in dense clouds, striking the travellers and obscuring their sight, so that it was often impossible to see where they were going. The colonel seemed to revel in the wild uproar of the elements, and led the way through the darkness, shouting to his companions to follow. They were passing along a part of the road with tall trees on either side. The dark branches above their heads could be seen waving wildly to and fro, the tops bending before the blast. Ever and anon huge boughs were torn off, and several fell, sometimes in front, sometimes directly behind them, but no one had been struck. Then there came a fearful crash. A large tree had fallen directly in front of them. Jack thought that the colonel had been crushed; but no, there he was, sitting his horse as upright as ever. He had had a narrow escape, though.

“On, friends, on,” he shouted. “It is more hazardous to stop than to push forward.”

And he leapt his steed over the trunk. Captain Hemming and Murray followed, their horses scrambling rather than leaping over the impediment. Jack and Adair might have done the same, but they would not desert the commander of the Tudor, by this time well-nigh frightened out of his wits. Several of the rest who made the attempt toppled over with their beasts on their heads.

“Leap, my good fellows? I could no more do it than fly!” exclaimed Commander Babbicome, when he came to the tree.

“You had better climb over, and I’ll bring your horse after you,” said Jack.

“If I get off, I shall never get on again,” cried the commander. “Bless my heart, what shall I do?”

“Better try than run the chance of being crushed here,” said Jack.

At that moment another of the waving trees came crashing down close behind them, cutting off all retreat had it been contemplated. At the sound off tumbled Commander Babbicome; and in another instant, with more agility than he generally displayed, he had scrambled over the trunk, and pitched right in among the men and horses, struggling to get on their legs on the other side. Happily no one was much hurt, and some of his officers having assisted to place him on his feet, he set off running as fast as his legs could carry him. His steed, relieved of its burden, urged by Jack and Terence, got over better than the rest; and when they at length overtook him, they managed to hoist him again into his saddle. Though he cut a somewhat undignified figure on this occasion they had no inclination to laugh at him, for they believed him to be as brave as most men under ordinary circumstances on the deck of his ship. They were both, too, very anxious about Tom and Gerald, and they could only hope that if the drogher had not returned she was safe in some other port. Battered and bruised, though they had escaped any serious accident, the party at length reached the harbour. The officers who had remained behind and all the men to be found had hurried on board the ships directly the hurricane burst; additional hawsers had been got out; the topmasts had been struck, and everything necessary had been done. It was rather provoking to find that they might have remained on at the ball, but satisfactory to feel that all was right, and that they had done their duty. In almost any other harbour in the West Indies the case might have been very different. They, of course, spent the rest of the night on board.

Nothing had been seen of the drogher, and Jack and Adair agreed that should she not appear in two or three days they would get leave to go in search of her. She might have been wrecked on one of the neighbouring islands, and the party on board be unable to obtain the means of returning. By noon the next day the hurricane had ceased, and Murray accompanied Colonel O’Regan to Saint John’s, followed by a servant leading Stella’s horse, and carrying her riding-habit. In every direction the havoc caused by the storm was visible; cottages blown down or unroofed, sugar-canes laid low, fruit-trees upturned or stripped of their fruit; in many places the road was almost impassable; but labourers were at work with saws and axes clearing away the trunks which lay across it. In the evening, when the air was comparatively cool and refreshing, Murray rode back with Stella. The colonel was detained by a person on business just as they were setting off, and begged that they would ride on, saying that he would overtake them. Alick said more than he had ever before ventured to do. Stella turned away her head while he was speaking; then, lifting her eyes to his face with an expression in hers certainly not of annoyance or anger, she answered—

“You have your profession, Mr Murray. You assuredly do not contemplate quitting that, and I am the daughter of one the world calls an adventurer. I cannot desert him while he allows me to bear him company, and I know not in what direction his fate may lead him. Perchance your regard for me may prove but a passing fancy, and you would regret having bound yourself to one whom, after we part on this occasion, you may not meet again for years, when she may be so changed, as everything we see around us changes, that you would not recognise her. I know too well that this has been the case with others—why not with us?”

Her voice trembled as she uttered the last sentences. Murray urged every plea which his honest affection prompted. He had no fears of what she dreaded. He trusted that before long he should obtain his promotion, and then, in these piping times of peace, he might expect to remain for some time on shore, and be able to occupy his Highland home.

“I dare not pledge my troth, but there is no one for whose happiness I can more earnestly pray,” said Stella, looking at him with her bright eyes beaming as the most ardent lover could desire. Will that satisfy you?

“Yes, dearest Stella because I know that you would not trifle with one who has given you a true and faithful heart,” answered Alick. He had never before uttered such words, and the tone of his voice showed the deep feeling which prompted them.

“I believe you,” she said simply.

Alick would rather have had a more demonstrative reply. A rough road strewn with branches, and other impediments to their progress, was not favourable for such a conversation. Still, as Stella had not objected to the terms he had applied to her, he had no reason to complain. They rode on for some time in silence. Stella was the first to break it.

“Mr Murray, you need not feel yourself bound to speak to my father on the subject, indeed I would rather you should not,” she said. “He pays me the compliment of putting full confidence in my discretion, and leaves me to act as I consider right. I suspect that his affection prevents him from believing me otherwise than perfect, and he thinks, consequently, that I am incapable of doing anything of which he would not approve.”

“In my eyes, too, you are perfect, Stella,” said Alick. “That by your own reasoning is the best proof of affection.”

“I do not doubt yours, Mr Murray, I am sure of it, and I am more than grateful,” answered Stella, looking up at him. “Still affection should not blind us to the faults of those we love, as in time the tinsel must wear off our idols, and disappointment, if not a painful reaction, will be the result.”

“But all idols are not tinselled,” said Alick. “The spotless Parian marble—”

“I object altogether to idol worship,” interrupted Stella. “I desire to be loved for myself, I own, but I would be so with all my faults and failings known. Could I be sure of them I would tell them to you, but I cannot boast of having attained to the height of wisdom, and learnt to know myself. I must leave to you the task of discovering them, and the means for their correction; only let me entreat you to believe that they exist, and perhaps are more numerous than you will think possible.”

Of course Alick very sincerely protested that Stella and imperfection could not be named together, except as contrasts, for he truly thought so. She sighed, and then smiled, and the colonel cantering up cut short the interesting conversation—interesting to the two persons concerned, at all events.

“Stella, I find that we must start for Jamaica immediately,” he said. “If Captain Hemming cannot proceed there, we shall be compelled to go by another vessel. A brig now in the harbour, I understand, sails for Port Royal to-morrow; and though I would defer our departure for three days longer, unless either of the men-of-war is to sail by the end of that time, we must not lose the present opportunity.”

“So soon!” ejaculated Stella. She said no more, for she no more thought of inquiring the motive of her father’s actions than of opposing his wishes. Alick watched her countenance. It was graver and more sad than he had ever seen it. Her lip quivered, but with a strong effort she recovered herself, though she did not venture to trust her voice. Alick knew that Captain Hemming would not sail before the return of the drogher with his midshipmen, or should she not appear until he had endeavoured to ascertain their fate. The colonel asked Murray’s opinion. Alick gave it, but advised him to apply to Captain Hemming on the possibility of his sending the Tudor on to Jamaica before the frigate. His heart beat with hope that this might be done, and Stella’s countenance brightened when he spoke of it.

Their friends, the Houghtons, with whom Stella and her father were staying, were much concerned when they heard of his determination.

“But must your daughter accompany you, colonel?” asked Mrs Houghton, a good-natured, motherly dame, whose daughters were all married. “We shall be delighted if Stella will remain with us, and we will find her an escort when the frigate sails; though, for my part, I would not hesitate to send a daughter of mine and a female attendant without one.”

Stella did not express her thanks for this proposal with the warmth which might have been expected. The colonel accompanied Murray to the barracks, where they found the two captains. The colonel stated his wishes. Captain Hemming regretted that he could not sail in time to suit his convenience, but if Miss O’Regan would remain with the Houghtons he should be delighted to give her and her attendant a passage, and any lady who might be able to accompany her. He would, however, consult Commander Babbicome and ascertain whether the Tudor could be got ready for sea in time. Commander Babbicome was mute. When the colonel had gone, he expressed himself somewhat strongly to his superior.

“He had heard reports concerning Colonel O’Regan’s schemes, and he had no wish to commit himself by carrying such a person on board his ship—charming as Miss O’Regan might be considered by some. He did not always go with the herd.”

The captain of the frigate could send the Tudor to sea, but he could not compel her commander to give up his cabin to passengers, so he did not press the point. It would have been better for Commander Babbicome had he been more courteous, but no more than other mortals could he foresee what the future was to bring forth.

Colonel O’Regan went on board the brig Sarah Jane. Though of so unwarlike a name, she was a large rakish craft, evidently very fast, with square yards and taunt masts, well fitted for a blockade-runner or any work of that description; and her skipper, a dark, big-whiskered fellow, looked the man fit to command her. He and the colonel shook hands as if they had before been acquainted, and had a long conversation.

“Under the circumstances, colonel, we’ll clear out for Portobello instead of Port Royal,” he said, laughing; “for as you know we have a roving commission, and we may find a better market for our goods on the Spanish Main than at a British port. I expect to fall in with the sloop to the westward of Saint Kitt’s, when we may get some stores from her and proceed in company.”

The colonel having concluded his arrangements, returned to the cottage. Stella evinced no surprise when he communicated his change of plan.

“Am I to accompany you?” she asked in a faltering voice, while her cheek became paler than usual. At one time she would have entreated to be allowed to go without asking whither.

“As the cabins of the brig are commodious, and the frigate is not likely to sail for some time, I shall be glad of your society,” answered the colonel, not remarking her increasing agitation.

“Should the state of affairs not be more propitious than of late, I intend returning forthwith to Jamaica, where I will leave you with your relatives, the Bradshaws, while I go back once more to await the course of events. You will thus, probably, reach Jamaica sooner than you would have done had you waited for these laggard men-of-war.”

Stella had become calm again while her father uttered the last sentences. She expressed her readiness to do as he wished, and said, truly, that she wished ever to be with him; though she might have added, that she pined for the time when he would be content to abandon his schemes, and settle in some quiet home either in Britain or one of her colonies, as he had at times talked of doing when his restless spirit was for a time quelled by weariness or disappointment.

Kind Mr and Mrs Houghton pressed her to remain with them, and to go on to Jamaica in the frigate. They feared, with good reason, that Stella would be exposed to all sorts of dangers if she accompanied the colonel; they had no confidence in his schemes, and they thought him very wrong in wishing to take her with him, though they did not tell her so.

“I will assist you, my dear, to get over one of your difficulties, for I dare say you do not think it quite the thing to be alone on board the frigate without a chaperone,” exclaimed Mrs Houghton, coming into Stella’s room. “I have long promised to pay a visit to my daughter Julia and her husband, whose estate is next to the Bradshaws, and I intend to ask Captain Hemming to give me a passage. What do you say, Stella? Your father cannot object to my plan—it is so evidently the right one. Shall I tell him that you agree to it?”

It was a severe trial for Stella, but she was resolute in doing what she believed to be her duty. She thanked Mrs Houghton warmly for her kindness. She was, however, under orders. As a soldier’s daughter she had learnt obedience. Unless her father commanded her to remain at Antigua, she must embark in the brig. What effect the arguments of Alick Murray might have produced, it is impossible to say. He, unfortunately, was detained by duty on board the corvette, and did not reach the cottage till late in the evening, not aware of Colonel O’Regan’s altered plans. He was thunderstruck when he heard of them, and very much inclined to quarrel with the colonel, who did not seem to be aware that he was inducing his daughter to make any unusual sacrifice.

Thanks to Mrs Houghton’s management, Alick and Stella were alone for a short time. She did not disguise from him how much the parting cost her, but entreated him to keep up his spirits in the hope that they might soon again meet in Jamaica. Alick, with Rogers and Adair, accompanied Stella and the colonel on board the brig the next morning. The two latter knew that they were not intruding on their friend. They warmly entered into his feelings, though they might have doubted that Stella’s affection for him was as deep as he supposed, especially when they observed her tearless eye and calm manner when she parted from him. Their boat remained alongside till the brig was well out of the harbour. As long as any one could be discerned on board, a figure was seen standing at the stern watching them as they pulled back. Alick did not speak. All seemed a dream to him; but yesterday, he thought himself the happiest of mortals. Now Stella was gone, and to what fearful dangers might she not be exposed! Rogers and Adair wished to divert his thoughts, and began to talk of the missing midshipmen. “The captain gives them three days more, and if the drogher does not appear at the end of that time, he intends to send the Tudor to look for them,” said Jack. “I regret allowing Tom to go, for when a number of youngsters are together they are sure to get into mischief.”

“We found it so occasionally in our younger days to be sure,” observed Adair. “I, too, am sorry I let Gerald go; however, Higson is a steady fellow, and I hope has taken good care of them.”

“When Houghton heard that we were becoming anxious about the youngsters, he offered to send his schooner, the Swordfish, to look for them,” observed Murray, rousing himself up. “If I can get leave from Babbicome, and I am sure he will give it to escape having to take the Tudor to sea, I will go in the schooner. She is far better fitted for cruising among the islands than the corvette, and will be more likely to find the drogher.”

“A good idea of yours, Alick, and I will go with you, as I am sure to get leave,” said Jack.

Adair wished that he could go also, but he and Rogers could not be away from the ship together for any length of time. Jack and Terence, like true friends, stuck close to Alick for the remainder of the day, doing their utmost to keep him from brooding over his unhappiness. His feelings, they knew, were too deep to allow them to banter him, as they would probably have done under ordinary circumstances.

Chapter Eight.

Cruise in the schooner in search of the missing midshipmen—Call at Saba and find Higson—Discover the wreck of the drogher deserted—Return unsuccessful—The midshipmen mourned as lost—The frigate and corvette sail for Jamaica—A boy overboard—A hurricane at sea—The corvette dismasted—Man lost—Dangerous position of corvette—The frigate prepared weathers the hurricane—Anxiety about the corvette—The frigate’s search for her.

The next day and the next passed—the drogher did not appear, and the two captains became as anxious as were the three lieutenants to ascertain the fate of their midshipmen.

“If you wish to go I will spare you for a few days,” said Captain Hemming to Adair.

Accordingly all three sailed in the Swordfish. Having ascertained that the midshipmen intended visiting Barbuda, they first steered for that island. There was a good stiff breeze, and as the Swordfish was a fast craft, she rapidly ran over the thirty miles of water which intervenes between Antigua and its small dependency. It was not, however, all plain sailing, as numerous shoals, reefs, and rocks surround the island mostly below the surface, some only showing their black pates, while from its slight elevation above the ocean at the distance of less than four miles it was scarcely visible. A negro standing on the bowsprit end, and holding on by the stay, piloted the schooner, giving his directions to the man at the helm in a sharp, loud voice—

“Lub ou may—all ou can! steady! starboard. Keep her away! steady! lub, lub, lub, for ou life!” he screamed out, waving his hand to enforce his orders. The schooner just scraped clear of a rock, round which the water hissed and bubbled, and the pilot once more subsided into his ordinary calmness.

“Not a pleasant spot to find under one’s lee in a gale of wind on a dark night,” observed Terence. “It proves, however, that the crew of the drogher must have been sober, or they could not have found their way clear of it.”

The schooner at length came to an anchor, and a messenger was sent off to the overseer, who kindly came down at once and told them that he had seen the drogher outside the reefs, and standing to the westward. He pressed them to remain and partake of such hospitality as he could offer; but eager to pursue their search they declined his invitation, and the schooner was quickly again threading her way amid the shoals out to sea. It was a question whether the drogher had continued her course due west, or had steered northward to Saint Barts, or southward to Saint Eustatia, or Saint Kitts. They finally decided after examining the chart, to stand to the westward, and call off Saba. As they approached the island a fishing-boat was seen standing out towards the schooner, which was therefore hove to, to let her come alongside.

“I see Higson, and some of the others, but all I fear are not there,” said Jack, who had been watching the boat through his glass, in a tone which showed his anxiety. Higson was soon on board. He gave a full account of what had happened.

“I would sooner have lost my own life than allowed any harm to happen to the youngsters,” he added. “Still I have hopes that they may have escaped. Needham is a prime seaman, and he will have done what was possible to keep the drogher afloat, though they were sadly short-handed, I own. Still if the craft has not foundered, as they had plenty of provisions and water aboard we may expect to see them again, not the worse for their cruise. We have all been on the look-out, hoping to see her beating up to the island. You’ll not blame me, Mr Rogers, more than I deserve, and I couldn’t help it, you may depend on that.”

The old mate as he spoke well-nigh burst into tears. Jack and the other lieutenants assured him that they did not see how he could be blamed, and they then set to work to consider what was best to be done. They first compared notes, and agreed as to the course of the hurricane, and calculated the direction in which the drogher must have been driven, and the distance she had probably gone, recollecting that as she had been carried with the wind she must have been exposed to its fury for a much longer time than those on shore.

“If it had not been for that they ought to have made their way back long before this,” observed Jack.

“Perhaps they have gone to Saint Eustatia or Saint Kitts,” remarked Murray.

“I am very sure, sir, that for our sakes they would have done their best to make Saba,” said Higson. “If they could have helped it they would not have deserted us.”

Jack, as senior officer, had to decide, and he determined, therefore, to steer to the south-west for a couple of days, keeping a bright look-out on either hand, and then to beat back to Antigua, thus going over a wide extent of sea. It would occupy them a week or more, but Captain Hemming they knew would not object to the delay. Captain Quasho and his crew as a punishment were left to find their way back as best they could, and the schooner stood away in the direction proposed. During the day Higson or one of the midshipmen was at the masthead, keeping a look-out on every side. At night sail was shortened, and the schooner stood backwards and forwards, now to the northward, now to the southward, so that no risk might be run of passing the drogher in the dark. Three or four vessels were fallen in with, but the same answer was received from all. They had seen nothing of the missing craft. Under other circumstances they would have been very jolly, for they had a good supply of West Indian delicacies, put on board by the owner of the vessel, and had nothing to do but to eat and smoke when they felt inclined; but they were much too anxious to enjoy themselves.

For another whole day they stood on. Still not a sign of the drogher. Jack felt greatly inclined to continue the search for a third day. He reflected, however, on the risk of doing so. It would take very much longer beating back, and should light winds prevail they might run short of water and provisions; and though he was ready to undergo any dangers himself, with the prospect of recovering his brother, he had no right, he felt, to expose others to them. There was also the possibility of having to encounter another hurricane, which might try the schooner, capital sea-boat as she appeared to be. The weather had again become threatening—dark clouds collected overhead—the wind fell, and as the little vessel lay roiling her sides under the glass, like swell, down came the rain, not a mere sprinkling, like that of northern latitudes, but in a perfect deluge, the huge drops leaping up as they fell, and flooding the deck. Those who could took refuge below; the rest were wet to the skin before they could get on their great coats. Just before sunset a breeze sprang up, and the clouds clearing away left the horizon more defined and distinct even than usual. Jack himself went aloft to take a look round, and consider whether he should haul up at once, and commence the long beat to Antigua, or stand on for a few hours longer. He had already swept his glass round on every side when, as he turned it once more towards the south-west, just clear of the setting sun, his eye fell on a dark object almost on the very verge of the horizon. It seemed a mere speck, though it might, he thought, be a dead whale, or a piece of wreck, or only a mass of floating seaweed. His directions to the man at the helm to steer for it called all hands on deck, and several came aloft—various opinions were expressed. Old Higson was positive that it was part of a wreck of some unfortunate vessel lost in the late hurricane, or the whole hull of a small craft dismasted. The breeze freshened, and hopes were entertained that they might get up to it before darkness settled down over the deep. It could soon be seen from the deck.

“I knew that I was right, and I wish from my soul I wasn’t,” exclaimed Higson, as he looked steadily through his glass. “That’s a small craft on her beam ends, and it’s my belief that she’s the Snapper!”

“I trust not,” said Rogers, who overheard him. “If she is the Snapper, what has become of the poor youngsters?”

“Perhaps they are still clinging to her, sir,” answered Higson. “I have known men hold out on board a craft in as bad a position as she is in.”

“But they are boys, and must have succumbed to hunger and thirst, even if they escaped being washed overboard when the craft capsized,” observed Murray, who was not inclined just then to take a hopeful view of matters.

“I’d trust to my nephew holding out as long as any youngster ever did,” said Adair. “The others have not less pluck in them.”

“I see no signal, and as they must have made us out long ago if they were aboard I fear they are gone,” sighed Jack.

“Faith, it’s likely enough they have nothing to make one with,” observed Adair. “I’ll not believe they are lost.”

Every glass on board was continually kept turned towards the object ahead. As the schooner approached, however, no one could be discovered on board. It was nearly dark by the time she got up with it. Several voices on board the schooner hailed, but no reply came. She hove to, and a boat was lowered. Jack, Terence, and Higson jumped into her.

“Hand a lantern here,” cried Higson, as they were shoving off. They were quickly alongside the hapless craft. It was then seen that she had been capsized with her sails set, which, with the mast and rigging, assisted to keep her in her present position. Probably also her ballast having shifted contributed to do so, as she was only partially filled with water. Not a human being, however, was visible. Higson, seizing the lantern, leaped on board, and climbed up to the companion hatch. Jack and Adair were about to follow, but they, observing that even his weight made the water flow over the bulwarks, saw that it would be more prudent to let him search alone. They waited for him anxiously. He quickly put his head up the hatchway.

“She’s the Snapper—no doubt about that; but there’s not a soul aft,” he exclaimed. “At all events, however, they were not starved, for there are plenty of provisions in the locker.”

Having let himself down into the hold, holding on to the coaming with one hand, he stretched out the other with the lantern, so as to let its light fall on every side. No one was there. He then made his way into the fore-peak. It seemed to Jack that he was a long time absent, though in reality scarcely a minute passed before he scrambled out again.

“What has become of the youngsters I can’t say, but on board this craft they are not; nor is their monkey Spider, who with his long tail to hold on by was not likely to be washed overboard,” he exclaimed, as he sprang back into the boat. “The sooner we shove off the better, for she is filling fast, and may go to the bottom at any moment.”

“I can’t bear to leave her though without having a look round,” said Jack, taking the lantern from Higson.

He made his way into the little cabin, and was soon convinced that Higson was right. Not a trace of the midshipmen could he see. He searched the hold and the fore-peak. They were not there, dead or alive. Jack came back to the boat and sat down, feeling very sorrowful.

“Let me go in again,” said the old mate, as he took the lantern.

He was back very soon with three small carpet-bags in his hand.

“Be sharp,” cried Adair. “She is going down!”

He spoke truly. Higson made a leap into the boat, which shoved off just as the drogher, giving a slight roll, sank from sight. The crew pulled away from her.

“I could only find my own and two other fellows’ bags,” said Higson. “The others must have slipped down into the water.”

The boat at once returned to the schooner with the sad intelligence. Norris and the master’s-assistant were very glad to get back their carpet-bags. Their recovery, it is possible, somewhat consoled them for the loss of their young messmates. They, at all events, congratulated themselves that they had not been on board the drogher when she was blown away from Saba.

Jack, who loved his brother dearly, was very much grieved at his loss; so was Terence for Gerald, though he thought most of the sorrow his sister would suffer when she heard of her boy’s death.

“Arrah now; I wish that I’d let him stay at home and turn farmer; but then, to be sure, he might have been after breaking his neck out hunting, so it comes to the same thing in the end,” he exclaimed, with as near an approach to a sigh as he ever uttered. “Och, ahone, poor Nora, the sweet cratur! and I not able to bring her back the boy.”

Murray was less demonstrative, but he knew that young Archy would be truly mourned for in his distant highland home.

The schooner now commenced her long beat back to Antigua. There was every prospect of its being a tedious business; but there was a fresh breeze, and by carrying on, though the top-masts bent like willow-wands, English Harbour was gained at length. Captain Hemming felt the loss of his midshipmen; but when the matter was explained to him, he acquitted old Higson of all blame.

“Only I will never, as long as I command a ship, allow my midshipmen to go away for their amusement by themselves,” he observed. “They run risks enough as it is in the course of duty.”

This being reported in the berth made Norris and others very angry, and they were much inclined to abuse poor Tom and Gerald for getting drowned, and thus being the cause of the restriction likely to be placed on their liberty.

The two ships were now ready for sea. Murray went to pay a farewell visit to the Houghtons. Kind Mrs Houghton—who, for Stella’s sake as well as his own, took a warm interest in him, for she having keener eyes than the colonel, knew perfectly well that they were engaged—had letters of introduction ready to her daughter Mrs Raven, to the Bradshaws, Stella’s relatives, and to other friends.

“You’ll receive a hearty welcome, and I have just hinted how matters stand. They agree with us that the colonel has no right to be dragging his daughter about in the way he does, and will be thankful to see her placed under the guardianship of one who will take better care of her than, in my humble opinion, her father does.”

Alick was duly grateful, and said all that was proper, though he wished that his friend had not mentioned the matter she alluded to, as he felt somewhat nervous at the thought of appearing before strangers in the character of a melancholy lover.

“However, if there are any young ladies among them, they’ll not expect me to pay them attentions,” he thought.

The frigate and corvette were at sea, with the prospect of a quick run to Port Royal. During his quiet night-watches Alick’s thoughts were ever occupied with Stella. Hitherto the weather since she sailed had been unusually fine, and she might, he hoped, have escaped the dangers of the sea; but there were others to which she was too likely to be exposed on board a vessel engaged, as he understood the brig was, in landing arms and ammunition, and in running contraband goods. The colonel himself, Murray fully believed, had nothing to do with such proceedings; but he would, notwithstanding, be placed in a dangerous position should the vessel be captured while so employed, and then to what a fearful risk might not Stella be exposed. He shuddered at the thought. Again and again it occurred to him. The two ships had got to the southward of Saint Domingo.

In those piping times of peace there was very little excitement at sea—no enemy to be encountered, no vessels to be chased, except perhaps a slaver from the coast of Africa. There had, however, been a steady breeze, all sail being carried, and the officers were congratulating themselves on making a quick passage, when about noon it suddenly fell calm. The sun struck down from the cloudless sky with intense heat, making the pitch in the seams of the deck bubble up and run over the white planks, while every particle of iron or brass felt as hot as if just come out of a furnace. The chips from the carpenter’s bench floated alongside, and the slush from the cook’s pots scarcely mingled with the clear water, till a huge mouth rising to the surface swallowed the mass down with a gulp, creating a ripple which extended far away from the ship’s side. The atmosphere was sultry and oppressive in the extreme, for air there was none. It was a question whether it was hotter on deck in the shade or below. In the sun there was not much doubt about the matter. The sails hung motionless against the masts; even the dog-vanes refused to move. The smoke ascending from the galley fire rose in a thin column, till, gradually spreading out, it hung like a canopy above the ship. The men moved sluggishly about their duties, with no elasticity in their steps; and even Jack and Adair, the briskest of the brisk, felt scarcely able to drag their feet after them. The ocean was like a sheet of burnished silver, so dazzling that it pained the eye to gaze at it. Ever and anon its polished surface would be broken by a covey of flying-fish rising into the air in a vain effort to escape some hungry foe. A nautilus, or Portuguese-man-of-war, would glide by, proving that the wind had nothing to do with its movement; or the dark, triangular fin of a shark might be seen, as the monster, with savage eye, moved slowly round the ship, watching for anything hove overboard.

Woe betide the careless seaman who might lose his balance aloft, and drop within reach of the creature’s jaws. In spite of the heat several of the ship’s boys, rather than remain stewing below or roasting on deck, were sky-larking in the fore-rigging, chasing each other into the top or up to the cross-trees and along the yards, now swarming up by a lift, now sliding down a stay. The most active of the boys, and generally their leader, though one of the smallest, was Jerry Nott. He had been over the mast-head several times, keeping well before the rest, when he made his way out to the end of the starboard fore-yard-arm. At that moment Mr Scrofton, the boatswain, coming on deck, and reflecting probably that having been deprived of their tails, they were not as fit as their ancestral monkeys to amuse themselves as they were doing, and might come to grief, called the youngsters down. Jerry, startled by the boatswain’s voice, cast his eye on deck, instead of fixing it on the topping-lift. A small body was seen falling, and a splash was heard.

“Man overboard!” shouted numerous voices.

“Lower the starboard quarter boat!” cried Jack Rogers, who was officer of the watch, and having given the order he rushed forward and had sprung into the main-chains, intending to jump overboard and support the boy till the boat could pick them up; when he saw the youngster throw up his arms—a piercing shriek rent the air. That bright face a moment before turned towards him had disappeared, a ruddy circle marking the spot where it had been. With difficulty he restrained the impulse which had prompted him to leap into the water, to which had he given way, he knew that he would probably have shared the fate of the poor boy. The boat, notwithstanding, was lowered, and the men rowed round and round the spot hoping to get a blow at their foe with the boat-hook and an axe with which one of them had armed himself; but neither the shark nor his hapless victim again appeared. The only thing which came to the surface was Jerry’s straw hat—crushed and blood-stained.

The heat increased—the sun itself seemed to grow larger—the sky became of a metallic tint, the sea lost its silvery brilliancy, and gradually assumed the hue of molten lead. The captain, having several times examined his barometer, came on deck. “All hands, shorten sail!” he shouted out, and while the boatswain was turning up the crew he ordered a signal to be made to the corvette to follow his example.

The topmen swarmed on the yards, the idlers were at their stations.

“Be smart about it, lads!” he shouted. In a few minutes every sail was furled, with the exception of a closely-reefed fore-topsail, braced sharp up. Royal and top-gallant yards were sent down, and the masts struck.

The captain made another signal to the corvette to hasten her proceedings, but her commander showed but little disposition to do so.

“What’s Hemming making such a fuss about?” he was reported to have said. “Why, the sea is as smooth as a mill-pond, and if a strong breeze does spring up on a sudden, which I have my doubts about, we shall have plenty of time to trim sails I should think. I ought to know how to take care of my own ship, and don’t require to be dictated to by a young fellow who wore long clothes when I was a lieutenant.”

Captain Hemming, in the meantime, as he walked the deck of the frigate, ever and anon cast a vexed glance at the corvette.

“Babbicome will be having his sticks about his ears if he does not look sharp,” he muttered. “Obstinate old donkey, were it not for those with him I should be glad to see him receive the lesson he’ll get to a certainty.”

Still, not a breath of air stirred the dog-vanes—the ocean remained as glass-like as before, but thick clouds appeared in the north, and in a short time rain began to fall. It soon ceased, and a stillness like death succeeded the pattering sound of the falling drops. On a sudden the dark clouds seen before in the distance covered the sky, except in the zenith, where an obscure circle of imperfect light was visible, while a dismal darkness gathered round the ships. The midshipmen of the frigate, and several others, had begun to think the captain over-cautious.

“One would suppose that he had changed places with old Babbicome,” observed Norris. “See, they are letting all stand on board the corvette.”

“No; they are not, though. See! there’s hands aloft, shorten sail!” exclaimed Higson. “Good reason, too—they must be smart about it. Look there!” He pointed to the north-east, where a long, white line was seen sweeping on towards the ship, and rapidly increasing in height and thickness, while a roar like that of distant thunder was heard—yet more shrill than thunder—the sound every instant becoming louder and shriller, till it seemed like that of countless voices screaming at their highest pitch. On came the breath of the mighty hurricane, not seen except by its effect on the ocean, which now began to leap and foam, rising into huge rolling billows, sweeping along in threatening array; the foam which flew from them forming one vast sheet covering the ocean, while vivid lightning bursting from the clouds flashed in all directions with dazzling brilliancy. The furious wind struck the frigate on her broadside. In a moment over she heeled, and the close-reefed fore-topsail, blown out of the bolt-ropes, fluttered wildly in shreds, which speedily lashed and twisted themselves round the yard. The helm was put up. After a struggle the frigate answered to it, and off she flew before the wind, passing close under the stern of the corvette, which lay with her masts gone, on her beam-ends, the sheets of foam sweeping over her, almost concealing her from sight. The crew of the corvette had been swarming aloft, and some had already laid out on the yards when the hurricane struck her. Over she heeled—the tall masts bending like willow-wands. The sheets were let fly, but it was too late. The men called down by the officers endeavoured to spring back into the tops, and those who could descended on deck, but many had no time to escape. In one instant, it seemed, the three masts, with a fearful crash, went by the board, carrying all on them into the seething ocean; and the lately trim corvette lay a helpless meek, exposed to the fury of the raging—which dashed with relentless fury over her. Efforts were made by those on deck to rescue their drowning shipmates, whose piercing shrieks for help rose even above the loud uproar of the tempest, whose shrill voice seemed to mock their cries. Some few were hauled on board, but many were swept away before aid could be rendered to them. The masts, also, were thundering with terrific force against the side, threatening every moment to stave in the stout planks, and to send the ship and all on board to the bottom. To clear the wreck was the first imperative work to be performed. Murray, followed by a party of men armed with axes, sprang into the main-chains to cut away the main rigging, while other officers were similarly engaged on that of the fore and mizen masts. He saw at that instant the captain of the maintop, a fine young seaman, who was at his station when the mast went, still clinging to it. A cask with a line was hove into the sea, in the hopes that it might reach him, but this the mass of spars and sails rendered impossible. Murray shouted to him to try and make his way along the mast.

“No, no!” he answered in return, knowing that he would be washed off should he venture on the attempt. “Cut—cut!”

The reiterated blows of the butt-ends of the masts allowed of no alternative. The bright axes gleamed while the seamen rapidly cut the ropes. As the last shroud was severed the gallant topman waved his hand a farewell to his shipmates, and a faint cheer reached their ears as the tangled mass of spars, rigging, and sails, floated away clear of the ship. They had already, however, committed fearful damage. The carpenter sounded the well; he reported six feet of water. The pumps were rigged, and the hands set to work to try and overcome the leak, while he and his mates went below to ascertain the locality of the injury the ship had received. Meantime the hatches were battened down to prevent the water from the seas, which broke on board, increasing the mischief.

Before long the carpenter returned, his countenance showing the anxiety he vainly endeavoured to conceal.

“There are more leaks than one, sir, through which the water is rushing in like a mill-sluice; and it’s more than man can do to stop them from within-board,” he said, coming aft to the commander. “You’ll pardon me, sir, but it’s my duty to say that unless we heave the guns overboard, with everything else to lighten the ship, and can get a thrummed sail under her bottom, she’ll founder before the world is many minutes older.”

“Very well, Mr Auger, I’ll consider what you say,” answered Commander Babbicome; who, though obstinate and irritable under ordinary circumstances, was cool enough in moments of danger. Murray, who had been below, confirmed the carpenter’s report. The boatswain was ordered to get a sail up and prepare it as proposed, while the drummer beat to quarters. Gladly would the crew have mustered had it been to meet an enemy, but it was to perform a task the most painful of all to a man-of-war’s man, and one of no small danger.

“Heave the guns overboard!” shouted the commander. “Watch the right time now.”

As the dismasted ship rolled in the foaming seas raging around her, first the guns on one side were allowed to slip through the ports, then those on the other went plunging into the deep. The anchors were next cut away from the bows, and now the attempt was made to get the thrummed sail under the ship’s bottom. It seemed well-nigh hopeless, with the ship rolling and the heavy seas breaking over her. Murray and the other officers laboured as hard as any one, setting an example, by their energy and courage, to the men dispirited by the loss of so many of their shipmates. Two hawsers were at length got under the ship’s bottom, when the sail filled with oakum was hauled over the part where the worst leaks were supposed to exist. Still the water rushed in. The efforts of the hands at the pumps were redoubled, and anxious eyes were turned towards the frigate, which could still be dimly seen to leeward, but too far off to render them any assistance should the sea overcome all their efforts, and carry the ship to the bottom. That this would be her fate before long seemed too probable; the bulwarks in many places had been crushed in—the boats stove or carried away, scarcely a spare spar remained—everything on deck had been swept off it; indeed, it seemed a wonder that she should still be afloat.

A short jury-mast was got up, fixed to the stump of the fore-mast, and a spare royal was bent to a yard and hoisted in the hopes of getting the ship before the wind; but scarcely had the sail been sheeted home, before it had produced the slightest effect, than away went the canvas, mast, and spar to leeward. A second attempt to set a sail was made with similar want of success, and now not an available spar remained on which another could be hoisted.

“Spell, ho!” was cried more frequently than at first, as the exhausted hands at the pumps summoned their shipmates to relieve them, when they staggered to the stumps of the masts or the remaining stanchions and bulwarks, to which they clung to save themselves from being borne away by the wild surges as they broke on board. Thus the disastrous day wore on, to be followed by a still more fearful night. Even the most hopeful had no expectation of seeing another sunrise, as the increasing darkness told them that it had sunk into the storm-tossed ocean.

Alick Murray had endeavoured to maintain that calmness of mind, one of the characteristics for which he was noted. Thought, however, was busy. He, like the rest, believed that ere long the fierce waves would sweep over the foundering ship, and his life, with the lives of all on board, would be brought to a close; for who could hope to escape with not a boat remaining uninjured, and scarcely a spar to afford support? One thought, however, afforded him consolation; the brig, with his beloved Stella on board, had long ere this got well to the southward of the latitude the hurricane was likely to reach, and she, at all events, would escape its fury. Earnestly he prayed that she might be protected from the many dangers she might have to encounter, and though he knew she would mourn his loss, that she might find comfort and he restored in time to happiness.

The rage of the hurricane was unabated—a dreadful darkness settled down over the deep; the only objects to be seen beyond the deck of the labouring ship being the black mountainous seas, crested with hissing foam, which rose up on either beam, threatening every instant to overwhelm her.

In the meantime the frigate, well prepared as she had been to encounter the first onslaught of the hurricane, flew before it unharmed. As she passed the corvette, Captain Hemming, seeing her perilous condition, hailed, promising to heave-to if possible, and lay by her, but the wild uproar of the elements drowned his voice. To bring the ship to the wind under the full force of the hurricane was, indeed, a difficult and dangerous operation, which only the urgent necessity of the case rendered allowable. The captain of the Plantagenet was not the man to desert a consort in distress, and notwithstanding the risk to be run he determined to make the attempt. Still some time elapsed before the trysails could be set, and during it the frigate had run considerably to leeward of the corvette. The ports were closed, the hatches secured, preventer stays set up; every device, indeed, which good seamanship could suggest, was adopted to provide for the safety of the ship. The boats were secured by additional lashings, as was everything that could be washed away on deck. Relieving tackles were also rove, and four of the best hands were sent to the helm. The crew were at their stations, ready to carry out the intended operation. All was ready, but it was necessary to wait for an opportunity to avoid the fury of the mountain foam-crested billows, rolling in quick succession across the ocean, one of which, striking her bows as she came up to the wind, would have treated the proud frigate with little less ceremony than they would a mere cock-boat. Even during the fiercest gale there are spots on the surface of the sea which are less agitated than elsewhere, while at times there comes a lull of the wind, often the precursor, however, of a more furious blast. For such a lull the captain waited. It came.

“Helm’s a lee!” he shouted.

With a mighty struggle the frigate came to the wind, the main and mizen trysails were sheeted home, the fore-topsail was braced sharp up. Every one looked with anxiety towards the next huge sea which came roaring towards the frigate, to observe how she would behave. Most gallantly she breasted it, though its hissing crest burst over the bulwarks, and came rushing furiously aft along the deck, but the lee ports being opened, the water made its way out again, without committing any serious damage. To bring the ship to the wind and heave-to was one thing, to beat her up to her hapless consort was another, and that it was found impossible to do without the certainty of meeting with serious disaster. In the attempt she would probably have missed stays, and making a stern board would have gone down into the yawning gulf which the next passing sea would have left. As it was, though she rose buoyantly over most of the seas, ever and anon the summit of one broke on board, and all hands had to hold on fast to save themselves from being carried into the lee-scuppers, or washed overboard, while at the same time it was evident that she must be making very considerable leeway, and thus be drifting farther and farther from her consort. Jack and Adair could not help feeling very anxious about the corvette, for the sake, of course, of all on board, but more especially on account of Murray. They had last seen her through a dense mass of spray, with her masts gone, and many of her crew struggling in the waves, while the savage seas were breaking completely over her. Commander Babbicome was very naturally not spoken of, either by them or any one else, in the most complimentary manner.

“His stupid obstinacy has got his ship into this mess, and, as far as he is concerned, he richly deserves it,” observed Jack, trying to catch a glimpse through his glass of the wreck, as she rose, in the far distance, on the summit of a billow, quickly again to disappear. “It’s a sad fate for those poor fellows who have lost their lives, and I am very much afraid that they will not be the only ones. It’s a question whether the corvette will weather out the hurricane.”

“I am very much afraid that she will not,” said Adair. “If there was a prospect of a boat living I would volunteer to board her, and try and save some of the people.”

“The best-manned boat wouldn’t live a minute in such a sea as this, so there’s no use thinking about it,” answered Jack. “I have tried to persuade myself that it might be possible, but I know it is not. All we can hope is that should she go down, poor Alick may manage to get hold of a plank or spar, or into one of the boats, and that when the gale moderates we may pick him up. There is but a poor chance of that, I own.”

“I’ll hope that the corvette won’t go down,” said Adair. “She is a new ship, and, unless abominably managed, she ought to weather out the hurricane.”

“She ought to have been put before the wind by this time, and have followed us; and see, she has not altered her position since she was dismasted,” said Jack, with a sigh. “Poor Alick!”

“Poor Alick! and poor Stella,” echoed Adair.

Night came on. Few of the watch below—officers or men—turned in, for every one knew that at any moment all hands might be piped on deck to save ship.

The hurricane continued to rage with unabated fury. Hour after hour went by without a sign of its ceasing. The vivid lightning darted around; the whole upper regions of the sky being illuminated by incessant flashes, while darts of electric fire exploded with surpassing brilliancy in every direction, threatening each instant the destruction of the ship. Jack and Terence were standing together, holding on to a stanchion, when the latter gave a loud cry, and some heavy object fell at their feet.

“Hillo! what’s that?” exclaimed Paddy, as he put up his hand to his cap. “Faith, I thought a round shot had taken my head off. Catch it, Jack, or it will be away.”

“What, your head, Terence?” asked Jack, unable to restrain a joke even then.

“No, but that big bird there; see it’s scuttling away along the deck.”

Jack sprang forward and caught the bird, which proved to be a large sea-fowl, but he had not the heart to injure it. Presently another dropped on the deck near them, and in a short time a flash of lightning, spreading a bright glare around, showed that the launch and booms, and all the more sheltered spots, were tenanted by sea-birds, which, unable to breast the storm, could find no other resting-place for their weary wings. Some unfortunate ones were caught and carried captives below, but the men generally showed compassion to the strangers, and allowed them to enjoy such shelter as they could find undisturbed.

“Well, I do hope that the hurricane is at its height,” observed Jack, as six bells in the middle watch were struck. “I doubt if the canvas will stand much more.”

“If it isn’t it will be after blowing the ship herself clean out of the water,” answered Adair. “We ought to be thankful that our sticks are sound, and the rigging well set up.”

“Yes; Cherry deserves full credit, and we should give old Scrofton his due, for, though his theories are nonsensical, he is an excellent boatswain,” observed Jack. “I am convinced that every accident on board a ship occurs from the carelessness, and often from the culpable neglect, of some one concerned in fitting her out, or from bad seamanship.”

While they were speaking there came a sudden lull of the wind, and the lightning ceased, leaving the ship enveloped in a blackness which could be felt. The two lieutenants, though close together, could not even distinguish the outlines of each other’s figures.

“This is awful,” exclaimed Adair.

Jack felt that it was so, but said nothing. Suddenly the whole heavens appeared ablaze with fiery meteors, which fell in showers on every side.

“Look look! mercy—what can that be?” cried Adair.

A mass of fire, of a globular form and deep red hue, appeared high up in the sky, when downward it fell, perpendicularly, not a cable’s length from the ship, it seemed, assuming an elongated shape of dazzling whiteness ere it plunged, hissing, into the ocean.

“We may be thankful that ball did not strike us,” observed Jack. “It would have sent us to the bottom more certainly than Fulton’s torpedo, or any similar invention, could have done.”

“I hope that there are no others like it ready to fall on us,” said Terence.

Scarcely a minute had elapsed when the wind fell almost to a calm, its strength being scarcely sufficient to steady the ship. At the same moment the heavens seemed to open and shower down fire, so numberless and rapid were the flashes of the most vivid lightning which played between the clouds and ocean, filling the whole atmosphere with their brilliancy. The captain had put his hand to his mouth to order more sail to be set, when again the hurricane burst forth with renewed fury, howling and shrieking, as Terence declared, like ten legions of demons in the rigging, while the mountain seas, as they clashed with each other, created a roar which almost overpowered the yelling voice of the hurricane. For nearly an hour the hideous uproar continued, until, as if wearied by its last mighty effort, the storm began evidently to abate, although the darkness was even denser than before, while the seas continued tumbling and rolling in so confused a manner that any attempt to steer the ship, so as to avoid them, would have been impossible. Daylight was looked for with anxiety by all on board, to ascertain the fate of the corvette, the captain eagerly waiting for the moment when he could venture to make sail, that he might stand towards her. Just as the cold grey dawn broke over the leaden-tinted, still tumbling ocean, the wind shifted to the southward. The light increased. The eyes of all on deck were turned towards the spot where it was supposed the corvette would be seen. In vain they looked. She was nowhere visible. A groan of disappointment escaped their breasts. Jack and Adair hurried aloft with their glasses, still in the hopes of discovering her. They swept the whole horizon to the northward from east to west, and every intermediate space, but not a speck on the troubled waters could they discover which might prove to be the hull of the corvette. “Poor Alick! poor Alick!” they both again ejaculated, and descended with sad hearts on deck.

The captain now gave the order to make sail, and under her topsails and courses the frigate began to force her way amid the still rolling billows to the northward. Mr Cherry, and several of the other officers, were speaking of the loss of the corvette as a certainty. Jack, who could not bear the thought that Murray was indeed gone, declared that he still had some hopes of finding her above water.

“I agree with Rogers,” said the captain, joining them. “We have made scarcely sufficient allowance for the distance the frigate has drifted during the hurricane. Though I allow that the corvette will have had a hard struggle for it, and that it is too probable she has foundered; yet, as I think that there is a possibility of her being still afloat, I intend to pass over every part of the sea to which she can have been driven, or any boats or rafts escaping from her can have reached.”

The remarks made by the captain considerably raised the spirits of Jack and Terence. A look-out was sent to the masthead, and they themselves frequently went aloft with their telescopes, in the hopes of catching sight of the missing ship. As the day advanced the light increased, and the wind gradually fell to a moderate breeze. The captain and Mr Cherry, having been on deck during the whole night, had turned in, as had all who could do so. Jack had charge of the watch, and Terence remained with him.

“A lump of something floating away on the starboard bow,” cried the look-out from aloft.

Jack kept the ship towards it. In a short time the object seen was discovered to be a tangled mass of spars and rigging, evidently belonging to the corvette. As the frigate passed close to it the figure of a seaman was perceived in its midst floating, partly in the water and partly supported by a spar, with his face turned upwards, as if gazing at her. Several on board shouted, but no voice replied, no sign was made. Jack, notwithstanding, was about to shorten sail and heave the ship to, that a boat might be lowered to rescue the man, when the corpse—for such it was—turned slowly round and disappeared beneath the waves.

“There goes poor Bill Dawson. He was captain of the main-top aboard the Tudor,” observed one of the men. “I knowed him well, and a better fellow never stepped!”

Jack’s heart sank as he saw the wreck of the corvette’s masts.

“Surely they could not have floated to any distance from her, and as she is not in sight she must have gone down,” he thought.

The sea was still too rough to attempt taking any of the spars on board, so the frigate stood on as the captain had directed. Ten minutes or more passed by, when again the look-out hailed the deck in a cheery voice,—“A sail on the port bow!”

The announcement raised the spirits of every one. Terence hurried aloft, and a midshipman was sent to call the captain, who quickly appeared.

“I thought so,” he exclaimed. “Depend on it, that is the Tudor.”

Some time passed before Terence returned on deck. His report confirmed the captain’s opinion. He could clearly make out the hull with a small sail set forward. The last reef was shaken out of the topsails, the starboard studding-sails were set, and the frigate dashed after the corvette. The news spread below, the sleepers were awakened, and all hands turned out. The frigate speedily came up with the lately trim little ship, now reduced to a mere battered hulk. From her appearance it was surprising that she should be still afloat. A mast and yard, composed of numerous pieces, had been rigged forward with a royal or some other small sail set on it. The whole of the bulwarks on one side were stove in; not a gun remained, the boats were gone. Many of the crew lay about the deck exhausted with fatigue, and scarcely able to raise themselves, and utter a faint cheer, as the frigate, now shortening sail, approached, while the remainder were labouring hard at the pumps; and by the gush of water flowing from the scuppers, it was evident that they found it a hard matter to keep the ship afloat.

“Shorten sail, Commander Babbicome, and I’ll send you assistance, for I see you require it,” shouted Captain Hemming, with a touch of irony in his tone, as the frigate ranged up alongside.

A hawser had been got ready and passed aft; a long line secured to the end was hove on board the corvette, and those who just before seemed scarcely able to stand on their feet hauling on it with right good will; the hawser was passed forward, and quickly secured. In the meantime two boats had been lowered, and fifty fresh hands sent from the frigate relieved the worn-out crew of the corvette. Adair had gone in charge of the men, and Murray was the first person he greeted on deck.

“We had given you up for lost, but, thank Heaven, you are safe!” exclaimed Terence, as he warmly wrung his friend’s hand.

“It isn’t the first time either that we’ve had cause to be frightened about each other’s safety; and for my part I intend in future, should you or Jack disappear, never to despair of seeing you turn up again alive somewhere or other.”

“We have indeed been very mercifully preserved,” answered Murray, gravely. “But, my dear Adair, unless we take the greatest care, I very much doubt that the ship can be kept afloat till we reach Port Royal.”

And he briefly told Terence all that had occurred. There was but little time, however, for conversation. While most of the fresh hands went to the pumps the rest got up another sail, which, having been thrummed like the first, was passed under the ship’s bottom. The result was satisfactory. Though the frigate was towing the corvette at the rate of four knots an hour, instead of the leak increasing, as had been feared would be the case, the pumps rapidly gained on it. Higson, with additional hands, came on board; the hatches were taken off, and buckets being brought into play, passed rapidly up from below by a line of men, the depth of water in the hold was sensibly decreased, the corvette in consequence towing the lighter. Poor Commander Babbicome, who looked as unhappy as a man could do, went to his cabin; and even Murray, with most of the officers, was glad to turn in and leave the ship in charge of Adair and Fligson. Happily the wind remained fair and moderate, and in three days the frigate and her battered consort came safely to an anchor in the magnificent harbour of Port Royal. Their arrival was officially notified to the admiral, living at the Pen above Kingston, and he, shortly after coming down in his barge, having inspected the ships, ordered the corvette into dock to be repaired, while he gave a gentle hint to Commander Babbicome that, as he was not a good subject for resisting an attack of yellow fever, it would be wise in him to return by the first opportunity to England.

Chapter Nine.

Jamaica—Murray appointed to the Supplejack brig—Pull up to Kingston—Port Royal Jack—Johnny Ferong’s store—Visit to the Bradshaws—Kind reception—Return—The Supplejack sails for the southward.

Jamaica, a hundred and sixty miles long, by forty-five broad, is, as everybody knows, a very magnificent island; but, alas! its ancient glory has departed for a time, though it is to be hoped that one of the many panaceas proposed for its renovation may, ere long, restore it to its pristine state of prosperity. Port Royal, or Kingston Harbour, capable of holding a thousand tall ships, lies on its southern side, towards its eastern end. The harbour has for its sea boundary a low, narrow, sandy strip of land, several miles in length, called the Palisades, running from the east towards the west; at which end is seen the town of Port Royal standing a few feet above the water, and looking complacently down on its predecessor, buried eight fathoms below the surface by the earthquake of 1692. Here, too, is the Royal Naval Yard, hospital, barracks, and the works of Fort Charles defending the entrance, which is rendered still more difficult of access to an enemy by the Apostles’ Battery erected on the opposite side, with a fine range of mountains rising directly above it. Kingston, that not over delectable of sea-ports, stands on the northern shore of the harbour towards its eastern end, and is thus a considerable distance from Port Royal; the only communication between the two places being by water, except by a circuitous route along the burning sands of the Palisades, which adventurous mids and juvenile subs, have alone of mortals been known to attempt on horseback. The land rises rapidly beyond the flat on which Kingston stands, the Admiral’s Pen being some way above it, while Up Hill Barracks appear beautifully situated very much higher up the mountain.

The frigate lay at anchor off Port Royal, the crippled corvette had just been towed into dock. Jack and Terence were walking the deck under the awning, having got ready to go on shore.

“Faith, now, this is a fine place!” exclaimed Terence, as he gazed over the wide expanse of the harbour, the plain of Liguania covered with plantations, and dotted with white farm-houses quivering in the beams of a tropical sun. Beyond it rose the magnificent amphitheatre of the Blue Mountains, one piled upon another, reaching to the clouds, and intersected by numerous deep, irregular valleys; one of their spurs, with Rock Fort at its base, appearing directly over the ship’s port-quarter; while before the beam was seen, at the end of a narrow spit of sand, Fort Augusta, its guns ready to sweep to destruction any hostile fleet which might attempt to enter; and over the bow in the far distance could dimly be distinguished the town of Kingston, at the head of the lagoon.

“Not equal to Trinidad, though,” observed Jack. “I don’t know what your fair cousin Maria would say if she heard you expatiate so warmly on its beauties.”

“I’d just invite her to come with me, and judge for herself,” answered Terence. “But why did you speak of her now? I was beginning to fancy that I was getting the sweet creature out of my head, for it’s bothering me she has been ever since we left the island. Oh, Jack! you’re a hardhearted fellow. I thought that you would have fallen head over ears in love with Stella.”

“I saw that Miss O’Regan was not likely to fall in love with me, and, besides, for other reasons, when I found how completely Murray was captivated by her, I soon conquered the admiration I felt,” said Jack. “I wish for his sake that they had never met. Dragged about as she is by her enthusiast of a father into all sorts of dangers, it is impossible to say what may be her fate; and it would go nigh to break his heart should her life be lost, or any other misfortune happen to her. Here comes a shore-boat—we’ll secure her to take us to Kingston.”

Jack going to the gangway met the very person they had just been speaking of.

“Why, Murray, my dear fellow, we expected to meet you on shore!” he exclaimed. “What brings you back?”

“To look after my traps, settle my mess accounts, bid farewell to my late shipmates, and take command of HM Brig Supplejack, fitting out at the Dockyard, and nearly ready for sea, I am told,” answered Murray. “I don’t know whether to ask you to congratulate me or not. I had hoped to make the acquaintance of some families on shore to whom I have letters of introduction, but as they live some way from Kingston I fear that I shall not have time to call on them. One family, the Ravens, are related to my Antigua friends, the Houghtons; and another, the Bradshaws, to Colonel O’Regan and his daughter, of whom I hoped to hear from them. I feel anxious on the subject, I confess, for there are rumours on shore about the character of the brig they sailed in, which I do not like. I wish that she was safe back again.”

“The brig, or the young lady!” exclaimed Terence. “Ah, yes, I understand; the brig with the young lady aboard. I’d like to give her a royal salute as she comes in, which I dare say will be before long; and as to hearing about her, Jack and I will make a pilgrimage to the Ravens and Bradshaws, and bring you back all the intelligence we can collect, if you haven’t time to go yourself.”

“You may depend on us for that,” said Jack. “But I say, Alick, you haven’t told us by what good fortune you have been appointed to the Supplejack; for good fortune, I call it, to get an independent command, whatever you may think.”

“By no unusual means; through what I suspect the invidious will call Nepotism. When I went to pay my respects to the admiral, he at once hailed me as a cousin, told me he was glad to make my acquaintance, expressed his regret at the loss of poor Archy, who was also related to him, and wound up by saying that he should be very happy to forward my interests. I was taking my leave, wishing to get on to the Bradshaws, when he stopped me, inviting me to dinner, and observing that he should by that time have something to say to me; and wished, besides, to hear about old friends in bonnie Scotland. This, of course, was equivalent to a royal command; so I wrote to Mrs Bradshaw, enclosing my letter of introduction, and expressing my intention of calling on her and Mrs Raven as soon as I was at liberty. You and Terence will, I have no doubt, be welcomed if you can ride over to Saint David’s. You can explain more clearly than I could by letter how I am situated, and you will not fail to inquire what has been heard about the O’Regans. After dinner, the admiral, who spoke in the kindest way possible, said that Macleod, who he had intended should have command of the Supplejack having been invalided, as the corvette could not be refitted under three or four months, he had appointed me in his stead, and that he intended to transfer thirty of the corvette’s crew to the brig, with any officers I might name. Though I must consider my command but temporary, I may possibly, he hinted, be confirmed in it.”

“Congratulate you! Of course I do, and though I’m not jealous, it’s just the sort of command I should jump at,” exclaimed Terence.

“I am not quite so certain; it is said that if a lieutenant is placed in command of a small craft, he is never likely to get anything better,” observed Jack. “However, in your case it is different, as the admiral will look after your interests. Did he tell you how and where you are to be employed?”

“My duty will be chiefly to look after slaves and pirates, of whom a few occasionally appear sailing under the flags of some of the smaller South American States; he mentioned also, that I might probably be sent to the Spanish Main to protect British interests on that coast. My thoughts at once, I confess, flew to Colonel O’Regan and his daughter, and the possibility of meeting them; though I trust that they may have returned safely to Jamaica before I can get to the coast.”

“Who knows! By my faith, I should be after wishing the contrary!” exclaimed Terence. “What a romantic incident it would be now some morning just as day breaks, to make out away to leeward a brig which you have no doubt is the Sarah Jane, with a black, rakish, wicked-looking schooner close to, just opening fire. The brig fights bravely; she had, I think, a couple of two or three-pounders on board, but she will to a certainty be captured. You make all sail to her assistance, for the pirate, supposing you to be a merchantman, doesn’t up stick and run for it—but the wind drops, you take to your boats, the black schooner has ranged up alongside the brig, you arrive at the moment the brig’s crew have been overpowered—the colonel brought to the deck, and the pirate-captain, a huge ugly negro, is bearing off a fair lady in his arms. You cut him down, rescue the lady, drive the pirates overboard, place the colonel on his legs, blow up the schooner, and are duly rewarded for your gallantry.”

“Avast, Terence, with your nonsense!” exclaimed Murray, who had before been vainly endeavouring to stop the imaginative Irishman. “You make me miserable in suggesting the bare possibility of such an occurrence. The brig may be attacked, but I might not arrive in time to save my friends.”

“Now, Alick dear, you remind me mightily of Tim Doolan, the cowboy at Ballymacree,” said Terence. “I found Tim, one bright morning, looking as unhappy as his twinkling eyes and cocked-up nose would let him. ‘Tim, my beauty—what’s the matter?’ I asked.

“‘It’s a throubled drame, Mr Terence, that I have had,’ answered Tim, twisting his nose and mouth about in a curious manner, and giving a peculiar wink with his right eye.

“‘What is it, man?’ I asked. ‘Out with your dream.’

“‘Well, your honour, it was just this. I dreamt that I went to pay a visit to his holiness the Pope, and a civil old gentleman he was, for he axed me if I’d take some whisky and water, and on course I said yes. “Hot or cold, Tim?” asked the Pope. “Hot, your reverence,” says I, and bad luck to me, for by dad, while the Pope went down to the kitchen to get the kettle I awoke; and now, if I’d said cold, I’d have had time to toss off a noggin-full at laste, and it’s that throubles me.’

“Now it strikes me, Alick, that your waking imagination is as vivid as Tim’s; but don’t let it run away with you in this instance. You’ll see the Sarah Jane come safe into harbour before you leave it, and have time to wish the young lady the top of the morning, at all events.”

“You are incorrigible, Paddy,” answered Murray, laughing in spite of himself. “As I have stood all your bantering, I have the right to insist on your coming with me to inspect the Supplejack before you go up to Kingston.”

His two friends of course agreed to the proposal, and their carpet-bags being put into Murray’s boat they pulled for the Dockyard at Port Royal. The Supplejack had her lower yards across, and most of her stores on board. In three or four days she might, by an efficient crew, be got ready for sea. Though Murray would gladly have had a longer delay, duty with him was paramount to every other consideration, and he resolved to use every exertion to expedite her outfit. She was not much of a beauty, they were of opinion; but she looked like a good sea-boat, and Jack thought that she would prove a fast craft, which was of the most consequence. Though rated as a six-gun brig she carried only two carronades, and a third long heavy gun amidships, which they agreed, under some circumstances, would be of more avail than the four short guns it had replaced. Terence advised Alick to ask for two more carronades.

“I might not get them if I did ask, so I will make good use, if I have the chance, of those on board,” was the answer.

Captain Hemming had been requested to spare Murray five hands from the frigate. He chose Ben Snatchblock, the boatswain’s-mate, to act as boatswain, a great promotion for Ben, and four others; these, with a dozen hands before belonging to the brig, the rest having died of yellow fever, sent home invalided, or deserted, made up his complement. He had applied for, and obtained old Higson, a former shipmate who had so taken to heart the loss of the three midshipmen that he was anxious for more stirring employment than he could find on board the frigate, likely to be detained for some time at Jamaica, or not to go much farther than Cuba. The other officers were selected from the corvette. The old mate was highly pleased. He had the duty of a first lieutenant, and was one in all respects, except in name, though not to be sure over a very large ship’s company. Hard drinker and careless as he had been sometimes on shore, Murray knew that he could trust him thoroughly when responsibility was thrown on his shoulders, and hoped that by being raised in his own estimation he might altogether be weaned of his bad habits.

Jack and Terence sailed up to Kingston with a fresh sea breeze a-beam blowing over the sandy shore of the Palisades.

“Take care you don’t capsize us,” said Jack to the black skipper, who carried on till the boat’s gunwale was almost under water.

“Neber tink I do dat, massa leetenant. Not pleasant place to take swim,” answered the man, with a broad grin on his ebon features, showing his white teeth.

“I think not, indeed,” exclaimed Terence. “Look there.”

He pointed to a huge shark, its triangular fin just above the surface, keeping two or three fathoms off, even with the boat, at which the monster every now and then, as he declared, gave a wicked leer.

“What do you call that fellow?”

“Dat, massa, dat is Port Royal Jack,” answered the negro. “He keep watch ober de harbour—case buckra sailors swim ashore. He no come up much fader when he find out we boat from de shore. See he go away now.”

The shark gave a whisk with his tail, and disappeared in an instant. The young officers breathed more freely when their ill-omened companion had gone. Almost immediately afterwards a boat belonging to a large merchantman, lying at the mouth of the harbour, ready for sea, passed them under all sail. Her crew of eight hands had evidently taken a parting glass with their friends.

“Dey carry too much canvas wid de grog dey hab aboard,” observed the black. “Better look out for squalls.”

He hailed, but received only a taunting jeer in return, and the boat sped on her course. Not a minute had passed when Jack and Terence heard the negro mate, who was watching the boat, sing out—

“Dere dey go, Jack shark get dem now—eh?”

Looking in the direction the black’s chin was pointing, to their horror they saw that the boat had capsized, her masts and sails appearing for an instant as she rapidly went to the bottom, while the people were writhing and struggling on the surface, shrieking out loudly for help. Jack and Terence ordered the black to put the boat about instantly, and go to their rescue. Nearly two minutes passed before they reached the spot. Five men only were floating. The ensanguined hue of the water told too plainly what had been the fate of the others.

“Help! help. For God’s sake, help!” shrieked out a man near them, in an agony of fear. At that instant a white object was seen rising, it seemed, from the bottom. The hapless man threw up his arms, and, uttering a piercing shriek, disappeared beneath the water.

The other four men could swim, but almost paralysed with fear kept crying out for help, without making any effort to save themselves, striking out wildly, round and round, as if they did not see the approaching boat. First one was hauled on board, then another and another. Jack had got hold of the fourth, and was dragging him in when a shark rose from the bottom. The negro boatman’s quick eye had espied the monster. He darted down his boat-hook into the open mouth of the shark, which, closing its jaws, bit off the iron and a part of the stock, while, by a violent effort, Jack and Terence jerked the man inboard, thus saving his legs, and probably his life.

They were now directly over the spot where the boat went down, and so clear was the water, the ruddy stains having disappeared, that they could see her as she lay at the bottom. Jack was standing up, when he exclaimed—

“There is a poor fellow entangled in the rigging—he seems alive. I think that I could bring him up.”

Influenced by a generous impulse, and forgetting the fearful monsters in the neighbourhood, he was on the point of leaping overboard, when the black boatman seized his arm, crying out—

“No, no, massa, dat one shark, hisself.”

Jack looked again, and the object he had mistaken for a seaman’s white shirt resolved itself into the white belly of a shark, the creature being employed in gnawing the throat of its victim.

“Dat is what dey always do,” observed the black coolly. “Dey drag down by de feet, and den dey begin to eat at de trote.”

Probably because the throat is the part of the body most exposed. Jack and Terence carried the survivors up to Kingston. Except that they uttered a few expressions of regret at the sad fate of their shipmates, the men seemed very little concerned, or grateful to Heaven for their own preservation; and immediately on landing they went into a grog-shop, where they probably soon forgot all about the matter. Such is the force of habit. Jack and Terence were not enchanted with the silent, half-deserted streets of Kingston, through which, having lost their way, they paraded for half an hour or more; but after eating a pink-coloured shaddock, and half-a-dozen juicy oranges, obtained from a smiling-faced negress market-woman, their spirits rose.

“Things begin to wear a more roseate hue, maybe tinged with the juice of the fruit we’ve swallowed,” said Terence, laughing, “and here’s Johnny Ferong’s store we were looking for, I’ve no doubt.”

They entered, and received a hearty welcome from that most loquacious and facetious of Frenchmen, who offered to supply them with every possible article they could require in any quantity, from a needle to an anchor. They wanted something—it was information—how best to get out to Saint David’s, not a profitable article to supply them with, but Johnny Ferong afforded it, with apparently infinite pleasure, and further assisted to raise their spirits, and confirm their resolution of becoming customers, by handing them each a glass of cool, sparkling champagne, and immediately replenishing it when empty.

“And you want to pay visit to Madame Bradsaw? Charmante lady—den I vill order one voiture for vous, vich vill take vous dere, let me see, in two hours and one half; and vous stay dere, and come back in de cool of de morning, or in de evening, or de next day as vous please,” said Mr Ferong, bowing, and smiling, as he spoke, in the mode habitual to him.

“It will never do to take people by storm in that fashion,” exclaimed Jack. “Unless we can get back to-night we had better put off our visit till to-morrow morning.”

Terence, who was modesty itself in such a case, agreed with him. Mr Ferong, however, laughed at their scruples, assuring them that Mr and Mrs Bradshaw would be delighted to see them, whether strangers or not, that he would be answerable for all consequences, and settled the matter by sending off a black boy to order the carriage forthwith, and to fetch their carpet-bags from the inn, where they had been deposited on landing. In the meantime Jack and Terence found several acquaintances among the visitors, chiefly naval and military officers, assembled in Johnny Ferong’s reception-room, forming the lower storey of his store or warehouse. There were also a few merchant-skippers, and civilian agents of estates, clerics and others. Countless glass cases, exhibiting wares of all sorts, and goods of every description in bales, packages, boxes, and casks, were piled up, or scattered about the place, serving for seats for the guests, most of whom were smoking and sipping sangaree. While Jack was talking to an old shipmate he unexpectedly met, a skipper and a merchant were engaged in an earnest conversation near him, and he could not help overhearing some of the remarks which dropped from them.

“If Captain Crowhurst can manage to run his cargo before the brig’s character is suspected it will be an easy affair for him, but if not he will find it a difficult job. They have got half-a-dozen armed craft, which will watch her pretty sharply, and I know those mongrel Spaniards well. If they catch her they’ll not scruple to sink her, and shoot every man on board.”

These remarks were made by the skipper.

“But the Sarah Jane is a fast craft, and will, I should hope, be able to keep out of their way,” said the merchant, in an anxious voice. “We should be unable to recover her insurance should she be sunk, I fear.”

“As certainly as the poor fellows who may be shot would be unable to come to life again,” observed the skipper dryly. “To my mind it’s not fair to send men on such an adventure.”

“They are aware of what they are about, and know the risk they run,” said the merchant.

“The captain and supercargo may, but not the rest of the people, and that’s what I find fault with,” observed the skipper.

Jack heartily agreed with the last speaker, and was on the point of turning round to make inquiries about the Sarah Jane, when the merchant, suspecting that they must have been overheard, drew his companion aside and left the store. Jack asked Mr Ferong if he could give him the information he desired; but the Frenchman, shrugging his shoulders, replied that he knew nothing of the affairs of his customers; his business was to obtain “his littel wares of de best quality and to sell dem at de lowest price possible.”

In a shore time the carriage appeared, with their carpet-bags strapped on behind, and covered with a tarpaulin. It was a species of gig, with a seat in front for the driver, and had two horses, one in the shafts and the other prancing in comparative freedom, secured by traces to an outrigger. Away they started at furious speed, and before long were ascending the side of the magnificent Liguania mountains; now proceeding along a romantic valley, with a babbling stream on one side; now passing over a height; now along a level, or but slightly sloping spot for half a mile or so, but gradually getting higher and higher above the plain. Sometimes, when exposed to the sun’s rays, they found it hot enough; but frequently they travelled under the long shadow of some gigantic cotton tree, shooting up into the blue heavens; or beneath a grove of graceful palms, the tendrils of the yam and granadillos climbing up them, with fences on either side, covered by numberless creepers, passion-flowers of varied sizes, and convolvuli of countless descriptions. The whole country seemed like an assemblage of orchards, composed of orange-trees in fruit and flower, lemon and citron trees, glossy-leaved star apples; the avocada, with its huge pear, and the bread fruit-tree bearing still vaster fruit, and leaves of proportionate size; while beneath them were seen in abundance the unfailing food of man in tropical climes, the ever cool, fresh, green plantain; indeed, the strangers felt bewildered amid the variety of trees, shrubs, and plants which surrounded them.

“A perfect paradise, this,” exclaimed Jack, who was not much addicted, however, thus to express his feelings. “See, the vegetation reaches to the very summit of the highest mountains.”

“Inhabited by no small number of ebon-hued Adams and Eves,” observed Terence, pointing to several palm-thatched, white-washed huts, a little way off, before which was collected a group of negroes, men, and women, and children, laughing, shouting, and talking, looking wonderfully happy; the former all neatly habited, and though the smaller members of the community were not overburdened with clothing, they looked as plump and jolly as need be. “I only wish that our peasantry in old Ireland were as well off as these people seem to be.”

“And those of England, also,” said Jack. “Still slavery is an abomination, and I pray that it may some day cease throughout the world.”

The lieutenants scarcely believed that the time they expected to be on the road had elapsed, when their driver pointed to a wide-spreading, low mansion, with verandahs all round it, and extensive outbuildings, and said—

“Dere, dat Saint David’s.”

Somehow or other they had expected to see only a Mr and Mrs Bradshaw. Their surprise was considerable when they met with a reception not unlike that at Trinidad, from a matronly dame and a number of young damsels; except that they did not claim Adair as a relation.

“We were expecting Mr Murray, and regret not seeing him, but his brother officers are most welcome,” said Mrs Bradshaw, when she had glanced at Alick’s letter.

She then introduced the two lieutenants by name to her eldest daughter Fanny, and to her three little girls, as she called them, but though the youngest was barely thirteen, they all looked like grown women. Adair was quickly at home with them, answering the questions they showered on him. Jack remained talking to Mrs Bradshaw and Fanny. He mentioned Murray’s anxiety about the O’Regans.

“I fear that he has good reason to be anxious,” answered Mrs Bradshaw. “The colonel promised to bring his daughter here long ago, and we were expecting to see her, when we heard that he had carried her off on another of his wild expeditions. He wrote word from Antigua that he intended to be but a short time away, so that they may possibly arrive in a day or two. We long to have her safe with us, for though Fanny is the only one who knows her, as they were at a finishing school together in England, from the account she gives we are all prepared to love her.”

“Yes, indeed,” exclaimed Fanny. “She was a delightful creature, the pet and darling of the school, one of the youngest among us; and I should never have supposed that she would have been able to go through what she has done since.”

While they were speaking Mr Bradshaw arrived—a stout, bald-headed, middle-aged gentleman, with ruddy countenance, dressed in nankin trousers, white jacket, and broad-brimmed straw hat, which he doffed as he approached the strangers, glancing from one to the other; and then, having settled in his mind that Jack Rogers was Alick Murray, shook his hand, which he grasped with the greatest warmth.

“Happy to welcome you to Saint David’s, my dear sir; only wish that our expected friends were here also. A great disappointment to us, and to you likewise, I feel sure, eh!” and he gave a facetious look at Jack, as much as to say. “I know all about it.”

“My dear, this gentleman is Lieutenant Rogers. Mr Murray has been unable to come up,” said Mrs Bradshaw; and she explained how matters stood.

Jack thought that he ought to speak of going back. Mr Bradshaw laughed at the notion.

“Utterly out of the question. Stay a week, or as long as you have leave. Send your shanredan back to-morrow morning, and I’ll drive you down in my buggy when you have to go.”

Thus pressed, Jack confessed that he and Adair had brought their carpet-bags, not knowing where they might have to put up, and accepted the invitation for the night; but said that, on Murray’s account, they must return the next day to see him before he sailed, and to tell him what they had heard respecting Colonel and Miss O’Regan.

“You may assure your friend that he will ever be welcome here, and I hope that we shall have the young lady with us when he returns,” answered Mr Bradshaw. “I will not say the same with regard to her impracticable father, for, between you and I, the farther he is away from her the better. I am no admirer of his wild, harum-scarum schemes, though he is individually a brave and honourable man; and had he not foolishly quarrelled with the authorities at home, he would never have lacked employment under the flag of England, instead of knocking his head against stone walls in quarrels not his own.”

These remarks of the worthy planter explained Colonel O’Regan’s character to Jack more clearly than anything he had before heard. He had before entertained some unpleasant suspicions on the subject. They were confirmed, and he now only hoped that Murray would not, should he marry Stella, be induced to join any of her father’s schemes. Of that, however, if cautioned, he did not think there was much risk. Had Terence been the favoured lover the case would have been different, for, enthusiastic himself, he might easily have been won over by the colonel’s persuasive powers. Dinner was soon announced. Jack and Terence, who were very hungry, did ample justice to the solids as well as to the numerous West Indian delicacies and rich fruits pressed on them by their fair hostesses—the shaddocks, the mangos, and, above all, the granadillos, which were pronounced like strawberries and cream, but superior to any such mixture ever tasted in Europe. They enjoyed, too, a most pleasant evening, several friends having come in, among them Mr and Mrs Raven, nice young people, full of life and spirits. Mrs Raven was glad, she said, to make the acquaintance of Lieutenant Murray’s brother officers, of whom she had heard from her mother, Mrs Houghton, and only regretted that he himself was unable to come.

“However,” she added, “we may hope to see him frequently by-and-by, on his return from his cruise.”

They had dancing, of course, as young people never think of meeting in the West Indies without it; and some delightful music, for the younger girls had been taught by Fanny, who was highly accomplished. Mr Bradshaw observed that they did pretty well considering that they had not the advantages of their elder sister. Times were changed in Jamaica, and he could not afford to pay three hundred a year for the education of each of them, as he had done for her.

“No; but they are better housekeepers, and understand far more about preserving and pickling than she does, and there is not a bird or a flower on the estate, or, indeed, in any part of the island, with which they are not acquainted,” remarked Mrs Bradshaw, with motherly pride. “Thanks to Fanny, too, they are really, considering their ages, not so very much behind her in book knowledge. We need not regret having kept them with us.”

“I agree in all you say, Mrs B,” rejoined her husband, rubbing his hands and laughing; “and as I am eighteen hundred pounds the richer, or, let me see, in three years, with the addition of their voyages and dress, the cost of sending them home would have amounted to three thousand or more. I do not complain, I assure you.”

The young officers listened with surprise, and not a little amusement, at this eulogium on the young ladies, and the accompanying remarks—uttered they believed correctly without any ulterior object. It gave them some idea of the expense to which West Indian parents were put for the education of their girls, of which they before had no conception.

“Faith! more than double a lieutenant’s pay,” ejaculated Terence, as he was turning in at night. “If he would make that allowance to Fanny, the eldest of the three, I’d do my best to win her before the ship sails. I can’t stand it, Jack. I must either stay aboard and do duty for Cherry, or never set eyes on these houris again, or knock under to one or the other.”

“‘There’s luck in odd numbers, says Rory O’More,’” answered Jack, from his side of the room. “You divided your attention very fairly among the young ladies, and depend on it they will as easily forget us as we shall get them out of our heads, by the time we have been a few days at sea; so don’t bother yourself about the matter, Paddy, but go to sleep.”

Whether or not Terence followed his advice Jack could not tell, for he himself very soon went off into a sound slumber. The house was astir at daybreak, and not long after the white dresses and broad-brimmed straw hats of the young ladies were seen in the garden amid the fragrant flowers, with glittering humming-birds and gorgeous butterflies, flitting about in all directions. The lieutenants speedily joined them. Jack’s wise resolutions were almost overcome. He had made up his mind to take leave after breakfast. They looked so bright and happy; the air was so fresh, the flowers so sweet. He and Terence could not fail to spend a pleasant day, but then he remembered Murray, who would be anxiously looking for their return.

“Then you’ll come again soon, Mr Adair, if Mr Rogers thinks you must go now,” said Fanny, with a strong emphasis on the must, and a gentle sigh.

“You will always be welcome at Saint David’s,” added Mr Bradshaw. “And tell Lieutenant Murray that I will let him know should I hear anything about the Sarah Jane. I may possibly get information which might not reach him.”

Their own vehicle not having started they returned to Kingston in it, well baked by the burning rays of the sun. With a case of champagne, and a few other articles obtained of Johnny Ferong, as presents to Murray, they returned in the evening to Port Royal. Alick thanked them heartily. He had so zealously pushed forward the brig’s equipment that she would be ready for sea the next day. That very evening he received orders from the admiral to sail immediately he could. A despatch had just arrived from the British consul at Carthagena, stating that disturbances had broken out in the country, and requesting to have a man-of-war sent immediately, for the protection of British subjects residing there, and elsewhere along the coast.

Captain Hemming had been directed to send fifty hands from the frigate, and with the assistance of Rogers and Adair, by working all night, the sails were bent, and early next morning the brig glided out into the harbour.

The land-wind still blew strong, smelling of the hot earth, albeit mixed with spicy odours. Murray was eager to be away. His duty required him to use all speed. He had also a feeling that he might be of service to those in whom he was so deeply interested. He spoke of it to his friends.

“Second-sight, eh, Alick!” said Rogers. “I have no great faith in that, but I am very sure that whatever has to be done you will do it thoroughly.”

“I wish that I could accompany you,” exclaimed Adair. “If Hemming would spare me I’d have my traps on board in a jiffy.”

“I should be glad of your company; the admiral, however, in a private note, says that he shall probably despatch the frigate in a few days, but he remarks that the brig will be of greater service, by being able to enter the rivers and harbours, which she cannot,” answered Murray.

Rogers and Adair watched the Supplejack as she glided out of the harbour under all sail to the southward before the wind, till she met the sea breeze, when, hauling her tacks aboard, she heeled over to it, and stood away to the south-west, her canvas gradually disappearing below the horizon.

Jack and Terence spent their time pleasantly enough on shore, Johnny Ferong’s store being one of their favourite places of resort, as it was of officers of all ranks. Captain Hemming had made a rule that his midshipmen, when they returned on board after leave, should send in a written statement of the places and people they had visited. He was much amused at the frequency of such entries as the following:—

“Called on J Ferong’s, Esquire;” “spent the evening at J Ferong’s, Esquire,” music and a hop sometimes added; “lunched at J Ferong’s, Esquire.” In those days Jamaica flourished, but alas! her time came, and so did that of the well-known highly-esteemed Johnny Ferong. As the island went down he ceased to flourish, and at length Kingston knew him no more, except as one of her departed worthies.

Chapter Ten.

Cruise of the Supplejack—Calms and heat—A shark caught—Exercising at the guns—A boat seen—Needham and one of the missing midshipmen found, nearly dying from thirst—They bring alarming information.

The Supplejack was making the best of her way across the Caribbean sea. Murray, or one of his subordinates, Higson, or Jos Green usually so called, the second master of the corvette, was ever on deck, with watchful eyes on the bending topmasts, carrying on as much sail as the brig could bear. Gallantly she slashed through the blue, heaving seas, a mass of white foam rising up round her bows, and sheets of sparkling spray flying over her forecastle. A bright look-out was kept on every side, not in the expectation of meeting either with a slaver or pirate; but the young commander could not help secretly hoping that he might fall in with the Sarah Jane, and be relieved of his chief cause of anxiety. His patience, however, on several occasions was sorely tried when the wind fell light. One day, too, a perfect calm came on, and the brig lay, her sides lapping the glassy sea, as she rolled in the slowly-heaving, sluggish swell, and her sails flapped lazily against the masts. In vain old Higson whistled for a wind till his cheeks were ready to crack; not that he really believed the proceeding would produce a breeze, or that he had any notion of the origin of the custom; but he had always done so when there was a calm; and he wanted a wind, and the wind, if he whistled long enough, always came. The heat was oppressive, as it always is under such circumstances in those latitudes; the spirits of all fell, except those of Jos Green, who was ever merry, blow high or blow low, in sunshine or cold. The grumblers grumbled, of course, but in lower tones than usual, like the mutterings of distant thunder; the phlegmatic became more supine; the quarrelsome had not the energy to dispute; the talkative were silent; and even Pat Blathermouth, who could usually spin a yarn which lasted from the beginning to eight bells in a watch, and then wasn’t half finished, could scarcely drawl out an oft-told tale, which was wont to make his hearers burst their sides with laughter, but now only sent them to sleep.

“Of course it’s hot,” answered jolly Jos to a remark of Higson’s. “What else would you have it here in the tropics, with the bright sun striking down from the cloudless sky? It has its advantages, and it is better than cold, and saves one the trouble of putting on more clothing than decency requires.”

“But it may be the harbinger of another hurricane, and that wouldn’t be pleasant,” observed Fligson.

“No fear of a hurricane. They seldom reach so far south,” answered Jos. “Wait patiently, and we shall get the breeze before long. If not, what’s the odds? we are very happy as we are.”

“You’re a salamander, or you wouldn’t say that,” growled Higson.

“Just the very thing of all others it’s most convenient to be just now,” answered jolly Jos, laughing. “It really isn’t hotter than it has been often before, only there are fewer hands to divide it amongst, eh? Just do your turn in, Hig, and forget your troubles in sleep.”

“I shall be stewed if I do,” moaned Higson. “I’ve a great mind to have a swim.”

“It will be the last you’ll ever take, old fellow, depend on that,” said Green. “Look there!”

He pointed to the black fin of a huge shark, which the next instant, turning up its white belly, opened its huge mouth to swallow the contents of the cook’s slush bucket.

“See, Jack has had his soup, and will be ready for the next course, which you proposed offering him.”

“Thank you, Jos; I’ve changed my mind,” said Higson. “But I should not object to catch the fellow, and take a slice out of him instead.”

A stout hook, with a bit of chain to the end of a strong line, and baited with a piece of pork, was quickly got ready. Even the most apathetic of the seamen were aroused with the hopes of capturing their hated foe. A couple of running bowlines were prepared. Higson dropped the tempting morsel, and let it sink down deep, then rapidly drew it up again. Quick as lightning the shark darted at it, and down his throat it went, his jaws closing with a snap which made Higson draw up his leg. The monster’s sharp teeth, however, could not bite through the chain.

“Haul away, lads!” cried the old mate.

While Ben Snatchblock slipped a running bowline over the creature’s head, its tail coming to the surface, he dexterously got another round it, and, in spite of its violent struggles, it was hoisted on board.

“Stand clear of him, lads,” shouted Higson, though the men did not need the warning.

The crew seizing axes, capstan-bars, and boarding pikes, attacked the captive monster, as it lay writhing on deck, lashing out furiously with its tail, and every now and then opening its huge jaws, as if even then it had hopes of catching one of its assailants. It showed what it could do by biting off the head of a boarding-pike, which Ben thrust into its mouth. With wild shouts the men sprang round it, rushing in, every now and then, to give it a blow with an axe or capstan-bar, and leaping back again to avoid its tail; for even though its head was nearly smashed in, that continued striking out, and lashing the deck as furiously as at first, till Higson came down on it with a well-aimed blow of his axe, which instantly paralysed it, and it lay motionless.

“We’ll make sure, lads, he don’t come to life again,” exclaimed Ben, as he set to work to chop off the tail.

The head was treated in the same way; and a number of slices being cut off the body, the remainder was thrown overboard. Murray, wondering what the hubbub was about, had come on deck, and was an amused spectator of the scene. The men no longer thought of the heat, and, in spite of it, regaled themselves heartily on shark-steaks at dinner. The capture of the shark, too, brought them good luck, they declared; for a favourable breeze shortly afterwards sprang up, and held till the northern coast of the South American continent was sighted. Before, however, Carthagena, the port at which Murray had been directed to call, first could be made, it again fell calm. He felt the delay very trying. He had been eagerly hoping to get in by the evening, to ascertain if anything had been heard of the Sarah Jane, and now another whole day or more might pass before he could gain any information. The coast lay in sight, its ranges of light-blue mountains looking like clouds, rising above the horizon but proving that they were mountains by never altering their shape or position. Higson whistled as energetically as usual, but not a catspaw played over the surface of the mirror-like sea, and not an inch nearer the shore did the brig move during the day. The night passed by, and the hot sun rose once more out of the still slumbering ocean. The day wore on, but no breeze came. The men, of course, were not idle. Murray had from the first exercised them at their guns, and especially in the use of the long one. He remembered the advice Admiral Triton had given to Jack Rogers, and which Jack had repeated to him—

“Don’t mind throwing a few rounds of shot away; you’ll make the better use of those you have remaining.”

He, accordingly, had a floating target rigged and carried out to a distance, and each day during a calm he exercised the men at it for some hours, till they learnt to handle their long gun with as much ease as the carronades.

“Though we miss that mark sometimes, we shall manage to hit a larger one without fail if it comes in our way, my lads!” he sang out, to encourage the crew as they were working away at it during the morning.

After dinner the men were allowed some time to rest, and all was quiet. An observation showed that the brig’s position had not altered since the previous noon.

“What do you make that out to be, Green?” asked Higson, the officer of the watch, who had been looking through his telescope towards the shore. Green turned his glass in the same direction.

“A boat! and she must be coming towards us,” he answered, after the delay of a minute or so.

Higson sent him to report the circumstance to the commander, who at once came on deck. Various were the surmises as to what could bring the boat off to them.

“She must have had a long pull of it, at all events,” observed Higson.

“Perhaps she had the land wind, which we don’t feel out here?” said Green.

“Little doubt about that. She must have some urgent cause for coming out thus far to us,” remarked Murray. “Lower the gig, Mr Higson, and go and meet her,” he added immediately afterwards. “The people in the boat are evidently tired with their long pull, and make but slow progress.”

The gig’s crew called away—she was lowered, and Higson pulled off towards the approaching boat. Meantime, Murray walked the deck with impatient steps. Several times he stopped, and raised his glass to his eye, watching her eagerly. At length he saw that the gig had reached her. The two boats were alongside each other for a minute, and then the gig came rowing rapidly back, leaving the other behind. Murray watched her.

“There must be something of importance to make Higson hurry back at that rate,” he said to himself. “He has brought the people from the boat, I see.”

As the gig drew nearer, he saw Higson stand up and wave his handkerchief. In a few minutes more she was near enough for him to distinguish those in her.

“Is it possible, or do my eyes deceive me?” he exclaimed. “There’s a lad in a midshipman’s uniform. If he is not Gerald Desmond, he is wonderfully like him.”

“There can be little doubt who he is, sir,” said Green, who was standing near his commander. “If that is not Desmond I’m a Dutchman, and the man sitting just abaft the stroke-oar is Dick Needham, who went with the youngsters in the drogher. As they are safe, it is to be hoped the rest escaped, too. I’ve often heard that midshipmen have as many lives as cats.”

“I trust, indeed, that all have been saved,” said Murray, in a grave tone. He felt too anxious to joke with Jos just then.

The gig was soon alongside, and Gerald Desmond, looking pale and exhausted, was lifted on deck; Needham, with some help, managing to follow him.

“I am truly thankful to see you, Desmond,” said Murray, as he took the hand of the young midshipman, who was being carried aft in the arms of two of the sailors. “Have Tom and Archy also been saved?”

Gerald tried to reply, but no sound came from his parched throat. He had barely strength to point with a finger to his lips. Needham was in but little better plight, though he managed to murmur, “water—water.” Several cans-full were instantly brought by eager hands.

“Stop, lads, you’ll suffocate the poor fellows if you pour all that water down their throats!” exclaimed McTavish, the Assistant Surgeon of the corvette, who had been lent to the Supplejack. “Just a wine-glassful at a time, with a few drops of brandy in it, will be the best thing for them.”

While the surgeon was attending to his patients, Higson made his report to the commander. He had found them both still trying to pull, but so exhausted that they could scarcely move their oars. No sooner did he get alongside than Desmond sank down in the bottom of the boat, unable to speak. Needham, however, had had strength sufficient to tell him that both the other midshipmen were alive, but prisoners on shore; though how they got into prison he had not said.

“From what I could make out, sir, I am afraid they are not the only English in the hands of the Spaniards, or Carthagenans, or whatever the rascals call themselves,” continued Higson. “I caught the words, ‘the colonel and a young lady—and no time to be lost!’ but what he wished to say more I couldn’t make out, only I cannot help thinking that he must have alluded to the colonel and his daughter, who sailed the other day in the brig from Antigua.”

“I fear that there is no doubt about it!” exclaimed Murray, greatly agitated. “When Needham has sufficiently recovered to speak we shall learn more about the matter, and be able to decide what to do. Stay. That no time may be lost, let the boats be got ready with water-casks and provisions, and see that the crews have their cutlasses sharpened and pistols in order. Should the calm continue I will lead an expedition on shore, and insist on the liberation of the prisoners. The sight of the British flag will probably put the Dons on their good behaviour, and, if not, we must try what force can do. I will leave you, Higson, in charge of the brig with twenty hands, and as soon as a breeze springs up you will stand in after me, and act according to circumstances.”

“I am afraid, sir, that if the Carthagenans, or whatever they call themselves, are threatened with force, they will retaliate on their prisoners,” observed Higson.

“Mongrels as they are, if they have a drop of Spanish blood running in their veins, they would not surely injure a lady!” exclaimed Murray.

“Not so sure of that. Whether whole or half-blooded, Spaniards are savage fellows when their temper’s up,” answered Higson. “However, let us hope for the best. All I can make out is that our friends are prisoners, but the why and the wherefore I don’t understand; only as Desmond and Needham were evidently in a great hurry to get off to us, I’m afraid that they must be in some danger.”

Higson’s remarks contributed to make Murray feel more anxious even than at first. The forebodings which had oppressed him since Stella and her father left Antigua had, too, probably been realised. While Higson issued the orders he had just received, Murray went up to where the young midshipman and Needham had been placed under an awning, attended by the surgeon. The cook had, meantime, been preparing some broth, a few spoonsful of which as soon as they could swallow them, were poured down their throats. This treatment had an almost magical effect Needham was soon able to sit up and speak, and even Gerald, though his strength had been more completely prostrated, recovered sufficiently soon afterwards to give a clear account of the way they had been saved, and of what had afterwards happened. In consequence, however, of Murray’s anxiety, they narrated the latter part of their adventures first; though they will be better understood if they are described in their proper sequence.

Chapter Eleven.

Needham’s Narrative—The drogher driven off from Saba—Capsized—The midshipmen save themselves on her side—Taken off by the Sarah Jane—Steer for Carthagena—The Colonel on shore—Look out for his return.

“You remember that night at Saba, Mr Higson, when the three young gentlemen and I were left aboard the drogher, and you and the other gentlemen went ashore to look after Captain Quasho, as he called himself, and his rascally black crew,” began Needham, who having recovered his voice, was inclined to make good use of it by spinning a long yarn.

“I should think I did, indeed,” said Higson; “but go ahead, Dick: we want to hear how you and they were saved, for I had little hope that you would be, when I saw the drogher driven away from her anchorage by the hurricane.”

“Nor had I, sir, I can tell you; but I’ve always held that there’s nothing like trying to do one’s best, in however bad a way one may seem to be,” continued Needham. “I saw that there was only one thing we could do, and that was to run before the wind, and to try and keep the craft above water. As to beating back, I knew that the old drogher would either have capsized, or been driven on the rocks, if we had made the attempt so I took the helm, got a foot of the foresail hoisted, the hatches battened down, told the young gentlemen to lash themselves to the rigging, if they didn’t wish to be washed overboard, and let the craft scud. It was precious dark, except every now and then, when the flashes of lightning darted from the clouds and went zigzagging along on either side of us, casting a red glare on the tops of the black seas, from which the foam was blown off just for all the world as if a huge white sheet had been drawn over them. The spoondrift, too, came straight along our deck, over the taffrail, as if it would cut our legs off; for, though we flew at a pretty good rate, it flew faster. As every now and then I turned my head I couldn’t help thinking that one of thy big seas which came roaring on astern just for all the world like one of the savage monsters I’ve heard tell of, eager to swallow us up, would break down on the deck, and send us in a jiffy to the bottom. I didn’t care so much about it for myself as for the brave young lads, likely to be admirals one of these days; but not a cry nor a word of complaint did I hear from them. Mr Rogers, maybe, was the most plucky, as he seemed to feel that it was his duty to set an example to his messmates; and I could hear his voice every now and then, as they all stood close together, lashed to the starboard rigging, and when the lightning flashed I could just get a glimpse of their faces, looking pale as death—not from fear, though, but contrasted, as it were, with the darkness around. I had made myself fast you may be sure; for I shouldn’t have been long on the deck if I hadn’t, as not once, but many a time a sea came tumbling over first one quarter, then the other; and, though it was but just the top of it, we should all of us have been swept overboard, and if the hatches hadn’t been battened down, the old drogher would have gone to the bottom. We had managed to light the binnacle lamp before we got from under the land, and I saw by the compass that we were driving about south-east, so that I had no fear of being cast on the shore of any other island, and I hoped, if we could weather out the gale, that we might beat back to Saba. On we ran hour after hour. It seemed to me the longest night I’d ever passed since I came to sea. The wonder was that the drogher still kept afloat; but she was tight and light as a cork—now she was on the top of one sea, now climbing up the side of another. One comfort was that the longest night must come to an end, and that the hurricane could not last for ever. We were, I judged, too, on the skirts of it, and that if we stood on we should in time get beyond its power. It required pretty careful steering to keep the wind right aft, for if I had brought it ever so little abeam the vessel would have gone clean over in a moment. I was thankful, you may be sure, when daylight came at last—not that the prospect round us was a pleasant one. The big seas were rolling and leaping, and tumbling about like mad, on every side hissing and roaring, and knocking their white heads together, as if they didn’t know what they would be at. It was a hard job to steer clear of the worst; it was often Dobson’s choice, and many came with such a plump down on the deck that I thought after all we should be sent to Davy Jones’s locker; but the lively little craft managed to run her nose up the next mountain sea, and to shake herself clear of the water, just as a Newfoundland dog does when he gets ashore after a swim. The only pleasant sight was to see the young gentlemen standing where they had been all night, and keeping up their spirits.

“‘We are getting precious hungry, Dick,’ sung out Mr Rogers, ‘I’m thinking of going below to find some grub.’

“‘No, no; just stay safe where you are, sir,’ I answered. ‘If you let go your hold, maybe that moment we shall have a sea come aboard us and carry you away with it, or if the companion hatch is lifted it may make its way below and swamp us.’

“‘All right, Dick; we can manage to hold out for a few hours more,’ cried the other two. ‘Don’t think of going, Tom; we wouldn’t have you run the risk for our sakes.’

“From the gnawings in my own stomach I knew that the poor youngsters must be very sharp set. However, it seemed to me that the wind was somewhat less than it had been, and I hoped that in a few hours more the hurricane would be over, or that we should be out of it. I told them so, and I soon heard them laughing and talking as if nothing particular out of the way was happening. Well, in a couple of hours or so the wind fell, and I saw that we must have the foresail set, or run the chance of being pooped. I told them what I wanted, and casting off their lashings they all sprang together to the halyards, and soon had the sail hoisted and the sheet belayed. They then made their way aft.

“‘Now I think we’ve earned our breakfasts,’ says Mr Rogers, and slipping off the companion hatch he dived below, while the other two stood ready to draw it over again, in case a sea should come aboard us. He quickly returned with some bread, meat, a bottle of wine, and a basket of fruit. They wouldn’t touch anything till they had fed me, for they said I had had the hardest work, and saved their lives. My hands, you see, had still enough to do in working the tiller, and my eyes, too, for that matter, in keeping a watch on the seas; so all I could do was just to open my mouth and let them put the food into it. All I wanted was enough to keep body and soul together, and I then advised them

to get back to the shrouds, and to make themselves fast as before, as there was no saying what might happen while the sea was tumbling about in its present fashion. ‘You must take a swig of the wine first,’ says Mr Rogers, in his cheery way, just like the lieutenant, his brother, holding the bottle to my mouth. I’d got a gulp or two of the liquor, keeping my weather eye open all the time, when I saw an ugly big sea come rolling up on our quarter. I sung out to the other two to hold fast to the companion hatch for their lives, while I got a grip of Mr Tom between one of my arms and the tiller. I couldn’t avoid the sea. Right over us it came, pouring down the still open hatchway, and sweeping across the deck. I had Mr Tom safe enough, though the breath was half squeezed out of his body; but I was afraid the others would have been torn from their hold. Like brave-hearted youngsters as they are they had held fast, though over head and ears in water. ‘Och, but the venison has gone on a cruise,’ sung out Mr Desmond, as soon as the sea had passed clear of us, ‘and some big brute of a shark will be making his breakfast of it.’

“‘Better that he should eat that than us, Paddy,’ said Mr Rogers; ‘don’t let’s fret about it, for, to say the truth, it was rather too high to be pleasant.’ He was right as to that; for the bits he put into my mouth had a very curious taste; but it wasn’t a time to be particular, so I had taken what was given me, and said nothing. I was thankful when I saw that the three lads had safely lashed themselves to the starboard shrouds as before. The day was wearing on, and I was beginning to feel that I’d rather not have to stand on my legs much longer, though the hope that the hurricane would quickly blow itself out kept me up. At last, I calculated about seven bells in the afternoon watch, it fell almost a dead calm, though we happily kept steerage way on the craft, for the sea tumbled about almost as madly as before, and it was a difficult job to prevent its breaking aboard. However we managed to set the mainsail, and I hoped we should soon have smoother water.

“One never can tell what tricks the wind will play. Suddenly, as you may see sometimes a hulking giant knock down a little chap with a blow of his fist, a sea struck the drogher on the starboard beam; and before a sheet could be let fly over she went. It was a mercy that the three young gentlemen were holding on at the time to the weather rigging. They all scrambled in a moment on to the chains, where I, making my way along the bulwarks, quickly joined them. I can’t say that they were frightened exactly, but they didn’t like it, which was but natural; no more did I.

“‘What’s going to happen next?’ asked Mr Rogers quite calmly.

“‘The hatches being on, the craft won’t fill, and maybe when the squall has passed over another sea may right her,’ I answered, as I saw that there was a chance of that happening.

“The squall didn’t last ten minutes, and directly afterwards there was a flat calm, and the sea went down wonderfully fast. Still the drogher lay over on her side and gave no signs of righting. Mr Desmond proposed cutting away the mast.

“‘That mightn’t help us,’ I answered; ‘I’ve an idea that the ballast has shifted over to port, and that with the water in her keeps the craft down. We must wait till the sea is smooth, and then we’ll get the companion hatch off and have a look below; we may be able to bale the water out, and shift enough of the ballast to right her; but as long as the sea is running it’s safer to trust to Providence, and to hold on with hands and teeth where we are, and—

“‘Poor Spider, I’m afraid he’ll have an uncomfortable time of it, left all alone in the dark below, and not knowing what can have happened to the vessel,’ said Mr Rogers, as if he thought the monkey more to be pitied than himself or us.

“The poor brute had been made fast below, to keep him out of mischief, when they went on shore, and had remained there since. I had an idea that he was very likely drowned if he was over on the lee side, but I didn’t say so for fear of grieving his young masters. Thinks I to myself, if we are hard up for grub, whether dead or alive, he’ll serve us for a meal or two at all events.

“Having no longer the steering of the craft to attend to, as evening drew on I began to feel very drowsy, and it made me fear that the youngsters, who would be getting sleepy, likewise, to a certainty might drop off into the water and be drowned, or be grabbed by a shark. The thought had no sooner come into my head than I saw one of the brutes swimming by and casting his two wicked eyes up at us. I roused myself up in a moment, and getting hold of some lashings, pointed him out to the young gentlemen. When I told them what I feared, they did not object to my making them all fast to the chains with their legs along the shrouds. I afterwards secured myself close to them on the bulwarks. I hadn’t been there many minutes before I went off into a sort of sleep, though it wasn’t exactly sleep, because I knew where I was, and never forgot what had happened. I could hear, too, the voices of my young companions, trying by talking to keep each other awake, though it was a hard job for them, poor lads. The seas, do ye see, had been washing over us all the time, and even now, though they broke less heavily than before, pretty often nearly smothered us, but even they could not make me keep my eyes open. Darkness soon came down upon the ocean, but it was growing calmer and calmer, and I could feel that the vessel was no longer tossed and tumbled about, while the voices of the midshipmen ceased to sound in my ears. I tried to rouse myself up. That was, however, more than I could do, and at last I dropped off into a real sound sleep. When I awoke the vessel lay as quietly as in a mill-pond, and not a sound was to be heard except the soft lap of the water against the hull. I couldn’t even hear the breathing of the midshipmen, and for a moment the dreadful thought came to me that they were dead, or had got loose somehow or other, and had slipped into the sea. I lifted myself up so that I could reach the shrouds. There they were safe enough, and all as fast asleep as they could have been in their hammocks. I wouldn’t awake them, as I thought the sleep would do them good. I myself had no wish to go to sleep again, so I sat up watching the bright stars shining out of the clear sky, and thinking whether it would be possible to get the vessel righted; and if not, what chance there was if we could form a raft of reaching one of the islands, or falling in with a passing vessel. To my mind a man’s a coward who cries die while there’s life in him, and I determined, with the help of Him who I knew right well looks after poor Jack, to do my best to save myself and the young midshipmen. These things gave me enough to think about for the rest of that long night. At last the light of day came back, the stars grew dim, and presently the sun, like a huge ball of fire, with a blaze of red all around him over the sky, rose out of the glass-like sea. I knew that it was going to be blazing hot, and that we should feel it terribly. The midshipmen awaking, were much surprised to find that it was light again already, and couldn’t believe that they had slept through the night. Having cast off their lashings they began to move about to stretch their cramped limbs, not that there was much space for that.

“‘Now, messmates,’ said Mr Rogers, ‘there’s one thing we ought to do before we think of anything else, and that is, to thank God for having preserved us through the night, and to pray to Him to protect us, and to take us ashore in safety. Needham, you’ll join us, I know.’

“‘Of course, I will, sir,’ says I, and well pleased I was to hear the youngster speak in that way without any shamefacedness. It was just what I’d been thinking, for if a man dare not ask God to help him, he must be in a bad way indeed.

“Without another word we all knelt on the side of the vessel, and a right good honest prayer did Mr Rogers offer up. No parson or bishop either could have prayed a better, though he might have put more words into it. The young gentleman, do ye see, knew exactly what we all wanted, and that’s just what he asked God to give us, and no more.

“‘And now, Needham, what do you consider is the first thing we ought to do?’ said Mr Rogers, as soon as he had finished.

“‘Let us try and get some water,’ sang out Mr Desmond. ‘I’m terribly thirsty, I could drink a bucketful if I had it.

“‘So could I, for my thrapple is as dry as a dustbin,’ added Mr Gordon.

“‘As to that, I am not better than either of you,’ says Mr Rogers, ‘but I thought that I’d try to hold out as long as I could.’

“‘Well,’ says I, ‘I’ll make my way below and see what I can bring up. Water will be better than wine or spirits, and if I can find any you shall have it.’

“‘No, no, Needham, you stay where you are,’ says Mr Rogers. ‘Just pass a rope aft and I’ll make it fast round my waist till I can get the hatch off. The water is pretty well up to the coamings already, and my weight won’t make the difference which yours might.’

“He seemed to think that there was more danger than I did—that the weight of a single man might capsize the craft altogether. I believed that if we had all gone below together it wouldn’t have mattered. However, I did as he ordered me. It was a sliding-hatch, you remember, and he soon got it off far enough to let himself down into the cabin. We all sat watching for him to come back again. At last I heard his voice singing out to me to hoist away. Looking down I saw him seated on the companion hatch with Master Spider, the monkey clinging to his neck while he was making fast the end of the rope to a basket full of all sorts of things which he had collected below. I hauled it up, and he followed with Spider.

“‘Water! water!’ cried the others.

“‘I couldn’t find a drop,’ he answered, ‘but I’ve brought some oranges and a bottle of wine. It’s the last in the locker, so we must take care how we use it.’ There was just one orange apiece, and for my part I’d have given a five-pound note for mine rather than go without it. As to the wine we couldn’t touch it, though we were glad of some before long. The only solid food we had was biscuit, for the fish and venison had gone bad, and we were not sharp set enough to eat it; but then we had, besides the oranges, several sorts of fruit; their outlandish names I never can remember. Though they didn’t put much strength into us they were what we wanted, seeing that we had no water to moisten our throats. Still, while they and the biscuits lasted, and the monkey Spider to fall back on, I wasn’t afraid of starving, though I didn’t say anything to the young gentlemen about him, as I knew they wouldn’t like the thoughts of feeding on their pet. When we had finished our breakfasts we began to talk of what we had best do. We had the choice of three things, to try and right the drogher, to make a raft out of her spars and upper works, or to sit quietly where we were till some vessel should come by and take us off. At last I got leave from Mr Rogers to go below, and judge what chance there was of righting the craft. I soon saw that without buckets we should never be able to bale her out. There wasn’t one to be found, nor would the pump work, while, as I had guessed, the ballast had shifted over to the port side, so till we could free her of water we couldn’t reach that; besides, it would have been a difficult matter to get it back to its place. As I was groping about in the hold I came upon two water-casks. Here is a prize I thought, but the bungs were out, and the only water in them was salt. At last I went back with my report.

“‘Then we must set to and build a raft,’ said Mr Rogers, nothing daunted.

“‘How are we to cut away the spars and bulwarks without axes?’ asked Mr Gordon. ‘It would be a hard job to do it with our knives and hands.’