Chapter 11

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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"Well, Marmaduke, my boy, we are having a jolly cruise of it," observed McAllister one afternoon, as we walked the deck together, having just partaken of an especially good dinner, dressed by our most polite and obsequious prisoner, Lieutenant Preville. "If we could but fall in with two or three more fat prizes we should be able to set up as independent gentlemen when we get back home again, and I should be able to regain the lands of the McAllisters from the southern churl who has dared to take possession of them."

"They are not very extensive, then, I conclude," I observed. "A midshipman's share of prize-money, even for the richest galleon of old Spain, would not go far to purchase much of an estate."

"Extensive! my boy; I wish you could just come north and have a look at them," exclaimed McAllister. "You can't see from one end to the other, and there is the finest of fine old towers, which would be perfectly habitable, if it were not for the want of windows, and floors, and doors, and other woodwork; and as to the lands, to be sure there is a somewhat considerable preponderance of bog and moor, but oats and potatoes grow finely on the hillsides. Ah, my boy, I know well enough what's what--the value of rich pastures and corn-fields--but there's nothing like the home of one's ancestors--the heathery hills of old Scotland--for all that."

My shipmate spoke with deep feeling, though he had begun in a half-joking vein. Our prisoner joined us, and put a stop to the conversation. He offered to go down for his guitar, and, returning with it on deck, he touched the strings, and sang a light French song with much taste and with a fair voice. We complimented him on his performance.

"Ah, you like singing; I will sing to you night and day, ma foi," he observed. "It is a satisfaction to a man of sentiment to give pleasure to his friends, and I look upon you as my friends in spite of our relative positions. They arise from the circumstances of war. We are friends--true friends--why should we be otherwise?" Then he resumed his guitar and sang again as gaily as before.

We and our consort kept close together, and as the sailing powers of the two vessels were pretty equal, there was little danger of our being separated. Two days after this it fell a dead calm. There we lay, not quite steady, but rolling gently from side to side, moved by the scarcely perceptible and glassy undulations which rose under our keels. The sails went flap-flap against the masts in the most senseless manner, till McAllister ordered them to be furled to prevent the wear and tear they were undergoing. As to the heat, I had never before felt anything like it in the tropics. We could have baked a leg of mutton almost, much more fried a beefsteak, on the capstan-head, while below a dish of apples might easily have been stewed. I remembered Mr Johnson's account of the heat in the West Indies, and began to fear that he had not exaggerated it. It went on growing hotter and hotter, or we felt the heat more and more. The smoke from the chimney of the galley went right up in a thin column, and hung in wreaths over our heads, while that from our cigars, being of a lighter character, ascended above our noses, and finally disappeared in the blue, quivering air. The Espoir lay within hail of a speaking-trumpet, and as we had nothing else to do, we carried on an animated conversation with each other, not very dignified, but highly amusing to all concerned. We had better have held our tongues, I suspect. Any departure from discipline is bad. The Frenchmen who were on deck soon began to imitate our example, and, as they mostly spoke in a patois or jargon which we, of course, could not understand, we did not know what they were saying. I thought I saw a peculiar expression on the faces of some of them, especially when now and then they glanced round and looked at our men. At last, I told McAllister that I fancied the Frenchmen were plotting treason, and that it would be wise to make them hold their tongues. He laughed at the notion, and asked if I supposed a set of frog-eating, grinning Frenchmen would dare to lift a finger against such a crew of bull-dog Englishmen as were our men.

"I cannot say they wouldn't," I answered; "they fought pretty toughly before they gave in."

"Very true, but they had a chance of victory then. Now the chances would be all against them, and they might expect to be pitched overboard if they failed," he replied, turning away as if he did not like the suggestion. He, however, soon after hailed Perigal, to say that he thought we had had enough of that, and then, turning to the French prisoners, told them to hold their tongues. After a time a mist seemed to be rising over the water, but the heat in no way decreased.

"There is something coming," I observed to McAllister. "What do you think?"

"Christmas, or perhaps a breeze," he answered, jokingly; "both to all appearances equally far off. I see one thing, though, which would make me rather unwilling to jump overboard." He pointed to a black triangular object, below which was a long shadowy form that was moving slowly round the ship. "What's that?"

"The boatswain's pet shark, I suppose," said I, laughing. "I should almost expect to see the Doris coming up with a breeze from the nor'ard."

"Just jump on his back, Merry, and see if he doesn't carry you off up to the frigate. It would astonish them not a little to see you coming," said McAllister.

"Thank you, I leave such wonderful performances to wonderful people like Mr Johnson," said I.

Just then the monster, turning up the white of his undersides, made a dart at a black bottle and a wisp of hay which had been thrown overboard in the morning. Down they went into his capacious maw.

"Unpleasant sort of pill. I wonder if the glass will cut him," observed McAllister.

I shuddered, for I could not help thinking what would have been the fate of any human being who might have happened to be overboard. The seamen had found out their enemy, and were talking about him, and watching his proceedings with suspicious glances. They have an idea that when a shark follows a vessel some one is about to die on board, and that he is waiting for the corpse. Sharks have been known to follow vessels for days together, but undoubtedly it is simply that they may feed on the offal thrown overboard. Of course if any seaman happens to die during the time, unless he is lashed up in a hammock with a shot at his feet, they are likely to be the gainers. I have, however, very often seen them following a ship when nobody has died. One example in support of a superstitious idea does more to confirm it in the minds of the ignorant than a hundred examples on the opposite side do to weaken the belief in it.

Not long after this, Perigal hailed McAllister, and, pointing round to the sky, told him that he did not like the look of things. He then signed to us to strike our topmasts, and make everything snug aloft. At the same moment the crew of the Espoir were seen swarming aloft to shorten sail. We had our sails lowered. Hands were now sent aloft to furl them carefully, and to strike upper yards and topmasts. While the hands were thus engaged, as I was standing by the compass to ascertain the direction of the schooner's head, I saw Perigal point to the westward, and make a sign to the men aloft to hurry with their work. I did the same, though we, having less to do, were ahead in our proceedings of our consort. I saw enough to convince me that there was no time to be lost. The blackest of black clouds had gathered with a rapidity scarcely credible, and were rushing on towards us with headlong speed. It was not as is often the case when a storm is brewing; a few light clouds come first like the skirmishers in advance of an army; but the whole body came on in one dense mass, the sea below it foaming, and hissing, and curling with a noise which we could hear even before the wind reached us. A hurricane was coming, and one of no ordinary violence.

"Lie down! lie down, off the yards, all of you," shouted McAllister. The men required no second command. A glance at the quickly changing sky and water told them what was approaching. They slid down the rigging, and in silence awaited the bursting of the tornado. The Frenchmen who were on the deck looked pale and anxious, as if they dreaded the consequences of the hurricane. Bambrick and another good hand went to the helm. A part of the fore-staysail was hoisted, just to pay the vessel's head off. We were not kept long in suspense. With a loud hiss and roar like thunder the hurricane struck us. The schooner heeled over to the gale; I thought she was going over altogether. Many fancied so likewise, and cries of terror escaped from several of the Frenchmen. Lieutenant Preville uttered an expression of annoyance at the pusillanimity of his countrymen.

"They are brave garcons, though," he exclaimed, "and fight like heroes with mortal foes of flesh and blood; but they are not like you bull-dog English, who fear neither mortals nor spirits, and would do battle with the prince of darkness himself, if you met him in the open seas on board any craft he might be able to charter."

What more the lieutenant might have said I do not know, for the howling of the tempest drowned his voice. The foaming seas began to rush up the schooner's deck, and dense masses of spray flew over her. I thought, indeed, that she was gone; but, recovering from the effects of the first blast, she rose a little when her staysail felt the force of the wind. Round went her head: another blast stronger than the first blew the canvas from the bolt-ropes, but the desired effect had been produced, and away she flew under bare poles through the ocean of seething foam; the wind howling and shrieking, and the waters hissing and roaring as we passed over them.

Till that moment, all my attention having been concentrated on our own craft, I had not thought of our consort. I now looked out for her. She was not to be found in the direction where I expected to see her. I cast my eyes round anxiously on every side. The atmosphere was now so dense with spray torn up from the surface of the ocean that the extent of our horizon was much limited. Yet I fancied that we must still be close to our consort. In vain I looked round. I called out to McAllister and told him my fears. Certain it was that the Espoir was nowhere to be seen. I felt very sad. I could not help dreading that the Espoir had been struck as we were, and being less prepared, had capsized and gone over. I thought what had become of poor Grey, my constant firm friend, and honest Perigal, and I pictured to myself how his young wife would mourn his loss, and whether, if I ever got home, I should have to go and tell her how it had happened. I remembered that huge monster of a shark, which had been swimming round the vessels, and I bethought me that he had come for them if not for us. I was not singular, for when the Espoir was missed by others, as was soon the case when they began to lose fear for themselves, I heard Bambrick observe to his companion at the helm, "I thought so; I know'd that brute hadn't come for nothing; they always knows better nor we or the port-admiral himself what's in the wind. He was as sartain sure as cheese is cheese that this here Harry-cane was a coming, long before we'd even a notion that it was a brewing."

The other seaman shook his head with a grave look, as he answered, "I wonder how many of them poor fellows he's got down his hungry maw by this time!"

Such was the style of conversation among our men. What the Frenchmen were saying I do not know. They very soon recovered their spirits and courage, and began laughing and chattering, and dancing about the deck in higher spirits than ever. Perhaps they did not always intend to move, but the now fast rising seas gave the lively little vessel sudden and unexpected jerks, which sent them jumping forward or aft, or from side to side, whenever they happened not to be holding on to anything. Still I did not feel that we were altogether free from danger. The hurricane blew fiercer and fiercer, the sea also got up rapidly, and threw the vessel about in a way which made it very difficult to steer before it. Fortunately our topmasts were housed, or they would have been jerked overboard. I asked McAllister what he proposed doing.

"Doing! Why, of course, scud on till the hurricane has blown itself out," he answered.

"But doesn't the wind sometimes shift in a hurricane, and blow more furiously from another quarter?" I asked.

"Of course it does, and perhaps it will, and we shall be blown back again as far as we have come," he said, taking a look at the compass.

"But suppose it was to blow us back farther than we have come," I observed.

"Merry, just go and bring the chart to the companion stair," was his answer. "It will be blown away if we have it on deck, and I cannot go below just now."

I brought the chart, at which he took a rapid glance. Eastward, as we were now driving, we had plenty of sea-room, and in a wholesome craft like ours, there was nothing to fear; but westward there was the coast of Central America, fringed by rocks and sandbanks, on which many a noble ship has been stranded since Columbus discovered the western world.

"It is to be hoped that the wind will not shift," he answered. "It does not always. Don't let us anticipate evil."

Lieutenant Preville inquired what we were talking about. We told him. He shrugged his shoulders. "Patience; the fortune of war; we seamen must always be subject to such reverses," he remarked.

"The Frenchman takes things easily," observed McAllister. "I wish that I could do so."

I had never before pictured to myself what a West India hurricane really was. At times I thought that the schooner would be blown fairly out of the water. How her masts remained in her was a puzzle, from the way she jerked and rolled, and plunged madly onward, struggling away from the seas which seemed every moment as if they would catch and overwhelm her. Even though thus flying before the gale, we felt as if we should be blown down, had we not kept a good grip of the bulwarks, and those forward had hard work to make their way aft. Suddenly there was a lull. The effect was curious; I can liken it to nothing but when, by shutting a thick door, some loud hubbub of angry voices is no longer heard. The schooner tumbled about just as much as before, or even more, but, instead of being driven onward, she was thrown madly from wave to wave, backwards and forwards; it seemed as if they were playing a game of ball with her. McAllister ordered me to hurry forward and to get some head sail on the schooner. Some of the lower parts of the fore-staysail remained. There was no time to bend a new one. There had been a little wind before; it now fell a dead calm; the smoke of a cigar would have ascended as it had done a few hours before. It proved but treacherous: I positively jumped from the suddenness with which the hurricane again struck the vessel, and, as we had apprehended, from the eastward. Happily the sail this time produced the desired effect, turning her head from the wind, and then away the canvas flew from the bolt-ropes far off upon the gale. Onward we drove as before, still more tossed and tumbled. Had our friend, Colonel Pinchard, been with us, he would have had some reason to complain of the _mal de mer_. The Audacieuse was a strong, tight vessel, or she would have sprung a dozen leaks, and gone down with all the knocking about she got. She, however, remained as dry as a bottle. Still, as we rushed on, every instant approaching nearer and nearer the rocks and sandbanks of the coast of Central America, our anxiety increased. It was vain to hope that we could heave-to, or in any way stop our mad career. We had done all that could be done, and had now only calmly to await our fate, whatever Providence had designed that should be. It is under such circumstances as this, that the courage and resignation of men are most severely tried. All action has of necessity ceased, the body is at rest, the mind has now full time for thought. Numberless acts of the past life rise up to the recollection, many a deed, and thought, and word, which must bring either pain or fear; principles undergo a test which the wrong and baseless cannot bear. Death looks terribly near. What can stand a man in good stead on an occasion like this? One thing, and one thing alone--sound Bible religion; a firm faith in Him who took our nature upon Him, and died for our sins, and rose again, that He might present us, rising with Him, faultless before the throne of Grace. I say that is the only thing that can make a man feel perfectly happy under such circumstances. I have seen many men stand boldly up to meet expected death, who have no such hope, no such confidence; but their cheeks have been pale, their lips have quivered, and oh, the agony depicted in their eyes. The soul was speaking through them, and told of its secret dread. Let no one be deceived by the outward show, the gallant bearing of a man. Too often, all within is terror, horror unspeakable of the near-approaching unknown future. We had still a long way to drive before we could reach the neighbourhood of the dreaded shoals and reefs. Most of the men probably were ignorant of the risks we were about to encounter. Happily, perhaps, for seamen, they seldom realise danger till it presents itself palpably before them. The Frenchmen, after a time gaining confidence, began to laugh and joke as before. Our men stood calm and grave at their posts. Not that they saw danger or felt fear, but that they were engaged in their duty, and knew that much depended on their steadiness and courage. Night came on; it was far more trying than the day. I felt very tired, but as to turning in, that was out of the question. Hours after hours we flew on, plunging headlong through the darkness, and often, to my excited imagination, strange shrieks and cries seemed to come out of the obscurity. Once as we flew on, as I stood watching black masses of water rising on our quarter and rolling on abeam of us, I fancied that I saw a large ship, her hull with her lofty masts towering up to the skies, close to us. It appeared as if another send of the sea would have driven us aboard her. I thought that I could distinguish people leaning over the bulwarks watching us with longing eyes. There was a gush of waters from her scuppers. I could hear the clang of the pumps; she was already deep in the water, rolling heavily; cries arose from her decks; lower and lower she sank. I watched her with straining eyes. A dark sea rose up between her and the schooner. She was no longer where she had been; the tracery of her masts and rigging appeared for an instant above the water, and then sank for ever. I uttered a cry of regret. McAllister shouted to me, and asked me why I had gone to sleep. I declared that I had been wide awake, and told him what I had seen.

"You've sharper eyes than any one else," he answered. "You must have been asleep; we passed no ship, depend on that."

I insisted on it that we had, and that he had not been looking out as I had; and from that day to this day I am uncertain which was right. I must, however, own that none of the men had seen the sinking ship; but then I hold that neither were they looking out, and it was but a few moments that she was in sight.

"Had all on board seen her we could have rendered her hapless crew no assistance," I thought to myself, "so it does not signify."

On we drove. I never spent a more trying night at sea. I thought the morning never would come or the gale end. The morning, however, did come, as it always does for those who wait for it. We were still driving on furiously, and as the cold grey light of the early dawn broke on the world of waters, the tossing ocean seemed more foam-covered and agitated than even on the previous day. I could see no signs of the cessation of the hurricane, nor did McAllister. Bambrick, however, observed that he thought there was less wind, and that it blew with more steadiness than before. The Frenchmen gave no opinion; indeed, most of them were below asleep. I worked my way forward to look out ahead. I stood by the side of the man stationed there for some minutes.

"The sea is terribly broken away on the starboard bow there," I said.

"Yes, sir, I don't like the looks of it," was the answer, as we continued gazing. We did not speak again for some minutes. It was as I feared though.

"Breakers! breakers ahead!" we both simultaneously shouted. "Breakers! breakers on the starboard bow!"

"Starboard the helm," cried McAllister, in a deep tone, without the slightest sign of agitation. It was doubtful if the vessel would feel the effect of the helm sufficiently to prevent her drifting bodily to leeward. On we drove. Another moment might see the vessel and all on board hurled to destruction. The stoutest vessel ever built could not hold together for two minutes should she strike on rock or sandbank with the awful sea then running dashing over her. I drew my breath short and clenched my teeth as we approached the broken water. The spray flew over our mastheads. Still we did not strike; the dreaded breakers appeared abeam. We had passed the head of a bank or reef. I saw some rocks and sand with a few trees in the distance, probably part of an island, easily discerned under ordinary circumstances above water. The danger for the moment was past, but there was no doubt that we had reached that portion of the Caribbean Sea most studded with dangers. Any moment we might again be among reefs. All we could do was to look out ahead, and pray and hope that we might escape them, as we had done the first. Half an hour or twenty minutes passed; some tall palm trees amid the misty atmosphere appeared bending to the storm on the larboard bow. It was doubtful whether reefs might not run out to the northward, and if so we could scarcely escape striking on them. The helm was, however, put to port, that we might pass as far as we could from the island. McAllister hurried forward, and, taking a steady look, declared his conviction that there was a reef to the northward of the island, and that if we could get a little sail on the schooner, we might run under its lee and ride in safety till the tempest was over. The very thought of the possibility of this renewed our spirits. The wind had certainly lessened. Rousing up the Frenchmen to lend a hand, we got a main-trysail and fore-staysail hoisted. The little craft heeled over, as once more putting the helm to starboard we brought her closer to the wind, in a way which made it seem probable that she would never recover herself; but she did, though; and now we flew on, plunging through the seas which broke on our larboard quarter, towards the island. We drove, of course, to leeward very fast, but still we had hopes that we might round its northern end before we drove past it altogether. Everybody on board stood clustered on deck, watching the island, and ever and anon casting anxious glances at the canvas. It stood now, though an hour before it would not have done so. We approached the island.

"Breakers! breakers on the starboard bow! breakers on the larboard bow!" shouted the men forward. I caught sight of some less broken water ahead. We steered towards it. In another moment our fate would be decided. We flew on; the sea broke terrifically on either hand, but the schooner did not strike. The water became calmer--the island grew more and more abeam. We flattened in the canvas, and, standing towards the land, in another ten minutes found ourselves in a sheltered bay, where, though our mastheads still felt the force of the gale, the wind scarcely reached us on deck. Our anchor was dropped and we rode in safety. I could have fallen on my knees and thanked Heaven for our merciful preservation from so many dangers, but such an act was not in accordance with our usual habits, and I was kept back from fear of what my companions would say. How miserable and contemptible is such a feeling! We are not afraid of displeasing our all-beneficent Creator, or appearing ungrateful for His mercies, and we are afraid of the ridicule of our fellow-men, or even of a sneer from the lips of those we despise the most. I dare say, if the truth were known, that McAllister, Bambrick, and others felt exactly as I did, and yet we were positively afraid of showing our feelings to each other. What a contrast did our present position exhibit to the wild tossing to and fro, and the strife of elements we had just passed through. Here (for the wind dropped rapidly) all was calm and quiet; the mist dissipated, the sun shone forth, and the blue waters of the bay sparkled as they rippled gently on the light yellow sand, strewed with numberless beautifully coloured shells; while numerous tall palm trees and shrubs of lower growth formed a bright fringe of green round the shores of the bay.

As we wanted water, and all agreed that some fresh cocoa-nuts would be very pleasant, I took a boat with four hands, two Englishmen and two Frenchmen, and, accompanied by Lieutenant Preville, pulled on shore. I also took a fowling-piece, in the hopes of getting a shot at some birds. There was no lack of cocoa-nuts, which the hurricane had blown off, on the ground, many of the trees themselves being laid prostrate. We had to hunt about some time before we found a spring. At length we came on one overshadowed by trees, where, by clearing away the ground with our spades, we could fill our casks. I with the two Englishmen was still at the spring, when the French lieutenant and his two countrymen were rolling down a cask to the boat. I followed, and when yet at some distance, I saw the Frenchmen step into the boat and begin shoving off. I ran on, and, having some bullets in my waistcoat pocket, I dropped one down the barrel of my fowling-piece, which I presented at the lieutenant's head, ordering him to come back. He did not at first pay any attention to my threats; I hailed again, and told him that I had loaded with a bullet, and that I did not approve of the joke he was playing. I, at the same time, saw some of the Frenchmen on board the schooner making signs to him. Suddenly he turned round, as if he had only just seen me, and the boat pulled back to the shore.

"I demand a thousand pardons, monsieur," he exclaimed, with the blandest of smiles. "I was only joking, but I am afraid from your countenance, that my vivacity carried me too far." He went on for a considerable time in this style, till my two men came down with their cask, and then, shoving off, we returned on board. I asked McAllister if he had observed anything peculiar in the behaviour of the prisoners while I was on shore.

"I was below for a short time, and when I came on deck I found them clustering on the rigging forward," he answered, carelessly. "I called them down, as it is against orders, and they immediately obeyed."

I told him of the odd conduct of Lieutenant Preville, but he observed that he thought it was only the Frenchman's joke, though it might be wise to keep a stricter look-out on the prisoners than we had lately done. We had little time however, for, pretty well worn out with the fatigues we had endured for the last four-and-twenty hours, we were glad to take the opportunity of being in a snug harbour to turn in and go to sleep. Before doing so, however, I told Bambrick, who had charge of the deck, to direct the sentry placed over the prisoners to keep his weather eye open, lest they should play us any trick. Tops are said to sleep soundly; I know from experience that midshipmen do. From the moment I put my head on the pillow it seemed but a moment that I was roused up to keep the morning watch. I found a light breeze blowing from the southward. It would not do to lose this opportunity of getting clear out to sea again; so I sent down to McAllister, who soon joined me, and agreed that I was right. The anchor was weighed, and under easy sail we ran out through the passage by which we had entered this harbour of refuge. As I looked on the rocks on either side, now showing their dark heads above water, it seemed wonderful how, with so terrific a hurricane blowing, we had safely entered. How often thus through life are we steered safely by a merciful Providence, amidst hosts of dangers which we do not at the time see, and for protection against which we are but too often most miserably unthankful. We were soon clear of the island, but it was necessary to keep a very bright look-out to avoid running on the reefs which we had before escaped. Several times we saw rocks on either hand, and breakers still dashing wildly up, showing that reefs or banks were there, and more and more astonished were we that we had passed between them in safety. Lieutenant Preville shrugged his shoulders.

"It would need a good pilot to carry a vessel in safety between those reefs as we came yesterday," he observed. "But, after all, the best pilot is the Goddess Chance, who guided us."

"Chance, monsieur! Chance!" exclaimed McAllister, with a vehemence in which he seldom indulged. "I do not believe that there is such a thing as chance, much less a goddess. I am not going to discuss the subject, only don't talk to me of chance."

The Frenchman again shrugged his shoulders, hoped that he had not given offence, and walked away, humming a tune. He continued, however, as polite and obliging as at first. He declared that we wanted a good dinner after our labours, and insisted on cooking it. He outshone himself, and with some shell-fish we had picked up, and two birds I had shot, produced some wonderfully delicious dishes. The wind held fair, but it was light, and it required us constantly to be on the look-out to thread our way among the dangers which surrounded us. Our anxiety, too, was very great for the fate of our consort. She was nowhere to be seen, and our fears were increased that she had gone down when first struck by the hurricane. We did not breathe freely till we were well out at sea, clear of all reefs and shoals. Lieutenant Preville especially complimented us on the seamanship we had displayed, and assured us that it was a great satisfaction to him to have been our shipmate through so trying an event. McAllister and I now agreed that if we did not fall in with the Espoir it was undoubtedly our duty to return to Jamaica. We accordingly cruised about for two days, and then shaped a course for that island. The next night it was my middle watch on deck. It had struck seven bells, and I was contemplating the satisfaction I should feel in turning in and going to sleep, when I suddenly found the French lieutenant walking by my side. This was against rule, as none of the prisoners were allowed to come on deck at night without the permission of the officer of the watch. He apologised, saying that he was oppressed with the heat, and knew that I would allow him to come. In a little time he professed to see a light ahead, and induced me to walk forward to look at it. Just as I was abreast of the foremast I found my arms seized, a gag thrust into my mouth, and a handkerchief bound over my eyes, so that I could neither struggle, cry out, nor see what was going forward. The horrible conviction came on me that the Frenchmen were attempting to recapture the vessel. I hoped that McAllister might be awake, as he was so soon to relieve me. The suspense, however, was terrible. I found myself secured to the bulwarks, and left to my cogitations. I augured the worst, because there was no cry; no shots were fired. There I sat, it seemed an age, listening for some sounds. I was almost sure that the Frenchmen had mastered all our people on deck, even Ned Bambrick. At length I heard one of the French seamen speaking; he was making a report to Lieutenant Preville. A loud cheer was the response, "Vive l'Empereur! vive la France!" I knew full well by this, that they were in entire possession of the vessel. My heart sank within me. It was bad enough to lose our prize; it would be worse to be thrown overboard, or to have our throats cut. I did not, however, think that the Frenchmen would do that. They would take very good care, though, that we did not regain the vessel. Such being the case, I really felt almost indifferent as to what became of us. After all the civility we had shown Lieutenant Preville, I thought that he might as well have released me from my uncomfortable position, with my arms lashed tightly behind me, and a gag in my mouth. I heard some orders issued in French, and the blocks rattling, and yards creaking as if the sails were being trimmed, and the schooner's course altered. Hour after hour passed by; at last I fell asleep with a crick in my neck, and the sound of a Frenchman's voice in my ear.

"Oh, pauvre miserable!" said the voice; "why we forgot him."

Such was the fact, not very complimentary to my importance. I had been overlooked. The speaker took the handkerchief off my eyes. It was daylight, and the schooner was running under all sail before a fair breeze. Lieutenant Preville soon appeared, and, telling the men to cast me loose, invited me, in a tone of irony, I fancied, to join my brother officer at breakfast with him.

Poor McAllister looked dreadfully cast down. We took our seats in silence. Our host, who had yesterday been our guest, was in high spirits.

"It is the fortune of war, you well know, Monsieur Merry," he observed with a provoking smile. "Brave garcons like you know how to bear such reverses with equanimity. I can feel for you, though, believe me. Monsieur McAllister, I drink to your health, though I fear that you will not be a lieutenant as soon as you expected. Here, take some of this claret; it will revive your spirits."

My messmate seized the decanter of wine, which it is the custom of the French to have on the table at breakfast, and drank off a large tumbler. He drew a long breath after he had done so.

"You have the advantage of us this time undoubtedly, Monsieur Preville," he exclaimed bitterly; "but a day will come when we shall meet together on equal terms, and then, I hope, as brave men we shall fight it out to the death."

"With pleasure, assuredly," answered the Frenchman, with the politest of bows and smiles. "But in the mean time you must endeavour to restrain your impetuosity. At present it would be impossible to give you the satisfaction you require."

Poor McAllister ground his teeth; the words were taunting, but the expression of the Frenchman's countenance was more so. He would have sprung up and fought him then and there, with carving knives or any weapons at hand; but he restrained himself for a good reason. The lieutenant had a brace of loaded pistols by his side on the table, and two seamen stood on either side of us with loaded muskets, ready to blow out our brains, had we exhibited any signs of insubordination. McAllister went on eating his breakfast in silence.

The lieutenant pointed to the men and to his pistols.

"These are to do you honour," he observed. "They are the greatest compliment we can pay to your bravery. Unless you were handcuffed, I should not think myself safe a moment."

"We did not treat you so," I remarked.

"No, my friend," he said, smiling; "but you are prisoners, and I have regained command of my schooner."

I had not a word to say, but I resolved to profit by the lesson in my future career.

We were not allowed to communicate with any of our men, who were kept under strict watch forward, and only permitted to come on deck one at a time, in charge of a sentry. McAllister and I even had no opportunity of communicating with each other. When we got on deck, an armed man walked up and down by our side, and when we approached the compass, we were ordered away, so that we could not tell what course we were steering, except by guessing from the position of the sun.

Of course, with all the care the Frenchmen took, we had very little hopes of being able to retake the schooner. Neither could we tell what was to be done with us, nor did Lieutenant Preville think fit to inform us. After all our anticipations of prize-money and pleasure on shore, to have the inside of a French prison alone in view was very galling to our feelings. McAllister could do nothing but mourn his hard fate, and mutter threatenings against France and Frenchmen should he ever regain his liberty. Our only hope was that one of our own cruisers might fall in with the Audacieuse, and that we might thus be set at liberty. Consequently, whenever we were on deck we scanned the horizon anxiously, resolved, if we caught sight of a sail, not to give the Frenchmen too early a notice of the fact. At last one day we lay becalmed, while a thick mist had settled down over the ocean. I began to fear that we were going to have another hurricane. The Frenchmen did not think so, but took things very easily. The look-out came down from aloft, and, except the man who was placed as sentry over us, all hands employed themselves in mending their clothes and in other similar occupations. The man at the helm stood leaning on the tiller, lazily watching his companions. Suddenly to the westward I saw the mist lift, and, directly under the canopy thus formed, I distinctly saw a large ship standing down under all sail towards us. I was afraid by word or sign to point her out to McAllister, and dreaded lest the expression of my countenance might draw the attention of any of the crew towards her. She could not fail to pass close to us if she continued on the course she was steering. I only hoped that the mist would lift again, in time to show the Audacieuse to those on board her. The mist seemed, much to my satisfaction, to be settling down again, when at that instant Lieutenant Preville came on deck. His quick eye instantly detected the stranger. Having uttered some forcible expletives as to his opinion of his crew's conduct in not keeping a better look-out, he ordered the sails to be trimmed, and every stitch of canvas the schooner could carry to be set in readiness for the coming breeze, McAllister's and my eagerness may be easily conceived. We both had an idea that the ship was English, and that she would bring up the breeze. What was our disappointment, then, when we saw the schooner's sails rilling out. Away she glided before the breeze. The mist soon afterwards entirely cleared away, and exhibited the stranger about two miles off. By her build and the cut of her sails she was English. When she saw us, all sail was made on board her; but the Audacieuse had a fast pair of heels, and it was soon evident that she was leaving her pursuer far astern. Our hopes sank and sank, and by nightfall we had run her out of sight. When morning returned the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

Four days thus passed by. They were far from agreeable ones. Early on the sixth we found a substantial breakfast on the table, and after we had partaken of it with a suspicion that it was to be our last on board, we were ordered on deck. Here we found the schooner hove-to, and all our people assembled, while alongside lay one of the schooner's boats, with oars and masts and sails, a water cask, and some hampers and cases of provisions. There was a tarpaulin, and the boat was fitted in other respects, as far as she could be, to perform a long voyage.

"There, my friends," observed the lieutenant; "I wish to part with you on friendly terms. I do not desire to keep you as prisoners, as I am bound on a long cruise, and I hope that you may regain your own ship in safety. I will give you your course for Jamaica, which you may reach in a week; farewell."

We had not a word to say against this arrangement, so, thanking the Frenchman for his courtesy, we followed our men, who had before been ordered into the boat. Even McAllister could not help putting out his hand and exclaiming, "You are brave, as are most Frenchmen, but you are honest and kind-hearted, and that is more than I, for one, will say of some of your countrymen."

The lieutenant shrugged his shoulders and laughed as he shook our hands. He was in high good spirits, as well he might be. We stepped into the boat, and he waved his hand; we shoved off, and, bowing as politely as we could force ourselves to do, we hoisted our sails and shaped a course for Jamaica. The Audacieuse filled, and then, hauling her wind, stood away to the eastward. _

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