Tom gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. The conversation had a good effect, as far as he was concerned, as it made him forget the fears he had entertained about his personal safety.

In the meantime Bill remained on deck watching what was going forward. He heard Captain Martin tell the first lieutenant that he intended to engage the enemy to leeward, in order to prevent her escape; but as the Thisbe approached the French ship, the latter, suspecting his intention, so as to frustrate it, wore round on the starboard tack.

After much skilful seamanship on both sides, Captain Martin, finding that he could not succeed, ranged up to windward of the enemy within pistol shot, both ships being on the larboard tack, two or three points off the wind.

They now simultaneously opened their broadsides, the shot of the Thisbe telling with considerable effect, while not a few of those of the enemy came on board in return, cutting up her rigging, and laying low three or four of her men.

The French ship now passed under the stern of the Thisbe, firing her larboard broadside with great precision. A second time she attempted to repeat the manoeuvre, but the crew of the Thisbe, having quickly rove new braces, her sails were thrown aback, and gathering sternway, her starboard quarter took the larboard bow of the French frigate.

The French on this made several attempts to board, but the marines, who were drawn up on deck, opened so warm a fire that they were driven back with considerable loss.

The Thisbe had now her enemy fast to her quarter. In order to keep her there, Captain Martin and some of his crew endeavoured to lash her bowsprit to his mizenmast; while others were engaged in bringing a gun to bear, out of a port which the carpenters quickly cut through the stern windows and quarter gallery.

While they were thus engaged, the enemy kept up a hot fire on them, several men being killed and wounded; but the gun was at length brought into position.

"Now fire, my lads!" cried the second lieutenant, who was superintending the operation.

After the first, discharge, no sooner had the smoke cleared away, than full twenty Frenchmen were seen stretched on the deck.

Bill had been standing near the first lieutenant. A marine had just loaded his musket, but was knocked over before he had time to fire it. Bill at that moment saw a French seaman run along the bowsprit with a musket in his hand. Bill, springing forward, seized that of the marine, and, as he did so, he observed the Frenchman taking aim at the head of Mr Saltwell, whose eyes were turned in a different direction.

There was not a moment for deliberation. Without ceremony pushing the lieutenant aside, he fired at the Frenchman, who, as he did so, discharged his musket, but immediately fell overboard, the ball tearing away the rim of Mr Saltwell's hat, but without hurting him.

The first lieutenant, turning round, perceived the way by which his life had been saved.

"Thank you, my lad," he said, "I see how you did it, and I'll not forget the service you have rendered me."

There was no time just then for saying more, for a party of Frenchmen were attempting to fire a carronade on their forecastle. Before they could succeed, the marines had picked off the greater number. Others took their places, but every man of them was treated in the same manner. At last the attempt to fire the gun was abandoned.

The French ship now getting a breeze, began to forge ahead. This enabled the Thisbe's crew to bring their aftermost gun on the starboard side to bear, the first discharge from which cut away the gammoning of the French frigate's bowsprit.

The two ships now separated, but were soon again abreast of each other exchanging broadsides; but so rapidly did the English crew work their guns that they managed to fire three to the Frenchman's two.

A loud cheer burst from their throats as they saw the enemy's maintopmast go over the side. The Thisbe now forged ahead clear of her adversary, and the breeze dying away, the firing ceased on both sides. Still the Frenchmen kept their colours flying.

The English crew were busily employed in knotting and splicing the rigging which had been cut away, and repairing other damages.

"I hope they've had enough of it, and that the fighting is over," exclaimed Tom.

"Not so sure of that," said Jack. "The French take a good deal of drubbing, and don't always know when they are beaten."

Tom felt, at all events, that he had had enough of it, as he looked along the deck and saw numbers of the men who had been slightly hurt binding up each other's wounds. Several lay stiff and stark, whose bodies were dragged on one side, while not a few, severely hurt, had been carried below to the cockpit, where the surgeon and his mates had ample employment.

Among the killed was the second lieutenant, a master's mate, and two young midshipmen; altogether of the two hundred and fifty men who that morning were in health and strength, forty were either killed outright or were severely wounded.

Just then, however, the survivors were too much occupied to think about the matter; every man and boy was wanted to get the ship to rights, and all were eagerly looking out for a breeze that they might again attack the enemy. Bill was as eager as any one for the fight. He felt that he was somebody, as he could not help reflecting that he had done good service in saving the life of the first lieutenant, though he did not exactly expect any reward in consequence. It seemed to him that he had grown suddenly from a powder monkey into a man. Still the calm continued, and the two ships lay with their sails against the masts, the water shining like a polished mirror.

The calm was to the advantage of the French, who had thus longer time to repair their damages. The English were soon ready to renew the action.

What, however, might not happen in the meantime?

Both the captain and Mr Saltwell thought it possible that the French squadron might be to the eastward, and should the firing have been heard, and a breeze spring up from that direction, which it was very likely to do, the Frenchmen in overwhelming force might be down upon them.

The captain walked the deck, looking anxiously out in every direction for signs of a breeze. Occasionally reports were brought to him of the way the wounded men were getting on. The surgeons had as much work as they could get through, cutting off arms and legs, setting broken limbs, and binding up flesh wounds. Such are the horrors of war! How many might be added ere long to the number of the killed and wounded!

It was nearly noon when the captain exclaimed, "Here comes a breeze! Trim sails, my lads!" The men flew to the braces. The canvas blew out, and the frigate began slowly to move towards her antagonist.



CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE "THISBE" VICTORIOUS—AN ENEMY'S SQUADRON HEAVES IN SIGHT.

The crew of the Thisbe stood at their guns, ready to open fire at the word of command. Several who had, at the commencement of the action, been among them, were missing; and though the survivors mourned their loss, that was not the time either to think or talk about them. Not a word, indeed, was spoken fore and aft; not even the usual jokes passed between the men. The Frenchman showed no inclination to avoid the combat. He could not have got away even had he wished, for his foretopmast was gone, and he had not fully repaired the other damages he had received aloft.

Nearer and nearer the Thisbe drew to the enemy, still the looked-for word of command did not come. The captain resolved to wait till he got close up to her. The French, also, for some time refrained from firing, though the Thisbe was within range of their guns. They were the first to lose patience, or perhaps they thought that they could knock away the spars and rigging of their antagonist, and thus be able to make their escape.

The Thisbe, however, was coming up on their larboard quarter. Their guns which they could bring to bear were trained high for the purpose mentioned. The shot came whistling about her masts and rigging; but though some of her sails were shot through, and a few ropes cut away, no material damage was received. The breeze at that instant freshened, and the Thisbe glided rapidly on.

"Give it them, my lads!" cried the captain, as the helm being put to starboard the whole of the Thisbe's broadside was brought to bear with terrible effect on the enemy.

The Frenchman again fired. The Thisbe's guns were quickly run in and reloaded. The breeze at that instant blew aside the smoke, and as it did so the enemy's foremast was seen to fall with a crash overboard.

Loud cheers rang forth from the decks of the Thisbe. Again her broadside was fired, but no return came. The next instant, through the smoke, the Frenchman's ensign was seen in the act of being lowered, just in time to save them from another broadside.

The British crew had cheered lustily when they saw the foremast fall. They now redoubled their shouts, turning round and shaking each other heartily by the hand; some throwing up their caps, and others, mostly the Irishmen of the crew, leaping and dancing with delight.

Two of the Thisbe's boats being uninjured, they were lowered; and the third lieutenant, with a master's mate and a party of seamen, was sent on board to take possession of the prize.

As they were about to shove off, Mr Saltwell inquired whether any one could speak French.

"I can, sir," said Bill, touching his hat.

"Then go and assist Mr Sterling; you will be of much use," said the first lieutenant.

Bill, who had been longing to visit the prize, obeyed with no small satisfaction.

As they reached her deck, an officer advanced with his sword in his hand, and presented it to Mr Sterling, who, receiving it, handed it to Bill.

The French officer announced that he was the second lieutenant of the Diana frigate, which it was his misfortune now to yield into the possession of her British conquerors.

Mr Sterling bowed in return.

"Tell him, Rayner," he said, "that we acknowledge how bravely he and his countrymen have fought their ship, and that though they have lost her, they have not lost their honour."

The French lieutenant looked highly gratified at this remark when Bill interpreted it, and desired him to express his obligation to the English lieutenant.

The captain and first lieutenant had been killed, as were no less than thirty of the crew, including other officers, while fifty were wounded.

The deck, indeed, presented a dreadful scene—strewed in every direction with corpses, while many poor fellows were so fearfully injured that their shipmates had been unwilling to move them.

The other officers presented their swords, while the seamen unbuckled their cutlasses, and the marines piled their arms. Many wry faces were made, though most of the Frenchmen merely shrugged their shoulders, observing that what had happened to them was the fortune of war. Bill made himself very useful in communicating with the French officers and crew.

One of the Diana's boats had escaped injury, and she, being lowered, assisted the other boats in carrying the prisoners on board the Thisbe. They far outnumbered the English, and much vigilance was required to keep them in order.

The prize crew sent on board the Diana set to work, under the command of Mr Sterling, to stop the shot-holes in her sides, and to repair her other more serious damages. A jury-mast was rigged forward, to supply the place of the foremast carried away. In the meantime, a hawser being conveyed on board the Thisbe, the prize was taken in tow, and sail was made for Plymouth.

It was of the greatest importance to get away from the French coast without delay, for a northerly wind might spring up and drive the two ships upon it; or if, as Captain Martin suspected, a French squadron was in the neighbourhood, the sound of the firing might have reached them, and they would very probably come up to ascertain what had taken place, when the prize would be recaptured, and the Thisbe herself might find it very difficult to escape.

Everybody on board had, therefore, ample work to do; besides which the prisoners in both ships had to be watched. Several had been allowed to remain on board the prize to assist the surgeons in attending to the wounded men. An eye had also to be kept on them.

Mr Saltwell sent for Bill, who had returned to the Thisbe.

"I remember well how you behaved on board the Foxhound, and I want you to keep a watch on the prisoners, and let me know if you hear or see anything suspicious. They will probably remain quiet enough, as they must know that they would have very little chance of success should they attempt to rise upon us. At the same time it is better to be on the safe side, and not to trust them too much."

"They have heard me talking French to the officers, and will be careful what they say when they see me near them," answered Bill; "but there's my messmate, Jack Peek, who was in France with me, and knows their 'lingo' as well as I do; and as they have not heard him talking, they'll not suspect him; and if you will allow me, sir, I will tell him to go among them, and he'll soon find out if they have any thoughts of mischief."

Mr Saltwell approved of Bill's proposal, and gave him leave to employ Jack as he suggested.

Bill, going below, soon found out his messmate.

Jack was well pleased at the confidence placed in him, and promised to keep his eyes and ears well open.

There was no time for conversation just then, for every man in the ship was busy, and the boys were wanted to assist them.

The frigate and her prize had made some way to the northward before night came on. A bright look-out was kept for any enemy which might heave in sight; but when darkness gradually stole over the ocean, none had appeared.

During that night none of the English officers or men turned in. The most tired snatched a few moments of sleep at intervals as best they could when off watch.

The Frenchmen were allowed to lie down on deck between the guns, with sentries placed over them. It was very evident that, had they chosen to rise, they might have overpowered the sentries at the cost of a few of their own lives. Fortunately none of them liked to run the risk of being shot, and remained quiet.

The wind was light, and the Thisbe and her prize made but slow progress.

The captain anxiously waited the return of morning.

At early dawn look-outs were sent aloft to ascertain if any vessels were in sight. They reported three to the south-east, and one to the westward; but what they were it was impossible at that distance to say, as their loftier sails could but indistinctly be seen rising above the horizon.

The Thisbe had already as much sail set as she could carry, but Lieutenant Sterling was making an effort to get up a maintopmast on board the prize.

When Jack and Bill met at breakfast, Jack reported that he had been frequently among the prisoners, but had failed to hear anything which showed that they had the slightest thoughts of attempting to regain their liberty.

"What would you know about the matter even if they had been talking treason?" observed Tom. "I doubt if either of you fellows know much about French."

"As to that," said Bill, "we managed to talk to Frenchmen, and to understand what they said to us. That, at least, shows that we do know something about French; not that I wish to boast, only I think I should do much better if I could get hold of some French books."

Tom laughed. "Oh! I dare say you are going to become a great scholar, and to beat us all," he observed, with a sneer. "Jack was even declaring that you were likely to be placed on the quarter-deck. That would be a good joke."

"It would be a good reality for me, though I don't think it's what is very likely to happen," answered Bill, without getting at all angry.

"Nor do I," said Tom, in the same tone as before. "Just fancy a chap like you turned into an officer. You can jabber a few words of French, and may have picked up a smattering of navigation on board the Foxhound, though I've a notion you must pretty well have forgotten all you knew by this time, and you may be fond of books, but all that won't turn a fellow who has come out of the gutter, as one may say, into a gentleman, as I suppose those on the quarter-deck call themselves."

"And what do you call them?" exclaimed Jack, not liking to hear such remarks made to Bill. "I wonder you dare to speak in that way."

"I call myself the son of a gentleman, and I'm thinking when I get into port of writing to my father and asking him to have me placed on the quarter-deck."

"I wonder you didn't do that before you ran away from home," said Jack. "They'll have forgotten all about you by this time, and maybe, if you do manage to write a letter, your father won't believe that it comes from you."

"Let him alone, Jack," said Bill; "I don't mind what he says about me. If his father gets him made a midshipman, I shall be as glad as any one."

"Thank you," said Tom; "I flatter myself I shall know how to strut about the quarter-deck and order the men here and there as well as the rest of them."

Just then a voice was heard shouting, "Tom Fletcher, the cook wants you in the galley. Be smart, now, you've been long enough at breakfast."

Tom, bolting his last piece of biscuit, hurried away, as he had no fancy for the rope's-ending which would have been bestowed upon him had he delayed obeying the summons.

The mess-tins were stowed away, and the watch hastened on deck. The wind by this time had somewhat freshened, and the frigate and her prize were making better progress than before. The strangers, however, which had appeared in sight in the morning were considerably nearer. A fourth was now seen beyond the three which had been made out to the eastward. The ship to the westward which was considerably farther off than the others, was evidently a large vessel, and the captain declared his belief that she was a line-of-battle ship, but whether English or French, it was impossible to decide. He hoped, as did everybody on board, that she was English, for should she prove to be French, as undoubtedly were the vessels to the eastward, the Thisbe would lose her hard-won prize, even though she might manage to escape herself. Still, Captain Martin was not a man to give up hope while there was a chance of escape.

The Thisbe, followed by her prize, kept on her course with every stitch of canvas she could carry set.

"I'm afraid if we don't outrun those fellows there, we shall get boxed up again by the Frenchmen," observed Jack, pointing to the approaching ships.

"If we do we must manage to get out somehow or other, as we did before," answered Bill; "but even if they do come up with us, that's no reason why we should be taken. We must try and beat them off, and the captain and Mr Saltwell are the men to do it. They are only four to our two ships, for the lieutenant in charge of the prize will fight his guns as well as we do ours."

"But what do you say to that big ship coming up Channel out there?" asked Tom. "We shall be made mincemeat of if she gets up to us, for I heard the boatswain's mate say that she's a seventy-four at least, and may be an eighty-gun ship, or still larger."

"She hasn't come up with us yet," answered Bill. "We shall have time to beat off the others and stand away to the northward before she gets us within range of her guns. Perhaps, too, the wind will shift to the eastward, and throw her to leeward. We shall then be well in with Plymouth by the time she can manage to beat up to us. We are not going to give in while the tight little frigate keeps above water."

Bill expressed the sentiments of most of the crew. Still, the odds were greatly against the Thisbe and Diana. The latter had but forty hands on board to work the guns and manage the sails, while the crew of the Thisbe was thus far diminished, besides which they had to look after their prisoners.

The two leading ships of the enemy had been made out to be frigates, as it was thought probable were their consorts astern; and even though they might fail to capture the Thisbe, they might knock away her masts and spars, and so maul her that she would be compelled to succumb to the line-of-battle ship coming up from the westward.

Not, however, by his manner, or anything he said, did the captain show the least apprehension of such a result. The crew were at their stations, ready to shorten sail should the breeze freshening render it necessary. The men joked and laughed as usual, as ready for action as if they were only expecting one opponent of equal size.

The morning wore on, the hands were piped down to dinner, the prospect of hot work not at all damping their appetites, though perhaps they got through their meal rather faster than was their wont; when they again hurried on deck to see how things were going on. The two French frigates were approaching. The headmost in a short time fired a bowchaser, but the shot fell short. It served, however, as a signal to prepare for action. Once more the guns were cast loose, and their crews stood ready to fire as soon as they received the looked-for word of command.

A few of the French prisoners who had been allowed to remain on deck were now ordered below. They went willingly enough, exhibiting in their countenances the satisfaction they felt at the expectation of being soon restored to liberty. They were, of course, narrowly watched, and well knew that they would be pretty severely dealt with should they show any signs of insubordination.



CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE "THISBE'S" NARROW ESCAPE—TOM HOPES TO BE MADE A MIDSHIPMAN.

Half an hour or more passed, when again the leading French frigate fired, the shot falling close to the counter of the Diana, which by this time, having got up a fresh maintopmast, was able to make more sail.

Captain Martin now ordered Lieutenant Sterling to cast off the tow rope and to stand on ahead of him, while, to allow the Diana to do so, he clewed up the Thisbe's topsails.

"Make the best of your way to Plymouth," he shouted, as the Diana passed the Thisbe; "we'll keep these two fellows in play, and shall, I hope, be soon after you."

As soon as the prize had got some distance ahead, Captain Martin, who had been watching the two frigates coming up on the starboard quarter, ordered the Thisbe's helm to be put to port; at the same moment, her starboard broadside being fired, the shot raked the two Frenchmen fore and aft. The helm was then immediately put over, and the frigate coming up on the other tack, her larboard broadside was poured into her antagonists. The shot told with considerable effect. The foretopmast of the leading frigate was shot away, and the mizenmast of the one following was seen to go by the board. This, however, did not much alter their rate of sailing, as, the wind being aft, all the canvas they required continued set. They also opened their fire, and their shot came crashing on board the Thisbe, killing and wounding two or three men, but not doing any material damage to her spars or rigging. She having shortened sail, her antagonists were compelled to do the same; and while they poured their broadsides into her, she returned them as rapidly as the crew could run the guns in and out.

Captain Martin's great object was to keep them engaged, and, if possible, to knock away their masts, so as to enable the Diana to escape, for although he might hope to get off himself, he could not expect to capture either of the enemy's ships.

The Thisbe had been several times hulled, and her sails were already completely riddled, while many more of her crew had fallen.

"It is going hard with us, I fear," said Jack to Tom, who was seated next him on his powder tub. "There's well-nigh a score of poor fellows killed or wounded within the last half-hour. It may be the lot of one of us before long."

"Oh, dear! I hope not," cried Tom. "I wish the skipper would try and get away instead of fighting the Frenchmen. Two to one is fearful odds against us, and we shall have the two other ships blazing away at our heads before long."

"We haven't much to fear from them," said Jack. "I have just heard they're corvettes, and they won't be up to us until we've given the other two a drubbing, and have made sail again to the northward."

The two corvettes were, however, likely to prove no despicable opponents, and Captain Martin was only watching until he had knocked away the masts or spars of one or both of the frigates, to make sail and escape, for it would have been madness to have continued the fight longer than was necessary to accomplish that object.

The Frenchmen, however, fought bravely, and evidently did not intend to let him get off if they could help it. Each had just fired another broadside into the Thisbe, when they were seen to haul their wind, the two ships coming up astern doing the same. The reason of this was evident: the line-of-battle ship to the westward, now approaching under a pressure of sail, had hoisted British colours, and any longer delay would have enabled her quickly to capture one or both of them. The brave crew of the Thisbe expressed their satisfaction by giving a loud cheer, which was joined in even by many of the wounded.

Captain Martin had accomplished his object; he had secured the safety of his prize, and his crew, now swarming aloft, set to work rapidly to knot and splice the rigging which had been shot away.

As soon as this had been accomplished sufficiently to make sail, the Thisbe, brought to the wind, stood after the flying enemy, firing her bow chasers as she did so; but it was soon seen that she had little chance of coming up with them. Still her captain persevered; but, with both masts and spars wounded, it was impossible to carry as much sail as would otherwise have been done. Consequently, before long the line-of-battle ship, which made the signal Terrible, seventy-four, overtook her.

A cheer rose from the deck of the big ship, which came gliding slowly by. Her captain hailed, "Well done, Martin!"

The pursuit was continued for some time, but night was approaching, and the coast of France was not far off. The seventy-four therefore threw out the signal to bear up and a course was shaped for Plymouth.

A sharp look-out was kept during the night for the Diana. Soon after sunrise she was seen steering for Plymouth, into which harbour Captain Martin and his gallant crew had the satisfaction of conducting her the following day. Although it was a day of triumph to the surviving crew, it was one of mourning to many who had lost relatives and friends. The dead were carried on shore to be buried, the wounded conveyed to hospitals, the Frenchmen were landed and marched off under an escort of marines to the prisons prepared for them, and press-gangs were soon busy at work to obtain fresh hands to supply the places of those who had fallen, although many prime seamen volunteered to serve on board a frigate which had already won a name for herself.

Tom Fletcher, as soon as the ship got into harbour, managed to procure a pen and some ink and paper, and indited a letter to his father. It was not over-well written, but he contrived to make it pretty clearly express that he was serving on board H.M.S. Thisbe, and that having already seen a great deal of service, he felt sure that if his father would apply to the Admiralty and make him an allowance of thirty or forty pounds a year, he should be placed on the quarter-deck, and in due course of time become an admiral.

"We are sure to make lots of prize-money," he added; "and if I were a midshipman now, I should be receiving a hundred pounds or more, so that you may be sure, father, that I will pay it all back with interest."

"Father likes interest," he observed to Bill, who was sitting by him at the time, and helping him in his somewhat unaccustomed task; "that'll make him more ready to do what I want, though whether he'll ever get the money is neither here nor there."

"But if you promise to pay him, you are bound to do so," observed Bill. "You need not have made the promise, then you could have waited to know whether he required interest."

"Well, I've written it, and can't scratch it out now," said Tom. "It will come to the same thing in the end."

Bill had some doubts whether Tom's father would make the allowance Tom asked for; but if he were a rich man, as Tom asserted, he might do so, and therefore he said nothing.

The letter, after being folded several times and creased all over, was at length closed, sealed, and addressed, by which time it had assumed a somewhat grimy appearance. Tom got the cook's mate, who was going on shore, to post his letter, having told him that he expected to receive a good sum of money by return, and promising him a part of the proceeds. Bill and Jack looked forward to the reply with almost as much interest as Tom himself, neither of them feeling that they should be at all jealous, should it produce the satisfactory result he anticipated.

Meantime, every possible exertion was made to get the ship ready for sea. Mr Saltwell was very busy superintending all the operations. Bill, however, found that he was not forgotten, from a kind word or two which on several occasions the first lieutenant bestowed upon him. As Tom was not aware of this, he amused himself by telling Bill that Mr Saltwell would not trouble himself more about him—that he must be content to remain a powder monkey until he got big enough to be rated as an ordinary seaman.

"Better than being cook's boy," cried Jack, who could never stand hearing Bill sneered at. "He's a precious deal more likely to be made a midshipman than you are, even though your father is a rich man and rides in his carriage, as you say."

Tom retorted, and Jack looked as if he was much inclined to knock him over, when the quarrel was cut short by the appearance of the cook's mate, who dragged off Tom to help him clean the galley and scrub the pots and pans.

Day after day went by. The frigate was reported ready for sea, and her complement of men having been filled up, she only waited for her captain to come on board to continue her cruise.

Still Tom had received no reply from his father. "Perhaps he or the Admiralty may have written to the captain, and when he comes aboard I shall be placed in my proper position," he observed in confidence to Bill.

"I hope so, but I'm afraid there will be but little time for you to get a proper uniform and an outfit," was the answer.

"I'm not much afraid of that; the tailors won't take long in rigging me out," answered Tom.

Soon after this the captain came on board, and Tom, greatly to his disappointment, was not sent for. Just, however, as the ship was going out into the Sound, the mail-bag arrived, and a letter addressed, "Thomas Fletcher, H.M.S. Thisbe," was handed him. He eagerly broke the seal. As he was no great hand at reading writing, he was obliged to ask Bill to assist him in deciphering the contents. He had, however, to rub his eyes several times before he could make them out, even with his messmate's help.

"It's not from father at all," he observed, after looking at the paper all over. "S. Fletcher must be my biggest brother, and he always gave me more kicks than ha'pence."

The letter began:—

"Dear Tom,—Our father received yours of the third instant, as the first intimation of your being alive since your unaccountable disappearance. You have caused us by your wicked proceeding no end of grief and trouble, and, as far as we can make out by your wretchedly written epistle, you do not seem to be at all ashamed of yourself, or sorry for what you have done; and our father bids me to say, that as you have made your bed, you must lie in it. As to making you an allowance of thirty or forty pounds a year, and getting you placed on the quarter-deck, the notion is too ridiculous to be entertained. I must tell you, too, our father has failed, smashed up completely, won't pay sixpence in the pound. As we find it a hard matter to live, he is not likely to make you an allowance of thirty pounds, or thirty pence a year, or to trouble himself by going to the Admiralty with the certainty of being sent away with a flea in his ear; so you see, Tom, you must just grin and bear it. If you don't get killed, I would advise you—should you ever wish to come home—to make your appearance with your pockets full of the prize-money you talk of, and you will then perhaps receive a welcome, and be well entertained as long as it lasts by the rest of the family, as also by—

"Your affectionate brother—

"S. Fletcher.

"P.S. Until then I would advise you not to show your nose in this neighbourhood."

"He always was an ill-natured fellow, was my brother Sam," exclaimed Tom, not seeming concerned at the news of his father's ruin, while, crumpling up the letter, he thrust it into his pocket. "I feel inclined to hang myself or jump overboard."

"Don't think of doing anything so bad," said Bill. "You are no worse off than you were before. All you've got to do is to attend to your duty, and try to please those above you."

"The cook and the cook's mate," growled poor Tom. "It isn't a pleasant task to have to scrub saucepans and clean out the galley."

"But it is your duty, and while you have to do it it would be best to try and do it as well as you can," observed Bill. "Neither the cook nor the cook's mate are bad fellows, and you will gain their good-will by showing a pleasant temper, and working as hard as you can."

"All very well for you to preach," said Tom; "but there's no help for it, I suppose, and so I must make the best of my hard lot."

"That's just what I'm advising," said Bill; though he did not add, "You must remember you brought it upon yourself by running away from home."

The boatswain's pipe summoned all hands on deck to make sail, and the frigate, standing down the Sound, at once put to sea.

A bright look-out was kept for enemies; all hands, from the captain downwards, being eager to secure another prize, even though they might have to fight a tough battle to win her. The captain's orders were to capture, sink, burn, destroy, or drive on shore any of the enemy's vessels he could come up with. With this object in view the Thisbe continued to cruise, now down the Channel, now up again, keeping as much as possible in sight of the French coast. She had been some time at sea, however, without having made any prizes; for although she had chased several vessels, they, having espied her in time, had managed to escape by running close in shore, under strong batteries, or getting up harbours where they could not be followed. At last one morning, as the frigate had just made the land, from which she had been standing off during the night, a sail was seen inside of her—that is, between her and the French coast, steering to the eastward, apparently bound down Channel.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A CUTTING-OUT EXPEDITION—BILL DISCOVERS AN OLD FRIEND.

The wind being very light, every stitch of canvas the Thisbe could carry was packed on her, and her course altered so as to cut off the stranger. As the sun rose, and its beams lighted up the white canvas of the latter, she was pronounced to be a full-rigged ship, either a man-of-war or privateer, or a large merchantman, but at the distance she was off it was difficult to determine whether she was a frigate or a flush-decked vessel. Captain Martin hoped that she would prove to be a frigate, and an antagonist worthy of engaging. She must have seen the Thisbe approaching, but either took her for a friend or believed that she was well able to cope with her, as she did not alter her course. Captain Martin calculated that the Thisbe would be up with the stranger before noon. Every telescope on board was directed towards her. Bill wished that he had one, that he might form an opinion as to what she was. He heard some officers talking, and they declared that she was undoubtedly French, and was either a large man-of-war corvette, or a privateer. If such were the case, and the Thisbe could get up to her, she would be captured to a certainty, though she would probably fight, and try to knock away some of the Thisbe's spars, so as to effect her escape. The wind, which had hitherto been blowing from the southward and south, suddenly shifted to the east. As soon as the stranger felt it, she was seen to haul her tacks on board, brace up her yards, and stand away towards the land.

"She's going to run on shore," exclaimed Jack, who had been watching her as eagerly as any one, when his duty would allow him to take a look-out.

"More likely she knows of a harbour or battery in there, and is running in for shelter," answered Bill.

"We shan't be able to take her then," said Jack. "I was making sure we should have her as our prize."

"I won't say we shan't take her, notwithstanding," observed Bill. "Perhaps we shall fight the battery and her too, if she brings up under one. Or if she runs into a harbour, the boats may be sent in after her to bring her out."

As soon as the stranger was seen standing to the southward, the Thisbe also hauled up to continue the pursuit, but the chase was still beyond the reach of her guns.

"We shan't catch her after all," said Jack, who had taken another look at the stranger some time after she had altered her course.

"I don't see that we have not still a chance of coming up with her," answered Bill. "The captain thinks so, or he would not be keeping after her. Perhaps she may be becalmed closer in with the land, or we may draw near enough to knock away her masts. We have gained a mile on her during the last hour. I would always try to succeed while a single chance remains, and I would never knock under to an enemy while I had a stick standing, or a plank beneath my feet."

Still, notwithstanding Bill's sanguine hopes of success, as the day wore on there seemed every probability that the French ship would make good her escape. It was now seen that she was steering for a harbour, the mouth of which could be distinguished from the deck of the Thisbe, with a battery on one side.

"Our bow chasers will reach her, Mr Saltwell," cried the captain, at length.

The order to fire was eagerly obeyed. The frigate, however, had to yaw for the purpose. One of the shot was seen to go right through the sails of the chase, but the other fell on one side.

The guns were quickly reloaded, and were fired immediately the ship was kept away sufficiently for the purpose. Again one of the shot took effect, but what damage was done it was impossible to say, and the chase stood on as before.

The manoeuvre was repeated several times, causing the frigate to lose ground; but a fortunate shot would have enabled her quickly to regain it. Though several of the Thisbe's shot took effect, the chase continued her course, firing in return from a gun run out astern; but none of the shot struck her pursuer. At last, however, the chase ran past the battery, which shortly afterwards opened fire. Captain Martin returned it with such effect that two of the guns were silenced, when the frigate's head was put off shore, and she stood away to avoid the risk of being becalmed should the wind fall, as was very likely, towards evening.

"I say, Bill, I really believe that's the very place we got away from on our raft," said Jack.

"No doubt about it," answered Bill. "I remember the look of the land to the eastward, and I feel pretty sure I could find my way up the harbour."

Bill had scarcely said this when he heard his name called, and he was told to go to the first lieutenant.

"Do you recollect anything about the harbour up there?" asked Mr Saltwell.

"Yes, sir," answered Bill. "I remember it was the one from which Peek and I got off, and I was thinking I could make my way up it at night, if I had to do so."

"You will have an opportunity to-night, I hope, of showing your knowledge. The captain intends to send up the boats to try and cut out the vessel we chased into the harbour. I am to command the expedition, and I will take you with me."

"Thank you, sir," said Bill, touching his hat. "I feel pretty sure that I know my way up to the landing-place, and I do not suppose that a ship the size of the chase could get up higher."

"You can go forward now, and be ready to accompany me when you are summoned," said Mr Saltwell.

Bill felt highly gratified by the confidence placed in him, and was thankful that he had so thoroughly observed the harbour before he and Jack had made their escape. The frigate, meantime, was standing out to sea, so that by the time the sun went down she could not be perceived from the shore. She was then hove-to, and preparations were made for the intended expedition.

Lieutenant Saltwell went in the barge, the third lieutenant in the launch, and the lieutenant of marines, with the senior mate, in the cutter, the oars of all the boats being muffled, so that no sound would betray their approach to the enemy.

The frigate then again stood in, taking care to show no lights, when in perfect silence the boats shoved off, carrying among them about fifty officers and men. Lieutenant Saltwell called Bill aft to take a seat by his side. Before leaving the frigate, the captain had directed the first lieutenant to return should he find the ship so moored as to render it impossible to bring her out. Bill, however, told him that he had observed a vessel at anchor some way below the landing-place, and that he supposed no large craft could get up higher on account of the shallowness of the water. The wind, which had hitherto been east and north-east, again shifting to the southward, blew directly down the harbour, which would enable the ship, should she be captured, to be brought down without difficulty.

Bill's heart beat quicker than usual as he thought of the work in hand, and recollected that the success of the undertaking might considerably depend upon him. The night was very dark, but as the boats got up to the mouth of the harbour the lights on shore could be distinguished, as well as several on board vessels at anchor. The boats kept clear of the latter, lest any of their people might discover them and give the alarm. The barge led, the launch and cutter following in succession. The success of the undertaking would depend on their being able to take the enemy by surprise.

As yet no signs had been perceived that their approach was discovered, and Bill advised that they should keep over to the west shore, where there were no vessels at anchor, but where he was sure there was water for the boats, from having seen a good-sized craft keeping that course at low tide.

As they got higher up, the sound of voices came off the shore, as if the people were laughing and making merry. This gave Mr Saltwell hopes that many of the crew were landed, and that those on board would be totally unprepared for an attack. He intended to board on the starboard quarter, and he had given directions to the other officers, one to board on the larboard quarter and the other at the main chains, his object being to overpower the resistance the officer's would make aft, then to sweep the decks until the forecastle was gained. One of the boats was immediately to shove ahead and cut the cable, while certain of the men had been directed to hoist the headsails, so that the prize might, without an instant's delay, be making her way down the harbour before any assistance could come off to her from the land.

The moment for action was approaching. The ship was seen at the spot where Bill thought she would be found, lying silent and dark, her tall masts and the tracery of her rigging just to be distinguished against the sky. No one was observed moving on her deck. Eagerly the boats dashed forward to the posts allotted to them. The bows of the barge had just hooked on when the sentry on the gangway, who had evidently not been attending to his duty, shouted out, and fired his musket.

The rest of the watch came rushing aft, but it was to encounter the crew of the barge, who, having climbed up her side, had already gained her deck. Their officers at the same moment sprang up the companion-hatch, sword in hand, but were knocked over before they could strike a blow.

The crews of the other boats had, in the meantime, gained the deck, but not before the rest of the Frenchmen came tumbling up from below armed with cutlasses and pikes, or such weapons as they could lay their hands on. Though they made a bold stand, and endeavoured to defend the fore part of the ship, they had to retreat before the desperate charge of the boarders, who, with cutlasses flashing and cutting, soon hewed a way for themselves to the forecastle, leaving the deck on either side covered with dead or wounded men. Not a word had been spoken, and scarcely a shout uttered, but the clashing of steel and flashing of pistols must have showed the people on shore what was going forward.

The mate, to whom the duty had been assigned, having in the meantime carried his boat under the bows, quickly cut the cable, then allowing her to drift alongside, he sprang on to the forecastle, where he took charge of the party engaged in making sail.

The third lieutenant, though he was severely wounded, went aft to the helm, and in less than three minutes from the time the boats got alongside, the prize, under her foresail and foretopsail, was standing down the harbour.

Bill, having got hold of a pistol, kept close to Mr Saltwell, that he might be ready to assist him or obey any orders he might receive. A few only of his men were standing round the lieutenant when a party of the French crew, who had already yielded, led by the boatswain, a big, sturdy fellow, whose cutlass had already brought two of the English seamen to the deck, suddenly attacked him, hoping to regain the ship. The sailors had enough to do to defend themselves, and the big boatswain was making a desperate blow at the lieutenant's head, when Bill, who thought it a time to use his pistol with effect, fired, and the boatswain fell, his cutlass dropping from his hand. His followers on this sprang back, and, throwing down their weapons, cried for mercy.

"I saw you do it, my lad," said the lieutenant. "The second time you have saved my life. I'll not forget it."

The English sailors now had work enough to do to prevent the Frenchmen from rising. While sail was being made, numerous boats also were seen coming off from the shore full of armed men, evidently with the intention of attempting to board the prize. Sail after sail was let drop, and the ship ran faster and faster through the water. She was not, however, as yet entirely won. Her crew, though beaten down below, were still very numerous, and might, should they find the boats of their friends coming alongside, at any moment rise and try to regain her. The fort also had to be passed, and the garrison were sure to have heard the uproar and would open fire as soon as she got within range of their guns.

Notwithstanding this, the British seamen performed their various duties as steadily as if they were on board their own ship. Some were aloft, loosing sails; others ran out the guns, ready to give the boats a warm reception, and others kept an eye on the prisoners.

The breeze freshened, and the prize in a short time reached the mouth of the harbour. No sooner had she done so than the guns from the fort, as had been expected, opened fire, and their shot, thick as hail, came crashing on board. Several men were struck, and the sails shot through and through. None of the yards, however, were carried away, and the canvas stood filled out with the breeze.

A number of prisoners had remained on deck, with sentries over them, as the shot struck the ship. Several, to avoid it, endeavoured to escape below. Some succeeded, not waiting to descend by the ladders, but leaping down, to the no small risk of breaking their arms and legs. There was still more sail to be set, and Bill was pulling and hauling, when he saw a shot come plump in among a party of prisoners. Three fell; the rest, in spite of the sentries, making a desperate rush, leapt down the main hatchway.

Bill at that moment saw a young Frenchman, who had been struck, struggling on the deck, and a voice crying out which he thought he recognised.

He sprang towards the sailor, and lifted him up. He was not mistaken; it was his friend Pierre.

"Are you badly hurt?" he asked in French.

"I'm afraid so, in my side," was the answer. "My poor mother, and Jeannette, I shall never see them more."

"I hope that things are not so bad as that," responded Bill. "I will try and get you below. Here!" and he called to one of the prisoners who had remained on deck, and who, being very glad to get out of the way of the shot, willingly assisted Bill in dragging the wounded man to the companion-hatchway, down which the two together lifted him, and placed him in the gun-room.

Fortunately the French surgeon had been ill in his berth, but had now got up, prepared to attend to his professional duties. As yet, however, none of the wounded prisoners had been brought aft, and Pierre, who had been placed on the gun-room table, was the first man the surgeon took under his care.

"He is not badly hurt, I hope," said Bill, rather anxiously.

"That's more than I can say, my young friend," answered the surgeon, "but I will attend to him. I shall have patients enough on my hands directly, I fear."

Bill felt that he ought not to remain a moment longer below, though he greatly wished to learn how much Pierre had been injured. All he could do, therefore, was to press his friend's hand, and spring up again on deck.

The battery was still firing away at the prize, and every now and then a crashing sound, as the shot struck her, showed that she was within range of its guns; but she was rapidly distancing the boats, which could now only be dimly seen astern.

The British crew raised a cheer when they found that they had to a certainty secured their prize. Still the battery continued firing, but not another shot struck her, and at length the dim outline of the Thisbe was seen ahead. Shortly afterwards the prize, rounding to under the frigate's quarter, was received with hearty cheers by her crew.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE POWDER MONKEY GETS HIS FIRST STEP UP THE RATLINES.

The British wounded, and the French prisoners captured in the prize, were forthwith taken on board the Thisbe, when both ships made sail to get a good offing from the coast before daylight. Mr Saltwell remained in command of the prize with the crew which had so gallantly won her. The wounded Frenchmen were also allowed to continue on board under charge of their surgeon, with an English assistant-surgeon to help him, for there were upwards of forty poor fellows who required his care.

Bill was glad to find that he had not to go back to his own ship, as he wanted to look after Pierre, and as soon as his duty would allow him he went below to learn how his young French friend was getting on. When he asked for the man whom he had brought down, the doctor pointed to one of the officer's cabins in the gun-room, observing, "He is somewhat badly hurt, but there are others still more cruelly knocked about who require my care, and I have not been able to attend to him for some time."

Bill hurried into the cabin. A faint voice replied to him.

"Merci, merci! It is very kind of you to come and see me, but I fear that I shall not get over it," said Pierre. "Is there no chance of our returning to France? I should like to die under my father's roof, and see my mother and Jeannette once more."

"There's no chance of your getting back for the present, but I hope you will see your mother and sister notwithstanding," answered Bill. "We are running across the Channel, and shall be in an English port in a day or two, when you will be landed, and I will ask the captain to let me take care of you. I should like to prove how grateful I am for all your kindness to me and Jack Peek, and I will tell Mr Saltwell, the lieutenant who commands this ship, how you and your family treated me. But I don't think you ought to talk; I came to see if I could do anything for you."

"My lips are parched; I am very thirsty; I should like something to drink," answered Pierre.

"I will see what I can find," said Bill; and making his way to the steward's pantry outside the captain's cabin, he hunted about until he discovered some lemons. He quickly squeezed out the juice of a couple of them, and mixing it with water, brought the beverage to Pierre, who drank it eagerly. It much revived him.

"I was very unfortunate to be on board the Atlante when you captured her, for I had no wish to fight the English," said Pierre. "Only ten days ago I was persuaded to come on board to see a friend, and the crew would not let me return on shore. However, I was determined to make the best of it, hoping before long to get back to my family, and be able to assist my father. And now to be cut down by my own countrymen, for it was a shot from the battery on shore which wounded me. It is more than I can bear!"

"Don't think about it," said Bill; "you are safe from further harm, and will be well taken care of; and when you have recovered, and the war is over, you will be able to go back. I must leave you now, but I will come and see you as often as I can. I have placed the jug of lemonade close to your head, where it cannot slip. When that is gone I will get some more; it is the best thing you can take at present."

Saying this, Bill hurried back to attend to his duty on deck, for, young as he was, as the prize was short-handed, he had plenty of work to do. Several times he passed Mr Saltwell, who gave him a kind look or said a word or two of encouragement, but did not allude to the service Bill had done him.

"He probably has forgotten all about my having shot the French boatswain," thought Bill. "I only did my duty, and if anybody else had been in his place I should have done the same."

The frigate and her fresh prize were meantime making the best of their way across the Channel. As the latter, a fast sailor, was not materially injured, all sail was made on her, and she kept good way with the Thisbe. At the same time there was still the risk of either one or both being taken by a French ship of superior force, though neither was likely to yield without making every effort to escape. A constant look-out was kept from the mast-head, but as the ships got farther and farther from the French coast, the hope of escaping without having again to fight increased.

Several sail were seen in the distance, but it was supposed that they were either merchantmen, standing up or down Channel, in spite of the enemy's cruisers on the watch to pick them up, or privateers, and, seeing that the Thisbe was a frigate, took good care to keep out of her way.

At length the entrance to Plymouth Sound was descried, and the Thisbe and her prize stood up it triumphantly with colours flying, creating considerable astonishment at her quick return with another capture. Both were soon moored in Hamoaze, when the Atlante, a fine little ship, carrying twenty guns on one deck, was handed over to the prize agents with the full expectation that she would be bought into the service. The prisoners were carried on shore, the wounded men were taken to the hospital, and the prize crew returned on board their own ship.

Bill had been very anxious to accompany Pierre, that he might watch over him with more care than strangers could do, but he had had no opportunity of asking leave of Mr Saltwell.

He had not been long on board the frigate, and was giving an account of the boarding expedition to Jack and Tom, when he heard his name called along the decks.

"Boy Rayner, the captain has sent for you into the cabin," said the master-at-arms.

"What can you be wanted for!" exclaimed Tom. "Look out for squalls. I shouldn't like to be in your shoes."

"No fear of that," said Jack. "Maybe the first lieutenant has told the captain how Bill saved his life. I wish that I had had a chance of doing something of the sort."

Bill, however, did not stop to hear the remarks of his two friends, but hurried aft, thinking that now would be the time to say something in poor Pierre's favour.

The sentry, who knew that he had been sent for, allowed him to pass without question, and he soon found himself in the presence of the captain and Mr Saltwell, who were seated at the table in the main cabin. Bill stood, hat in hand, ready to answer any questions which might be put to him.

"William Rayner," said the captain, "you have, I understand, behaved remarkably well on several occasions, twice especially, by saving Mr Saltwell's life through your coolness and presence of mind. You are also, I find, a fair French scholar, and the first lieutenant reports favourably of your conduct in your former ship. I wish to reward you. Let me know how I can best do so in a way satisfactory to yourself."

"I only did my duty without thinking of being rewarded," answered Bill; "but I have been wishing since we took the prize that something could be done for a young Frenchman who was badly hurt on board her by a shot from the battery which fired at us. He and his father saved Jack Peek and me from drowning when we were blown up in the Foxhound, and his family were afterwards very kind to us, and did their utmost to save us from being carried off to prison, and when we were hid away in a cave, his sister, at great risk, brought us food. He will now be amongst strangers, who do not understand his lingo, and the poor fellow will be very sad and solitary; so I think he would like it, if I could get leave to go and stay with him while the frigate remains in harbour. I'll take it as a great favour, sir, since you ask me what reward I should like, if you can let me go and be with him at the hospital, or if that cannot be, if he may be removed to some lodging where he can be well looked after until he recovers and is sent back to his own home."

"There may be some difficulty in doing as you propose," replied the captain. "Mr Saltwell will, however, I have no doubt, try to make a satisfactory arrangement, for a person behaving as the young Frenchman has done deserves to be rewarded; but that is not what I meant; I want you to choose some reward for yourself, and wish you to let me know how I can best serve you."

"Thank you, sir," answered Bill. "I cannot think just now of anything I require, though I should be very glad if I could get Pierre sent back to his family."

"Your parents, perhaps, will be able to decide better than you can do, then. Your father or mother," observed the captain.

"I have neither father nor mother, sir," answered Bill. "They are both dead."

"Your relatives and friends might decide," said the captain.

"I have no relatives or friends, nor any one to care for me that I know of," said Bill, in a quiet voice.

"Then Mr Saltwell and I must settle the matter," said Captain Martin. "Should you like to be placed on the quarter-deck? If you go on as you have begun, and let duty alone guide you on all occasions, you will, if you live, rise in the service and be an honour to it."

Bill almost gasped for breath as he heard this. He knew that the captain was in earnest, and he looked at him, and then at Mr Saltwell, but could not speak.

"Come, say what you wish, my lad," said Captain Martin, in an encouraging tone.

Still Bill was silent.

"You will have opportunities of improving your education, and you need not fear about being well received by the young gentlemen in the midshipmen's berth," observed Mr Saltwell. "Captain Martin and I will make arrangements for giving you an outfit and supplying you with such funds as you will require, besides which you will come in for a midshipman's share of prize-money."

The kind way in which the captain and first lieutenant spoke greatly assisted Bill to find his tongue and to express himself appropriately.

"I am grateful, sirs, for your offer, and hope that I always shall be grateful. If you think that I am fit to become a midshipman, I will try to do my duty as such, so I accept your offer with all my heart."

Bill, overpowered by his feelings, could say no more.

"The matter is settled, then," said the captain; and sending for the purser, he at once entered the name of William Rayner as a midshipman on the ship's books, the only formality requisite in those days, though his rank would afterwards have to be confirmed at the Admiralty.

The purser observed that he had a suit of clothes belonging to one of the midshipmen killed in the action with the French frigate, which would, he thought, exactly fit Mr Rayner.

Bill felt very curious at hearing himself so spoken of.

The purser said that he would debit him with them at a moderate price.

The captain approving of this proposal, Bill, in the course of a few minutes, found himself dressed in a midshipman's uniform. He could scarcely believe his senses. It seemed to him as if by the power of an enchanter's wand he had been changed into some one else.

The first lieutenant then desired him to accompany him, and leading the way down to the berth, in which a number of the young gentlemen were assembled for dinner, he stopped at the door.

"I wish, young gentlemen, to present a new messmate to you," he said, looking in. "Mr William Rayner! He has gained his position by exhibiting those qualities which I am sure you all admire, and you will, I have no doubt, treat him as a friend."

The members of the mess who were present rose and cordially put out their hands towards Bill, whom the first lieutenant, taking by the aim, drew into the berth.

Mr Saltwell then returned on deck.

Bill naturally felt very bashful, but his new messmates did their best to set him at ease, and no one alluded to his former position. They spoke only of the late action, and begged him to give a description of the way in which he had saved Mr Saltwell's life, a vague account of which they had heard.

Bill complied, modestly, not saying more about himself than was necessary. What he said gained him the applause of his new messmates, and raised him greatly in their estimation; he therefore found himself far more at his ease than he had expected would be possible; no one by word or deed showing that they recollected that he had been just before a ship's boy, but all treated him as an equal.

His only regret now was that he could no longer talk with Jack and Tom as he had been accustomed to do, though he hoped that he should still be able, without doing anything derogatory to his new position, to speak to them in a friendly way. Thinking highly of Jack as he did, he regretted more than ever that his former messmate could neither read nor write. He felt sure that he would, should he have an opportunity, do something to merit promotion.

Bill commenced his new duties with a spirit and alacrity which was remarked by his superior officers. He had narrowly observed the way the midshipmen conducted themselves, and was thus able to behave as well as the best of them. He was a little puzzled at first at dinner, but by seeing what others did he soon got over the slight difficulty he had to encounter.

Next day Mr Saltwell called him up as he was walking the quarter-deck.

"I have been making inquiries as to what can be done for your friend Pierre Turgot," he said. "As you told me he was not willingly on board the privateer, I was able to state that in his favour, and I have obtained leave for him to be removed to a private house, where he can remain until he has recovered, and he will then, I hope, be allowed to return to France without waiting for an exchange of prisoners. Were he to be sent back with others, he would probably at once be compelled to serve afloat, and his great desire is, I understand, to return to his own family, to follow his former occupation of a fisherman."

"Thank you, sir," exclaimed Bill, "I cannot be too grateful to you for your kindness."

"Don't talk of that, my lad; if it hadn't been for your courage and coolness I should not have been here. I am now going on shore, and wish you to accompany me. I have seen the widow of an old shipmate of mine who is willing to receive Pierre into her house, and to attend to him. We will have him removed at once, so that when we sail you will know he is placed under good care."



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

WILLIAM RAYNER IS ENABLED TO SHOW HIS GRATITUDE TO PIERRE.

Will at once got ready to attend the first lieutenant. The boat being alongside, they were soon on shore. Their first visit was to the hospital, which, being overcrowded, the authorities were glad to get rid of one of their patients. Pierre was placed in a litter and conveyed, accompanied by Mr Saltwell and Bill, to the residence of Mrs Crofton, a neat cottage standing by itself in a small garden. A pretty little girl about thirteen years of age opened the door, and on seeing the strangers summoned her mother, who at once appeared, and led the way to the room she had prepared for Pierre's reception. It was on the ground-floor, and contained a dimity-covered bed, and a few other simple articles of furniture, quite sufficient for all the young French sailor's wants.

Pierre again and again thanked Bill for having brought him to so delightful a place.

"Ah!" he said, "that lady," looking at Mrs Crofton, "reminds me of my mother, and the little girl is just like Jeannette, when she was younger. And they are so kind and gentle! I shall get well very soon, though I think I should have died if I had remained at the hospital, where I was nearly stifled, while day and night I heard the oaths and groans of my wounded compatriots, who abuse the English as the cause of their suffering, regardless of the care that is being taken of them."

"I was very sure you would recover sooner in a quiet house by yourself, and therefore I begged my officer to have you removed," said Bill.

It was not for some time that Pierre remarked the new midshipman's uniform.

"Why, you told me you were a ship's boy, now I see you dressed as an officer!" he exclaimed, in a tone of astonishment. "The gendarmes were right after all."

"No, they were wrong," answered Bill. "I was then what I told you, but I am now a midshipman."

He then gave an account to Pierre of how he had been promoted. Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Mrs Crofton and Mary with some food for their patient, as the doctor had told Mr Saltwell that he should be fed often, though with but little at a time. As Mrs Crofton could speak French, she did not require Bill to interpret for her.

He was glad to find that Pierre would be able to converse with his kind hostess Mr Saltwell, who had gone into the drawing-room, now told Bill that he might stay with Pierre until the evening, and that he should have leave to visit him every day while the frigate remained in harbour.

The first lieutenant now took his leave, and Mrs Crofton observing that "Pierre would be the better for some sleep, after the excitement of being moved," invited Bill into her sitting-room, she naturally wishing to hear more about his adventures in France than Mr Saltwell had been able to tell her. Bill himself was perfectly willing to talk away on the subject as long as she wished, especially when he found so ready a listener in Mary. He began with an account of the blowing up of the Foxhound; and when he had finished, Mrs Crofton wished to know how it was that he first came to go to sea, and so he had to go back to tell her all about himself, and the death of his mother, and how he had been left penniless in the world.

"And now I find you a midshipman with warm friends; in a few years you will be a lieutenant, then a commander, and next a post-captain, I hope, and at length a British admiral, and you will have gained your promotion without the interest of relatives or born friends, simply by your own good conduct and bravery."

"I don't know what I may become, ma'am," said Bill, inclined to smile at Mrs Crofton's enthusiasm. "At present I am but a midshipman, but I will try, as I always have, to do my duty."

This conversation made Bill feel perfectly at home with Mrs Crofton. Indeed, it seemed to him as if he had known her all his life, so that he was willing to confide in her as if she were his mother.

He was equally willing to confide in Mary. Indeed, all the reserve he at first felt quickly wore off, and he talked to her as if she had been his sister. If he did not say to himself that she was a perfect angel, he thought her what most people would consider very much better—a kind, good, honest, open-hearted girl, with clear hazel, truthful eyes, and a sweet smile on her mouth when she smiled, which was very frequently, with a hearty ring in her laughter. She reminded him, as she did Pierre, of Jeannette, and Bill felt very sure that, should she ever have the opportunity of helping any one in distress, she would be ready to take as much trouble and run as many risks as the French girl had in assisting Jack and him.

"Do you know, Mr Rayner, I like midshipmen very much?" she said, in her artless way. "My brother Oliver is a midshipman, and as I am very fond of him, I like all midshipmen for his sake. At first I was inclined to like you because you were a midshipman, but now I like you for yourself."

"I am much obliged to you," said Bill; "and I like you for yourself, I can tell you. I didn't know before that you had a brother Oliver. Where is he serving?"

"On board the Ariel corvette in the West Indies," answered Mary.

"Perhaps some day we may fall in with each other," said Bill; "and I am very sure, from what you say about him, we shall become good friends, for I shall be inclined to like him for your sake."

"Then I'm sure he will like you; he could not help doing so. He is only three years older than I am; just about your age I suppose. He went to sea when he was a very little fellow with poor dear papa, who was killed in action. Oliver was by his side at the time, and wrote us home an account of the sad, sad event, saying how brokenhearted he was. The people were very kind to him. Papa was lieutenant of the ship, and was loved by all the men, as I am sure he would have been, remembering how good and kind and gentle he was with us."

The tears came into Mary's bright eyes as she spoke of her father.

"Whenever we hear of a battle out there, poor mamma is very anxious until the particulars come home, and she knows that Oliver is safe," said Mary. "We are nearly sure to get a letter from him, for he always writes when he can, and I hope that you'll write also when you are away, and tell us all that you are doing; then we shall receive two letters instead of one, and we shall always be so very, very glad to hear from you."

Bill promised that he would write constantly, saying that he should be pleased to do so, especially as he had not many correspondents; indeed, he might have said that he had none, as he was, in truth, not acquainted with anybody on shore. Mary and her mother were the first friends he had ever possessed, so that he very naturally valued them the more. They were of very great service to him in many respects, for Mrs Crofton was a ladylike and refined person, though her means were small, and she was able to give him instruction in the ways and manners of people of education; though Bill was so observant, and anxious to imitate what was right, that he only required the opportunity to fit himself thoroughly for his new station in life.

Mr Saltwell lent him books, and he read during every spare moment, to make amends for his want of early education.

When he came on shore, Mrs Crofton assisted him, and as she knew French very well, helped him to study it with a grammar and dictionary, which he found very easy, as he already understood so much of the language, and he was able to practise speaking with Pierre.

The young Frenchman slowly recovered, but the doctor, who came to visit him from the hospital every day, said that it would be a long time before he would regain strength and be able to return to France.

Bill had written, at Pierre's dictation, to Madame Turgot, to tell her where he was, what had happened to him, and how well he was treated. It was rather a funny composition, as Pierre was no great scholar, and could not say how the words should be spelt, but Bill showed it to Mrs Crofton, who assured him that it would be understood perfectly well, which was the great object required, and that Madame Turgot would be satisfied, from the tone and expression, that it came from her son.

There was no regular post in those days between the two countries. Pierre, however, at length got an answer from his mother, directed to the care of Mrs Crofton, expressing her heartfelt thanks to Lieutenant Saltwell and Bill, and the kind lady who had befriended him. She sent also many messages from Captain Turgot and Jeannette.

The letter arrived just as the Thisbe was ready for sea. Mary could not help bursting into tears when Bill took his leave for the last time.

"It's just like Oliver going away," she said. Indeed, it was evident that she looked upon Bill as another Oliver, and even Mrs Crofton showed how sincerely sorry she was to part with her young visitor, who had so greatly won on her affections.

She promised to write again to Madame Turgot to let her know how Pierre was getting on; but there appeared no probability of his being able to move until the frigate came back, when Mr Saltwell would be able to make arrangements for his return to France.

Though sorry to leave his kind friends, Bill was very glad to be at sea again, and engaged in the active duties of his profession. His messmates treated him with much kindness, and remarked among themselves the improvement in his manners, while two or three fresh members of the mess, when they heard how he had gained his promotion, looked upon him with evident respect. He did not, however, forget his old friends, and Jack was always pleased when he came forward to talk to him, and did not appear at all jealous, which could not be said of Tom, who, though he did not venture to show his feelings, was inclined to keep out of his way, and sometimes answered in rather a surly tone when spoken to, always taking care to bring in the "sir" after every sentence, and touching his hat with mock respect, of which Bill, though he could not fail to observe, took no notice.

The Thisbe had been several weeks at sea, and had during that time captured, without firing a shot, three of the enemy's merchantmen, which she had sent into Plymouth, the more pugnacious of the crew grumbling at not having encountered an enemy worthy of their prowess, and which would have afforded them a larger amount of prize-money.

Captain Martin was about to return to port to take on board his officers and men when he was joined by the Venus frigate. Her captain told him that he had just before made out two French frigates to the south-east, and the Thisbe bore up with the Venus in chase, with every stitch of canvas they could carry set.

A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and the French frigates, which had been seen to the eastward, had a considerable start of their pursuers. Still, as they had been under moderate canvas, it was hoped that they would set no more sail, and might thus be overtaken.

A sharp look-out was kept, and the officers were continually going aloft with their glasses, and sweeping the horizon from north to south, in the hopes of espying the enemy.

"I say, Jack, do you think if we come up with those two Frenchmen we are chasing they'll turn round and fight us?" asked Tom, who thought it much pleasanter to capture unarmed merchant vessels than to have to fight an enemy which sent round shots and bullets on board in return.

"No doubt about that, youngster," answered Ben Twinch, the boatswain's mate, who overheard Tom's remark. "What do you think we come to sea for? If we can take a man-of-war of our own size she's worth half a dozen merchant craft, though, to be sure, some of us may lose the number of our mess; but we all know that, and make no count of it. Maybe you'll have your head taken off one of these days, and if you do, you'll only share the fate of many another fine fellow."

"I hope not!" cried Tom, mechanically putting up his hand to his head as if to hold it on, and turning from Ben.

"Never fear!" said Jack, wishing to console him; "the chances are that you will escape and live to fight another day."

If Tom had any fear, it was not the time to show it. He heard all around him speak of fighting as if it were fun, and of death with seeming levity. It is the way of the young and the thoughtless. Old sailors and old soldiers seldom talk thus, and think more of duty than of glory. For young or for old the loss of life is not a matter for light talk, as if death were only the end of it. Those that cause war will have much to reckon for hereafter. But there is no time for such thoughts in sight of the enemy. So we must go on with our story.

The midshipmen aft were universally anxious to come up with the vessels of which they were in chase. It was supposed that they were frigates of the same size as their own and the Venus; but should they prove much larger, they were equally ready to engage them.

Still, hour after hour went by, and no enemy appearing, they began to fear that the Frenchmen would get into port before they could be overtaken. At length, just before the sun reached the horizon, his rays fell on the royals and topgallantsails of two ships right ahead. As the sun sank lower they were again lost to view, but their appearance revived the hopes of all on board. It was not likely that they would alter their course during the night, and it was hoped, therefore, that before morning they would be overtaken. It was not likely that the Thisbe and Venus, being in the shadow, would have been perceived.

"The chances are that we shall be upon them in the dark," said Jack to Tom; "and we'll surprise them, I've a notion. The captain thinks so, or he wouldn't have given the order to prepare for action."

"I would rather fight in daylight," said Tom, "and I hope they'll manage to keep ahead till then."

Jack laughed, for he suspected that Tom would rather not fight at all.

The watch below were ordered to turn in as usual, but most of the officers kept on deck, too eager for the work to be able to sleep.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ACTION BETWEEN THE "THISBE" AND A FRENCH FRIGATE.

Rayner—for such he ought now to be called—who was in the middle watch, was standing forward on the look-out, and, as may be supposed, he did not allow an eye to wink. Several times he thought that he could see two dark objects rising above the horizon, but his imagination might have deceived him, for they, at all events, grew no larger. When his watch was over, he came aft into the midshipmen's berth, where several of his messmates were collected. He might have turned in, for the night was drawing on, but there were still two hours to daylight. He, as well as others, dropped asleep with their heads on the table.

They were aroused from their uncomfortable slumbers by the boatswain's call, piping the hammocks up, and on coming on deck the first thing they saw were the two ships they had been chasing all night directly ahead, their topsails just rising above the water. Their hopes revived that they would come up with them before the day was many hours older; still the strangers were a long way out of range of their bow chasers.

As the sun rose and shone on their own canvas they knew that they must be clearly seen, and it was hoped that the two ships would, if their captains were inclined to fight, heave to and await their coming.

Such, however, it was evidently the intention of the Frenchman not to do, for it was seen that studding-sails were being set below and aloft.

"Still they may not have the heels of us," observed Captain Martin to the first lieutenant; "and before they get into Cherbourg we may be up to them."

It was thought that as the day advanced the wind might increase, but in this Captain Martin was disappointed. At length, towards evening, Cape La Hogue and the coast of France, to the westward of Cherbourg, appeared in sight. In a few hours it was too probable that the French ships would get safe into port.

Remarks not over complimentary to the valour of the Frenchmen were made by the crews of the English frigates, when they saw that the enemy had escaped them; but as Jack observed, "There's no use grumbling; the mounseers have got away from us because they knew the tremendous drubbing we would have given them."

"Perhaps we may see them again before long," said Tom, his courage returning now that all danger of an encounter had passed. "Depend on it, our captain will do his best to give them a taste of our quality."

Tom was right; for although the Thisbe and Venus had to haul their wind, and stand off shore, a bright look-out was kept, in the hopes that the French frigates might again put to sea.

Day after day passed, and at length the Venus parted company from the Thisbe. The latter frigate was standing across Channel when a lugger was sighted, to which she gave chase. The stranger at first made all sail, as if to escape. She was at length seen to heave to. On coming up with her, it was at first doubtful whether she was English or French, but as the frigate approached she hoisted English colours and lowered a boat, which in a short time came alongside, and a fine, intelligent-looking man stepping upon deck, announced himself as master of the lugger. He had, he said, at first taken the Thisbe for a French frigate which was in the habit of coming out of Cherbourg every evening, picking up any prizes she could fall in with, and returning next morning with them into port. He had, indeed, narrowly escaped once before.

This was valuable information, and Captain Martin determined to act upon it, in the hopes of capturing the marauder. Being engaged in particular service, the master of the lugger was allowed to proceed on his way, and the Thisbe stood back towards Cherbourg.

The day passed, and no enemy appeared. Next morning, however, a sail was seen to the northward. Captain Martin immediately bore up to ascertain her character. As the daylight increased, all felt confident that she was a frigate, and probably French. The stranger was seen to be carrying a press of canvas, and apparently steering for Cherbourg. To re-enter that port she must encounter the Thisbe, on board which preparations were made for the expected engagement. The stranger, too, continuing her course, hauled her wind, and stood down Channel, as if anxious to escape. Why she did so it was difficult to say, except on the possibility that she had seen another English ship to the northward, and was unwilling to encounter two enemies at once.

It was the general opinion that she was a powerful frigate, considerably larger than the Thisbe; but even if such were the case, Captain Martin was not the man to be deterred from engaging her. The stranger sailed well, and there appeared every probability that she would distance the Thisbe, and if she wished it, get back to port without coming to action.

In a short time the weather became very thick, and, to the disappointment of all, the stranger was lost sight of. Still the Thisbe continued her course, and many a sharp pair of eyes were employed in looking out for the Frenchman, it being difficult to say, should the fog lift, in what direction she might next be seen. She might tack and run back to Cherbourg, or she might, trusting to her superior sailing, stand across the Thisbe's bows to the southward.

A couple of hours passed. As at any moment the fog might clear away, and the stranger might appear close aboard her, the Thisbe prepared for immediate action. The men had been sent below to dinner, and the prospect of a fight did not damp their appetites.

The midshipmen had finished theirs, and Rayner, who had just relieved one of his messmates on deck, was on the look-out when he espied, away on the larboard bow, a sail through the fog, which had somewhat dispersed in that quarter. A second glance convinced him that she was a large ship. He instantly shouted out the welcome intelligence. Every one hoped that she was the vessel they were in search of. The drum beat to quarters, and scarcely were the guns run out than the fog clearing still more discovered a large frigate standing under all sail to the eastward, about half a mile away. If she were the one they had before seen, she had evidently acted as Captain Martin had supposed might be the case, and having crossed the Thisbe's course, had then kept away, hoping to get in shore of her and back to Cherbourg. At once the Thisbe was put about, and then stood so as to cross the stranger's bows. The latter, on seeing this, hoisting French colours, rapidly shortened sail and hauled up to the northward, the two ships crossing each other on contrary tacks. The Thisbe fired her starboard broadside, receiving one in return, and then going about, endeavoured to get to windward of her antagonist. This, however, she was unable to do, and was compelled to continue the engagement to leeward. Her crew fought with the usual courage of British seamen, but the enemy's shot were making fearful havoc on her masts and rigging. Her three lower masts and bowsprit were in a short time wounded in several places, most of her stays were shot away, and much damage was done to the main rigging.

At length her main-topsail yard was shot away in the slings by a double-headed shot, and the yard-arms came down in front of the mainyard, the leech ropes of the mainsail were cut to pieces and the sail riddled. All the time, also, whenever the ships were within musket-range, showers of bullets came rattling on board, and several of the men were laid low.

Still Captain Martin did not attempt to escape from his opponent, which was seen to have twenty guns on a side, besides quarter-deck guns, and a number of men armed with muskets. He hoped, by perseverance, to knock away her masts or inflict such other serious injury as might compel her to give in.

This was Rayner's first action since he had attained his present rank. He endeavoured to maintain his character, and though it was trying work to see his shipmates struck down on either side of him, he did not for a moment think of himself or the risk he ran of meeting the same fate. All the time spars, rigging, and blocks were falling from aloft, shot away by the hot fire of the enemy. He endeavoured to keep himself cool and composed, and to execute the orders he received.

Jack and Tom were employed as powder-monkeys on the maindeck, when Rayner was sent by the captain to ascertain what was going on. As he went along it he passed his two friends.

Jack was as active as ever, handing up the powder required; poor Tom looked the picture of misery.

"Ain't the enemy going to strike yet, Mr Rayner?" he asked, in a melancholy tone; "we've been a long time about it, and I thought they would have given in long ago."

"I hope they soon will have enough of it and give in, and we must blaze away at them until they do," answered the midshipman, hurrying on.

Just then a shot came crashing in through the side, passing just where Rayner had been standing, sending the splinters flying about in all directions. He had not time to look round, but thought he heard a cry as if some one had been hit, and he hurried on to deliver his message to the second lieutenant.

On his way back he took a glance to see how it fared with his two friends. Tom was seated on his tub, but poor Jack lay stretched on deck. Rayner, hastening to him, lifted him up.

"I'm only hit in the leg," answered Jack to his inquiries. "It hurt me very much, and I fell, but I'll try to do my duty." How barbarous is war!

Rayner, however, saw that this was impossible, as the blood was flowing rapidly from the wounded limb, and calling one of the people appointed to attend those who were hurt, he ordered him to carry Jack below. "Tell the surgeons he's badly wounded, and get them to attend to him at once," he said.

He longed to be able to go himself, but his duty compelled him to return to the upper deck. Scarcely had he got there than he saw, to his grief, that the enemy had dropped under the stern, and the next instant, discharging her broadside, she raked the Thisbe fore and aft. In vain the latter tried to escape from her critical position; before she could do so she was a second time raked, the gaff being shot away, the mizenmast injured, and the remaining rigging cut through and through. Fortunately, the Thisbe still answered her helm, and the crew were endeavouring to make sail, when the enemy ranged up on the starboard quarter, her forecastle being covered with men, evidently intending to board.

Captain Martin, on seeing this, sent Rayner below with orders to double shot the after-maindeck guns, and to fire them as the enemy came close up. The next he shouted the cry which British seamen are always ready to obey, "Boarders, repel boarders;" and every man not engaged at the guns hurried aft, cutlass in hand, ready to drive back the foe as soon as the ships should touch; but ere that moment arrived, an iron shower issued from the guns beneath their feet, crashing through the Frenchman's bows and tearing along her decks. Instead of coming on, she suddenly threw all her sails aback, and hauled off out of gunshot. On seeing this, the British crew uttered three hearty cheers, and Rayner, with others who had hurried from below, fully believed that the enemy had hauled down her flag, but instead of that, under all the sail she could carry, she continued standing away until she had got two miles off. Here she hove-to, in order, it was evident, to repair damages. These must have been very severe, for many of her men were seen over the sides engaged in stopping shot-holes, while the water, which issued forth in cascades, showed that the pumps were being worked with might and main to keep her from sinking.

The Thisbe was in too crippled a condition to follow. Several shot had passed between wind and water on both sides. One gun on the quarter-deck and two on the maindeck were dismounted, and almost all the tackles and breachings were cut away. The maindeck before the mainmast was torn up from the waterway to the hatchways, and the bits were shot away, as was the chief part of the gangways. Not an officer had been killed, but two midshipmen, the master, and gunner, were wounded. Twenty men were wounded and eleven lost the number of their mess.

The wind, which had been moderate when the action began, had now greatly increased. Not a moment was lost in commencing the repair of damages. The sky indicated the approach of bad weather, and a westerly or south-westerly gale might be expected. Before all the shot-holes could be stopped it came on to blow very hard. Plymouth being too far to the westward, the nearest shelter the Thisbe could reach was Portland, towards which she steered.

The moon coming forth, she had light sufficient to run in and anchor, protected by the projecting headland from the furious gale now blowing.

Many a brave man on board besides the captain breathed more freely than they had done for some hours when the anchor was dropped and the torn canvas furled. Still the Thisbe would be in a critical position should the wind shift more to the southward, as she would be exposed to the seas rolling into the bay.



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

THE SHIPWRECK.

As soon as Rayner could obtain a spare moment, he hastened below to visit poor Jack. He met Tom on the way.

"Jack's very bad, Mr Rayner," answered Tom to his inquiries. "He didn't know me just now; he's talking about his mother, and fancying she's nursing him."

This news made our hero feel very sad, and he hurried on to the lower deck, where the wounded lay in their hammocks, sheltered by a canvas screen.

He inquired of one of the attendants where Jack Peek was, and soon found him, the surgeon being by his side dressing his wound.

"I'm much afraid that he will slip through our fingers unless we can manage to quell the fever. He requires constant watching, and that is more than he can well obtain, with so many men laid up, and so much to do," said the doctor as he finished his task. "However, Rayner, if you can stay by him, I'll be back in a few minutes to see how he's getting on. In the meantime give him this medicine; if he comes to his senses, a word or two from you may do him good."

Though Rayner himself could scarcely stand from fatigue, he undertook to do as the doctor requested. He waited until he saw, by the light of the lantern hung up from a beam overhead, that Jack had come somewhat to himself, when he got him to take the draught he held in his hand.