Chapter 12

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_ CHAPTER TWELVE.

It was satisfactory to be once more at liberty, but a voyage in an open boat across the Caribbean Sea, when it was possible that we might have to encounter another hurricane, was not altogether an exploit we should have undertaken if we had had our choice. However, as we had plenty of provisions and enough water, we had no reason to complain. We found, indeed, on looking over our stores to select some food for our dinner, that there were a dozen of claret and six bottles of brandy.

"Really, that fellow Preville is a trump," I exclaimed, as I poured out a glass of the former, and handed it to McAllister. "We'll drink his health, for he deserves it. Come, rouse up, my boy. It's good liquor; you'll not deny that."

"I'll drink his health and long life to him, that we may have a better chance of meeting together in mortal combat," answered my messmate, gloomily. "To have our hard-won prize stolen out of our hands in this way--it's more than I can bear. And to have to make our appearance on board the frigate without our vessel, and to report the loss of poor Perigal and the others, is even worse."

I did my best to rouse up McAllister, and to make him see matters in a more cheerful light, but it was no easy matter. He was ever dwelling on the fact that the prize had been placed under his charge, and that he had lost her. I was sometimes almost afraid that, if not watched at night, he would be jumping overboard, so gloomy did he become. Bambrick entertained the same idea also, I suspected, and I was glad to see that he watched him narrowly. We also did our best to amuse him, and I got the men to sing songs and spin yarns from morning till night. Only one story told by Ned Bambrick seemed to afford him much amusement.

"You must know, sir, when I was paid off during the last peace, I joined a South Sea whaler. You've heard tell of Botany Bay. Well, that's nowhere, or that's to say, it is not the place where they send prisoners. But there's a fine harbour near it, which they call Port Jackson, and up it there's a town which they call the Camp, but which has now got the name of Sydney. It's what they call a colony, that's to say, a good number of people of all sorts, besides convicts, goes out there, and they've a governor set over them, who rules the land just like any king. He's a right, real sort of a governor, to my mind, for he makes the laws and sees that they are obeyed, too. He won't stand no nonsense, and though he doesn't wear a wig and gown, like the judges at home, he sits in a court, and tries all them who doesn't do what they ought. He hears both parties, and, when they've done, he sings out, 'Haul in the slack of your jaw-tackle, and belay all that,' and then he goes for to say what each party must do, and he won't hear a word more from either of them. Well, as I was a saying, I joined a South Sea whaler. I can't say as how I had a pleasant time aboard, but it was better than others had. Our captain was one of them chaps as always does what they choose, and he pretty often chose to do what was very bad. He had a quarrel with the doctor of the ship, who was a very decent, well-behaved young man, and not wanting in spirit. Their disputes went on from bad to worse, so what does he do one day, but call four or five hands aft, fellows always ready to do any dirty work for a glass of grog, and getting hold of the poor doctor, clap him into one of the hen-coops. 'Now,' says he, 'you'll stay there till you beg my pardon.' 'I'll never beg your pardon,' says the doctor. 'I'll see if I can't make you,' says the captain. Well, would you believe it? the captain kept the poor doctor in there, day after day, and always took his meals to him himself, cut up into little bits so that he could eat them with a spoon. When he put in the plate, he always used to sing out, 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' just as he would have done if he was feeding the fowls. It aggravated the poor doctor, but he couldn't help himself. No one dared to speak to the captain, who always walked about with a brace of pistols in his belt, and swore he'd shoot any one who interfered with him. You may be sure I and others felt for the doctor when the savage used to go to him, with a grin on his face, and sing out, 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' The doctor would have been starved if he hadn't taken the food when the captain brought it him, with his 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!'

"At last one day, the doctor wouldn't stand it any longer; so says he, 'If you don't let me out of this, I'll make you sing out "Coopity! coopity!" from the other side of your mouth; so look out.' The captain laughed at him, and went on as before. However, we had to put into Port Jackson to refit, and it came to the ears of the governor that our skipper had a man shut up in a hen-coop; so he sent some soldiers aboard, and had the doctor taken out and brought ashore. Then there was a regular trial, and the governor heard what the doctor had to say, and the skipper and we had to say, and then he says, 'I decide that you, Captain Crowfoot, shall pay Dr McGrath two hundred golden guineas before you leave this court.' The captain, with many wry faces, began to make all sorts of excuses, but the governor wouldn't listen to one of them, and Captain Crowfoot had to get a merchant to hand him out two bags of guineas. 'Count them, captain, count them,' says the governor; and as the skipper counted them out on the table, the doctor stood by with another bag, and, as he swept them in with his hand, he kept singing out 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' Really it was pleasant to hear the doctor go on with his 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' Everybody in the court laughed, and, I believe you, the skipper was glad enough to get away when he had counted out all his money, and there was a regular cheer of 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' as he rushed out of the court." I had not seen McAllister laugh since we had lost the prize. He now gave way to a hearty peal, exclaiming, "Ha! ha! ha! I'll make the French lieutenant sing out 'Coopity! coopity! coopity!' before the world is many years older."

I need not describe all that occurred in the boat. We made fair way while the wind continued fair, and the weather favourable, but Jamaica still seemed a long distance off. It is a large island however, so that there was not much chance of our missing it. Four days had passed since we left the Audacieuse, when about midnight the wind suddenly shifted to the northward, and, what was worse, it came on to blow very hard. We closely reefed our sail, and hove-to, but the seas constantly broke over us, and we were obliged to keep two hands baling, or we should have been swamped. It was bad enough as it was, but it might come on worse, and then, would the boat swim? That was a question. That was a dreary night. The rain came down too--as it knows well how to do in the tropics. We had no want of water, but we unwisely neglected to fill our casks. Expecting to make a quick run, we had not stinted ourselves in the use of water. Of course the boat all this time was drifting to leeward, and we were losing all the distance we had made good during the last day or so; if the gale continued we should lose still more. At last daylight came, but the wind blew as hard as ever--half a gale at all events. Two whole days more it blew. At last it ceased, but it left us a hundred miles nearly further from our destination than when it commenced. This was bad enough, but though there was little of it remaining, that little was in our teeth. We however hauled our wind, and tried to beat up. When the sea went down we got the oars out, and, lowering the sails, pulled head to wind. It was greatly trying to the men, to know that after toiling away for hours, the entire distance gained might be lost in a quarter of the time. Still, as British seamen always do, they persevered. McAllister and I took our turn at the oars with the rest. For several days we laboured thus. The prospect of a quick run to Jamaica was over. Our provisions were running short--our water was almost expended. Hunger and thirst began to stare us in the face--things apt not only to stare people out of countenance, but out of their good looks. We at once went on short allowance, which grew shorter and shorter. As we gazed on each other's faces, we saw how haggard our shipmates had become, each person scarcely aware of his own emaciated appearance. At last we had not a drop of water remaining. Jamaica might still be a week's sail off, under favourable circumstances. The thirst we now endured was far worse than hunger, in that climate, with a hot sun burning down on our heads all day. Our throats got hotter and more parched every hour; we drew in our belts, and that silenced the cravings of hunger for a time, and we had some few bits of biscuit, and ham, and chocolate, but nothing we could do could allay our thirst. We dipped our faces in water, and kept applying our wet handkerchiefs to our mouths and eyes. We got most relief from breathing through our wet handkerchiefs; but it was only transient; the fever within burned as fiercely as ever. We had to work at the oars, when we could not keep our handkerchiefs wet. McAllister, like a brave fellow as he was, aroused himself, and endeavoured to encourage us to persevere. He especially warned the men against drinking salt water, telling them that it would be downright suicide, and that they might as well jump overboard and be drowned at once. We were certainly making way, and every hour lessening our distance to Jamaica. Again our hopes were raised. We had a few scraps of food to support life for two days more; but it was the water we wanted. I felt that I could not hold out another twenty-four hours. I must have water or die. The wind, however, came fair; we made sail, and ran merrily over the water--at least the boat did. Our feelings were heavy enough. Still I must say that we did our best to keep up each other's courage. Again the wind fell. It shifted. We might be driven back, and lose all the way we had gained. Dark clouds gathered--the feeling of the air changed. "Get the sail spread out flat, and the buckets, and cask, and mugs ready, boys," cried McAllister, "Open your mouths."

Scarcely had he spoken, when down came the rain. Oh, how delicious were the cool streams which flowed down our parched throats, and washed the salt from our faces. As the sail caught it, we let it run off into the receptacles we had prepared. Mugful after mugful we drained. We filled our cask and buckets. The rain ceased just as we had done so, and then it fell a dead calm. But we all felt refreshed and invigorated. New life seemed put into us, and the dry morsels of biscuit and ham, which we before could not swallow, were eaten with a relish. This deliverance from immediate death gave us hope; but still we might have again to encounter all the difficulties we had before gone through, before reaching land. Could we possibly survive them? I had often read of similar adventures and sufferings, and had been so much interested and amused, that I had felt considerably obliged to those who had gone through them, and really felt that I should like to have been with them; but I found the reality very different indeed. The terrible reality was presented to me with the gilding off--the romance vanished. My great wish was to escape from my present position. I have no doubt that all my companions felt with me.

The oars were again got out, and slowly we pulled to the northward. It was soon evident, however, that our strength was totally unequal to the task. One after the other the oars dropped from the men's feeble grasp. It was terrible to see strong men thus reduced to weakness. The calm continued. Even I began to despair. A dizziness came over me. I was nearly sinking to the bottom of the boat, but I resisted the impulse by a strong effort. "I'll not give in while life and sense remain." I fancied that I felt a puff of air on my cheek. I wetted my finger, and held it up. There was no doubt about it. A breeze was coming from the southward. I stood up as well as I was able, and looked astern for the expected blue line in the horizon. My heart leaped within me when my eye fell on the white sails of a vessel coming fast up with us. I shouted out the joyous news. My companions lifted up their heads, some scarcely understanding what I said. McAllister, who had been asleep, started up, and, with his hand over his eyes, gazed anxiously at the stranger. Bambrick, with a strength which surprised me, leaped up on the thwart, holding on by the mast, and, after looking for some time, he exclaimed, "She's the Espoir, as sure as my name is Ned Bambrick."

"The Espoir went down in the hurricane, and this craft is only some phantom come to delude and mock us," muttered McAllister, gloomily.

"Nonsense! you don't believe in such stuff," I exclaimed. "If yonder craft is the Espoir, it's plain the Espoir did not go down in the hurricane; and if the Espoir did go down in the hurricane, it is equally plain that the vessel in sight is not she."

"No, no, yonder craft is but a mocking phantom. I'm destined never to see my bonnie home and fair Scotland again," he answered, in a low voice, speaking more to himself than to me.

There was no use in then contradicting him. Half an hour or less would, I hoped, show that the stranger astern was a real palpable vessel, with human beings on board who would relieve our distress, and no phantom craft. Poor McAllister sank down in the stern-sheets again through weakness, but continued to gaze at the stranger, as we all did, with our eyeballs almost starting, in our eagerness, from their sockets.

The stranger proved to be a schooner; and, as she approached, she appeared to be more and more like the Espoir. There was at length no doubt about it, but McAllister still shook his head, muttering "A phantom--a phantom--but very like the craft--there's na doubt about that." I do not know what he might have thought when the schooner shortened sail, and glided up slowly alongside our boat. There were Perigal, and Grey, and Macquoid, and Bobus, and others, looking at us over the bulwarks. They must have known us by our uniforms to be English, but they had no idea we were their own shipmates. I guessed this by hearing Macquoid say to Bobus--

"Who can they be? Some poor fellows whose vessel must have gone down in the hurricane."

"Hand them up carefully, now," said Perigal to the men who descended into the boat.

We were all soon lifted on deck, for we were utterly unable to help ourselves, and we had positively to say who we were before we were recognised.

The foremost to rush forward and welcome me was Toby Bluff; and, forgetful of all the proprieties of the quarter-deck, he was very nearly throwing his arms round me and giving me a hearty hug, so overcome was he with joy at having the young squire restored to him.

"Oh! Measter Merry, they will be main glad at the Hall when they learns that after all you didn't go down in that mighty terrible hurricane we had t'other day," he exclaimed. "I'd never have gone back to see them-- that I wouldn't--I could have never faced them without the young measter!"

Warm and sincere, indeed, were the congratulations of all our friends. Macquoid at once took charge of us--ordered us all into our hammocks, and would not allow us to swallow more than the most moderate quantity of food, nor to listen nor talk. Owing to his judicious management, we all speedily got round, with the exception of McAllister, who had been the last to give in. His spirit and moral courage had supported him, till at length his physical powers yielded to his sufferings.

We carried on the breeze till we sighted Jamaica. Of course Perigal was very much vexed at hearing of the loss of the prize, but he did not blame McAllister, though, as he observed, it would have been wiser had we not placed so much confidence in our agreeable and plausible prisoner. The Espoir had lost sight of us in the hurricane from the first, and apprehensions for our safety had till now been entertained, and so our friends looked upon us as happily restored to them from the dead, and were not inclined to find undue fault with us. We found that they had been placed in even greater danger than we had, and had suffered more damage, but finally they were enabled to take shelter under an island more to the south than the one we gained. Here they remained for some time to refit, and thus were brought to our rescue just in time to preserve us from destruction. We were all tolerably recovered and presentable by the time we entered Port Royal harbour. Here we found the frigate almost ready for sea, and, to our satisfaction, Spellman with our first prize had arrived safely. Among those who most cordially welcomed me was Mr Johnson, the boatswain.

"We felt that hurricane even here, Mr Merry; and, thinking you might feel it too, I was anything but happy about you," he observed, shaking me by the hand. "I was once out in just such another--only it blew a precious deal harder. Some of our hands had their pigtails carried away, and two or three fellows who kept their mouths open had their teeth blown down their throats. It was the gale when the Thunderer and so many others of His Majesty's ships went down. You've heard of it, I dare say?"

I told him that I had read about it in a naval history we had on board, but that the account of the pigtails and teeth was not given.

"No, I dare say not; historians seldom enter as they ought into particulars," he answered, laughing.

Grey received an equally friendly welcome from Mr Johnson, with whom he was as great a favourite as I was. He made us give him an account of all our adventures, and amused himself with quizzing me, without ceasing, at having been so tricked by the French lieutenant. I believed, and do to this day, that Preville was civil and light-hearted from nature, and that it was only when he found us off guard that the idea of seizing the vessel occurred to him.

McAllister did not get off as easily as I did. Wherever he went he was quizzed for having been tricked by the Frenchman and losing his prize. He unfortunately could not stand quizzing, and, taking what was said too seriously, he became at times quite sulky and morose.

As the Doris had no hands to spare, the tender was laid up, and once more the frigate put to sea in search of the enemies of our country. We knew that several of their frigates were at sea, and we hoped to fall in with one of them. If we missed them, we were not likely to object to pick up a few rich merchantmen.

Soon after I rejoined, I was invited to the gun-room to give an account of my adventures on board the Audacieuse. Thinking he was going to be quizzed McAllister would not say a word on the subject. I was not so particular, and amused the officers very much with an account of the way in which the polite lieutenant used to dress our dinners for us, and used to sing and play for our amusement. Mr Fitzgerald seemed highly entertained.

"He must be a broth of a boy, indeed! If we ever catch him, we'll make him dress our dinners," he exclaimed, laughing.

He was himself stranger than ever, and, with his curious performances, I used to wonder how he managed not to get into more scrapes than he did. Our captain was much of the same opinion, for I heard him remark that he really was glad to get to sea, for fear Mr Fitzgerald should do something to bring himself into difficulty on shore. The words were reported to Mr Fitzgerald, who remarked--

"Och! where there's a will there's a way. We'll see what we can do, even out here on the big salt sea!"

Not long after this, during a light breeze, we chased a vessel to the southward. We came up with her hand over hand. When, however, we were about five miles off, it fell a dead calm. What she was we could not ascertain, though she did not look like an armed vessel. It was necessary to overhaul her, so Mr Fitzgerald volunteered to take the gig and six hands to board her, and Grey and I got leave to accompany him. We had a hot pull, the sun coming down full on our heads, and as we had come away without any water, the men were anxious to get on board the stranger, that they might quench their thirst. She was rigged as a barque, and she proved as we guessed; she was a Yankee, and a neutral. Though undoubtedly laden with stores for our enemies, we could not touch her. Her skipper was very civil, and invited us into the cabin, where a fine display of decanters and tumblers gave promise of good cheer, in which we were not disappointed. Mr Fitzgerald was soon deep in the mysteries of cocktail and similar mixtures. He seemed to enjoy them amazingly, for he quaffed tumbler after tumbler, till I began to fear that he was getting rather too deep into the subject. Grey and I took our share, but we both of us were from inclination very temperate. Independent of other considerations, I have always held that a splitting headache, and the risk of getting into trouble, was a high price to pay for the pleasure of tickling one's palate, or artificially raising one's spirits for a short time. The men were hospitably entertained forward, one or two of them finding old messmates; indeed American vessels at that period were manned principally with English seamen. We remained on board altogether much longer than we ought to have done, but at last Mr Fitzgerald, looking at his watch, jumped up, exclaiming that he must be off. We thanked the skipper for his civility, and, not without difficulty, getting the men into the boat, away we pulled towards the frigate. The men were all high in praise of the Yankees, and I have no doubt that they were all put up to run from the ship at the first American port at which they might touch.

The calm still continued, and from the lazy way in which the men pulled, it was clear that they were in no hurry to get on board. Grey and I, of course, were not; indeed Mr Fitzgerald, who was in great spirits, kept us highly amused by his stories, so full of racy humour. Our movements were, however, considerably expedited by the report of a gun from the frigate, as a signal for us immediately to return. The men now bent to their oars, and gave way in earnest. We had not pulled far, however, when another puff of smoke was seen to burst forth from the frigate's side, followed by the report of the gun, which came booming over the smooth ocean.

"Och! the skipper's in a mighty hurry," muttered the lieutenant to himself. "We are making all the haste flesh and blood is capable of, with the sun boiling up our marrow at this rate."

"Give way, lads, give way," he shouted aloud. "The captain is in a hurry, for there's something in the wind, depend on that."

We were, I suspect, so completely in a position under the sun, as observed from the frigate, that we could not be seen. Presently the report of another gun struck our ears. On this Mr Fitzgerald seemed to lose all patience.

"Hand me an oar and a boat-hook," he exclaimed, "and some rope-yarn."

What was our surprise to see him strip off his trousers, and make the waistband fast to the boat-hook, which he secured for a yard across the blade of an oar stepped upright as a mast. Having secured some pieces of rope-yarn to the legs of his unmentionables, he stood up and began blowing away with might and main into the upper portions, stopping every now and then to gain breath, and to shout, "Give way, lads, with a will--give way like troopers--give way, ye hardy sons of Neptune, or of sea-cooks, if you prefer the appellation. Give way like Tritons. We are doing all that men can do. Who dare say we can do more? But we must not stop to talk." Then, once more filling out his cheeks, he began to blow and puff with might and main as before.

Grey and I, though not a little shocked, were convulsed with laughter; so of course were the men, whose countenances, as they bent to their oars, were wreathed in the broadest of broad grins, while shouts of scarce suppressed laughter burst ever and anon from their throats.

"Faith, the captain can't say it's my fault if we don't get aboard in time. I've done all that any officer in His Majesty's service could do to expedite matters, at all events," he observed at length, stopping to draw breath.

"And more than most officers would dream of doing, Mr Fitzgerald," I answered, quietly, really fearing that he had gone mad.

"Och, yes, I was always celebrated for my zeal," he answered. "There's nothing like zeal, Mr Merry. When my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty think fit to promote one of their own nephews over the heads of any lot of us poor fellows who don't happen to have any interest in high quarters, it's always on account of zeal--they are such very zealous and promising young men. They don't say what they promise. I could never learn that. I once posed the First Lord by simply asking the question. I went up just to ask for my promotion--for there's nothing like asking, you know, youngsters. The First Lord received me with wonderful civility. He took me for another Fitzgerald, and I was fool enough to tell him which I really was, or I believe he would have handed me out my commission and appointment to a fine brig I had in my eye, there and then. I saw by his change of countenance that I had made a mistake, and, as I was in for it, I determined not to be abashed. With the blandest of smiles he remarked, 'Undoubtedly, Mr Fitzgerald, I will keep you in sight, but I have on my list so many zealous and promising young officers, that I fear you will have some time to wait.' His cold eye told me he'd do nothing for me, so says I, 'My lord, I should just like to have an example of this zeal, that I may learn to imitate it; but as to promises, faith, my lord, I should like to see any man who can beat me at making them.' I put on a face as I spoke, and he couldn't help laughing, but he told me, when I made my bow, that I might be sure he wouldn't forget me. Whether he has or has not, I can't say; but here am I, a descendant of Brian Boroo, and I don't know how many kings and queens of ould Ireland besides, nothing but a humble lieutenant, standing with my breeches off, and endeavouring to fill this epitome of a boat's sail with all the wind in my mortal body. I must stop talking, though, youngsters; it's setting you a bad example," and he began to puff away again.

We were now drawing so near the frigate that I felt sure, if any glasses were turned towards us, his extraordinary condition could be seen. I was anxious to prevent his getting into disgrace, so I asked--

"Wouldn't it be better, sir, if you were to put on your breeches, and let the men pull up alongside in proper style?"

"What, youngster, and lose this magnificent opportunity of exhibiting my zeal?" he exclaimed, indignantly. "I shall request the captain to write an official letter to the Admiralty, that a proper record may be made of it."

"But Grey and I will bear witness to the truth of your statement, if you think fit, to-morrow, to make a report of the proceeding," I observed. "You must allow, sir, that officers do not generally come alongside a ship with their breeches off, though of course it is very laudable to make use of them as a boat's sail, or in any other way, for the good of the service; but, if you have any enemies, a wrong construction may be put on the matter."

He did not appear to be listening to what I was saying, but continued puffing out his cheeks and blowing as before. As I was steering, I told Grey to look through the telescope we had with us at the ship.

"I see several glasses turned this way," he answered, "and there are numbers of men in the rigging."

I made no remark, but Mr Fitzgerald soon afterwards lowered the oar, and, without saying anything, quietly put on his breeches. We were soon alongside; the boat was hoisted in, and a light breeze having sprung up, which had long been seen coming, all sail was made in chase of a vessel to the eastward.

Mr Fitzgerald then made his report.

"You seemed to be carrying some sail," observed the captain. "You had but little wind, though, to make it of use."

"There was all the wind I could make," blurted out the lieutenant, who had now got sober, and was as much ashamed of himself as it was in his nature to be. "However, Captain Collyer, you know my zeal for the service, and there isn't a thing I wouldn't do for its good."

"Even to make use of your breeches as a sail, and compelling your mouth to do duty as _Molus_," said the captain, gravely. "However, Mr Fitzgerald, though I never like making mountains of molehills, don't let your zeal, or your love of a joke, carry you so far again. Discipline would quickly vanish if the officers were to forget their dignity, as you did just now. No officer should ever appear in public without his breeches."

"I'll make a note of that, Captain Collyer, and take care that it never again occurs," answered Mr Fitzgerald, with inimitable gravity, but with an expression on his comical features which made our good-natured skipper almost burst into a fit of laughter.

Two or three nights after this, while it was Mr Fitzgerald's watch, in which I was placed, it being very dark, the frigate, without any warning, was struck by a heavy squall, which threw her in an instant on her beam ends. I thought that she was going down. There was a loud crash--the fore-topmast had gone over the side. Lightning flashed from the sky; the thunder roared. A loud clap was heard overhead--the main-topsail had split, and, rent in fragments, was carried out of the bolt-ropes, lashing itself in fury round the yard. All seemed confusion. Everybody on the first crash had rushed on deck, mostly in very scanty costume. The captain had slipped on his coat, which, with his shirt and slippers, formed his costume. There he stood, his shirt tails fluttering in the breeze, while with his deep-toned voice he was bringing order out of seeming chaos. When the main-topsail went the frigate righted. We had work enough to do to clear the wreck of the fore-topmast and all its hamper, and it was broad daylight before the captain could leave the deck. When the ship was put a little to rights, and those officers who had appeared in limited costume had gone below to don the usual amount of dress, Mr Fitzgerald walked up to Mr Bryan, the first-lieutenant, and said--

"I wish, Bryan, that you would ascertain what are and what are not the regulations of this ship. Two days ago the captain told me that it was against his express orders that any officers should appear on the quarter-deck without their breeches, and now he appears himself without his, and so do Haisleden and the master, and some other fellows besides."

"There are some occasions when it does not do to stick at trifles," answered Mr Bryan, who found it very necessary to humour his eccentric brother officer.

"Well, at all events, the captain cannot find fault with me after that," said the second lieutenant; "I am always saying the same--I never stick at trifles."

"No, indeed you do not; but sometimes it is just as well to look at them, and ascertain if they are trifles," observed Mr Bryan.

It was found that the frigate had received so much damage that it was necessary to put back to Port Royal. It was a matter of very little consequence to us midshipmen. We were chiefly interested because we knew that we should get a supply of fresh meat and vegetables, which we preferred to the salt pork and weevilly biscuits served out to the navy in those days, and for very many days later; indeed, where is the naval officer, under the rank of a commander, or I may say a lieutenant, who does not tap every bit of biscuit on the table before he puts it into his mouth? He taps mechanically now, but he learned the habit when it was necessary to knock out the weevils.

We soon had the ship as much to rights as circumstances would allow. In the evening Grey and I went below, and found the boatswain seated on a stool in his cabin, with his legs stretched out at full length before him.

"Ah, young gentlemen, I know what you've come for," he exclaimed when he saw us. "You're curious to hear some more of my yarns. It's natural, and I'll not baulk you. There's one thing you may depend on, it will be a long time before I shall spin them all out. You needn't tell me where I left off. I was telling you about my pet shark and the dreadful event connected with it. It's a warning to people not to have pet sharks, as you'll say when you hear more. But come in, young gentlemen, and make yourselves comfortable. Ah, Mr Gogles, I'm glad to see you here; you've not heard any of my veracious narrative, but now you shall hear something to astonish you, I guess."

Gogles was a young midshipman, the son of a planter at Jamaica, who had joined us when we were last there. His countenance exhibited a large capacity for imbibing the wonderful and improbable, a fact which had not escaped Mr Johnson's acute observation.

By the time Toby Bluff had brought the boatswain his usual evening glass of grog, and he had cleared his throat, and, as he remarked, brought up his thoughts from the store-lockers of memory, a large audience was collected in and outside the cabin.

"Listen then, and let no one doubt me," continued Mr Johnson. "I told you the Lady Stiggins was bound round Cape Horn. We were running down the coast of America, when somewhere to the southward of the latitude of Demerara it came on to blow very hard from the north and west. The clouds came rushing along the sky like a mass of people all hurrying to see the king open parliament, or a clown throw a summersault at a fair, or anything of that sort, while the wind howled and screeched in the rigging as I have heard wild beasts in the woods in Africa, and the sea got up and tumbled and rolled as if the waves were dancing for their very lives. You need not believe it, but the foam flew from them so thick that it actually lifted the ship at times out of the water. We had sent down our topgallant yards, and had just furled the courses, and were in the act of lowering our main-topsail to reef it close, when a squall, more heavy than before, came right down upon us. I was at the helm at the time, and heard it roaring up astern. The main-topsail yard had just reached the cap, and the fore-topsail was the only sail showing to the breeze. The blast struck us; a clap, as if of thunder, was heard, and away flew our fore-topsail clean out of the bolt-ropes, and clear of everything. Off it flew, right away to leeward, down upon the breeze. I kept my eye on it, and observed that instead of sinking, from the strength and buoyant power of the wind, it retained precisely the same elevation above the sea that it had done when spread to the yard. I did not mention the circumstance to anyone, but took care not to lose sight of the sail. This was a hint to us not to set more canvas, so the main-topsail was furled, and away we scudded, under bare poles, right in the wake of the fore-topsail. Instead of abating, the wind increased till it blew a perfect hurricane. I, however, kept at the helm, and explaining to the captain the occurrence I had observed, begged to be allowed to remain there. At first he would scarcely believe me, and declared that it was a white cloud ahead of us, but I was so positive, that at last he let me have my way. Well, we steered straight on all that day, and when night approached I took the bearings of the sail that we might follow it as before. The wind did not vary, and in the morning there it was, exactly in its former position, only I think we had gained a little on it. On, on we ran, tearing rather over than through the foaming ocean, but still we did not come up with the fail. At last I was obliged, from very weariness, to let a careful hand relieve me at the helm, and, desiring to be called if we neared the sail, I turned in and went to sleep. Now you will want to know, young gentlemen, why I was so anxious to come up with the sail? The fact is that I had taken a notion into my head, which I will tell you presently. Well, I was so weary that I slept for five-and-twenty hours without turning, and I could scarcely believe that I had been in my hammock more than an hour, for when I came on deck everything was exactly as I had left it. Feeling much refreshed, and having swallowed two dozen of biscuits, a leg of pork, and a gallon of rum and water, I took the helm, resolved to carry out my intentions. It wasn't, however, till the next morning, when the sun broke out from behind the clouds, that it shone directly on our fore-topsail, now not the eighth of a mile ahead of us. For some reason or other, which I have never been able satisfactorily to explain, we were coming rapidly up with it. I now saw that the moment was approaching for carrying my plan into execution. Accordingly I sent the people on to the fore-yard, and also on the fore-topsail yard, which was hoisted right up, some with palm needles and others with earings and lashings. It was a moment of intense interest. I kept the brig's head directly for the sail. We approached it rapidly; it was over the bowsprit end. My eye did not fail me, and, to my inexpressible satisfaction, we shot directly up to the sail. The men on the yards instantly secured it, and in five minutes it was again spread aloft as if it had never left its place. There, young gentlemen, if you ever see anything done like that, you may open your eyes with astonishment. I gained some credit for my performance, though there are people, I own, who do not believe in the fact, which is not surprising, as it isn't every day in the week that a ship recovers a topsail which has been blown away in a gale of wind."

There was a considerable amount of cachinnations along the deck outside, while a gruff voice grunted out, "Well, bo'sun, that is a jolly crammer;" at which Mr Johnson looked highly indignant, and we were afraid that he would not continue his narrative, but a glance at Gogles's deliciously credulous and yet astonished countenance, as he sat with his eyes and mouth wide open, staring with all his might, seemed fully to pacify him. I never met a man who enjoyed his own jokes, though certainly they were of the broadest kind, more thoroughly than did Mr Johnson. _

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