Both offered up their thanks to Heaven for their preservation, when, Owen's strength failing, he sank down on the sand. Langton was the first to recover.

"Do not wait for me," said Owen. "I suppose you'll make the best of your way along, the shore until you get abreast of the ship, unless you can find a native boat before then to take you off to her?"

"That's what I propose doing," answered Langton; "but I will not leave you until you regain your strength."

In a few minutes Owen declared himself able to walk.

"Before we start let us try to find out whether any natives are near; they may be able to help us," said Langton.

They shouted at the top of their voices, but no reply was heard. They did so, believing that all the natives were friendly in that region.

"We must get help without delay," said Langton. "That we may have a double chance, I suggest, Owen, that you try to make your way back to Gorontello, which cannot be more than three or four miles off, while I go down towards the ship. If I fall in with a native boat, I will go off at once; if not, I will make a signal from the shore with a big bonfire, and Mr Leigh is pretty sure to send in a boat to learn the cause. You must, in the meantime, endeavour to obtain a boat. You are certain to find some one to interpret for you; promise a handsome reward to those who succeed in discovering the captain and the rest."

The plan was no sooner arranged than acted on. Owen, as fast as his legs could carry him, started along the shore in one direction, and Langton in the other. Sometimes Owen found the sand smooth enough, but at others he came to rough rocks, over which he had to climb. Now and then he saw a light on his left twinkling in the distance, but he passed no human habitation. Again and again, however, he shouted, hoping that some fisherman's boat might be concealed among the rocks. No one came near him, and he concluded that the people had retired for the night to their homes. Often, overcome by fatigue, he felt inclined to stop, but remembering that the lives of his captain and shipmates were at stake, he pushed on, now running at full speed along the sand, and now climbing over the rough ground.

At length, greatly to his joy, he saw some lights ahead, they showed that he was approaching the town. "I hope that all the people have not gone to bed. It will be a hard matter to rouse them up," he thought. "The lights show that some are up at all events." At length he got among the houses, or rather huts, for few of the buildings deserved a grander name. Some of the natives came out and stared at him, but he could not make them understand what he wanted. They did not, probably, recognise him as one of the smartly dressed officers who had paid a visit to the sultan in the morning. They saw, however, that he was a stranger. At last one made signs to him that he would show him where a person lived who could understand what he said; so Owen fancied was the meaning of the native's gesticulations. "Yes, quick," answered Owen.

The native led the way along several rows of huts, until they reached the door of a building of superior pretensions with a broad verandah overlooking the harbour. Owen at once called out—

"Does any one understand English here? If so, I want their assistance without delay. I can promise a handsome reward to all who give it."

"Come in, come in," said a voice in a foreign accent. A native appeared at the door with a light in his hand. "Mynheer Van Wijk will see you," said he, as he conducted Owen into a room where a white man was reclining in a hammock, with a huge pipe in his mouth, whom he supposed to be Mynheer Van Wijk, the owner of the mansion.

"Vat you want?" exclaimed Mynheer, gazing at Owen, as he stood, shoeless and hatless, in his still damp shirt and trousers.

Owen, in as few words as possible, explained who he was, and the accident which had happened.

"Donder en bliksem, dat is bad," exclaimed the Dutchman, tumbling out of his hammock and putting on his coat and shoes. "Dare is no time to lose; we must go off at once. And you, young gentleman, want food and clothing. You'll be getting fever if we don't look after you. Mine young son's clothes will fit you; you must put them on."

He shouted, when a servant appeared, to whom he gave some orders. In a few minutes the servant returned with a bundle of clothes and a towel.

Owen thankfully exchanged his wet garments for the young Dutchman's dress, although he was conscious that he cut a somewhat unusual appearance in it. He had scarcely time to finish his toilet before another servant came in with several dishes of food.

"Fall to," said Mynheer Van Wijk; "we have no time to lose I have sent down to ze harbour to order two boats to be got ready. You and I will go in one, and my friend Jacob Leefkens will take charge of ze other. He known ze set of ze tides about here as well as any native."

Owen quickly finished his repast, of which he stood greatly in need.

"My captain and the men with him have no provisions, and I should be thankful to take a supply if you will enable me to procure them," said Owen.

"Of course we will carry food and water and scheidam for ze poor fellows," said the Dutchman.

Owen accompanied Mynheer Van Wijk down to the harbour, where they found two boats, each manned by eight powerful-looking natives. Jacob Leefkens was evidently a seafaring man by the way in which he received Mynheer Van Wijk's directions. Owen was thankful when he found himself thus far successful in commencing the search for his shipmates. He had described as minutely as he could the position of the boat when she was upset, and the two Dutchmen arranged their courses accordingly. The boats pulled on and on. Owen thought that they ought to have got up to the spot where he had left his shipmates. He shouted several times as loudly as he could, aided by Mynheer Van Wijk. The wind had risen considerably, and the further they pulled out the higher the sea was running. Owen began to fear that the people might have been washed off the boat, or that perhaps righting, she had filled and gone down. He thought, too, of Langton, and the dangers he might have to encounter. On speaking on the subject to Mynheer Van Wijk the reply was—

"They are not good people down there; they are too fond of cutting off heads, and a white man himself would be looked upon as a prize."

"I trust such has not been the fate of my friend," said Owen.

"The natives have probably gone to their huts, and his safety will depend on his not falling in with them," observed Mynheer Van Wijk.

From time to time Owen continued to shout, so that they should not pass the boat without being discovered. Jacob Leefkens at last rejoined them.

"I am afraid she's gone to the bottom," he observed.

"Do not say that, Jacob," answered Mynheer Van Wijk. "We will search for them until to-morrow night, if we do not find them before."

This last remark was consolatory to Owen, and thankful he was that he had fallen in with the honest Dutchman. Now the boats rowed further off shore, now pulled along parallel with it. Owen saw that it would have been impossible for Langton to have found the boat, and, having righted her, to have towed her back to the ship.

Again Jacob, shouting from his boat, declared that the boat must have gone down, as not a sign of her appeared.

"Perhaps I mistook her position," suggested Owen.

"Well, we will push on further," said Mynheer Van Wijk. "Let us give one more hearty shout together."

All three, joined by the natives, raised their voices.

Just then a faint sound came from the southward.

"There they are! there they are!" cried Owen. "They heard us, and are holloaing in return."

The natives were ordered to give way, and in a few minutes more a louder "holloa" was heard.

They were evidently nearing the boat.

Owen, eager to know how they had fared, stood up and hailed them as he approached.

"Are all safe?"

"Ay, ay," was the answer.

In a short time Mynheer Van Wijk's boat was alongside the pinnace. One by one the people were taken off her, Captain Stanhope remaining until the last. Several of them were greatly exhausted, especially Ashurst, who could scarcely speak. Captain Stanhope grasped Owen by the hand. His first question was for Langton. He felt satisfied when Owen told him that, after landing safely, he had gone in the direction of the ship along the shore.

As the captain was unwilling to lose the boat, he accepted Jacob Leefken's offer to right her, and to tow her back to the frigate. He was specially anxious that this should be done, as they would probably fall in with Langton on the way, and save him from a vain search.

Captain Stanhope was also very glad to accept Mynheer Van Wijk's invitation to his house, as it was a long pull back to the frigate.

"Hartley," said the captain, "you have acted nobly in risking your life for the sake of saving those of your shipmates. I shall never forget it, and I will not fail to make known your conduct to those in authority, who will still better than I am be able to promote your interests. I before told you that I should be ready to rate you as a midshipman, and immediately on our return to the frigate I will do so. You may depend upon rising in the service while I live and possess any influence."

On hearing Mynheer Van Wijk's report of the natives the captain became very anxious about Langton. Owen at once volunteered, if Mynheer Van Wijk would provide a boat, to pull along the shore, and ascertain whether he had succeeded or not in getting off to the frigate. Several of the boat's crew offered to accompany him.

The rest, including the captain, were too much exhausted to make the attempt. Ashurst declared that he should not be fit for duty for a month to come, he felt so thoroughly done up.

The Dutchman promised the boat at daybreak, observing that it was of no use to start before then.

Owen, for the sake of his friend, was eager to be off, and, in spite of the fatigue he had gone through, he was up at dawn. He aroused those who were to accompany him, and Mynheer Van Wijk leading the way, they hurried down to the harbour. The latter did not offer to go with them, "as he must," he observed, "attend to the captain and other guests on shore," but he sent a competent interpreter, who would enable Owen to communicate with the natives.

As the boat pulled out of the harbour, it was found that the wind had changed to the southward. No sooner did the sun rise than his rays struck the white canvas of the frigate, which was seen under all sail standing for them. Owen steered towards her, in order to ascertain whether Langton had got on board. Shortly afterwards he caught sight of two men-of-war boats, one under sail, the other pulling.

"Hurrah! Langton must have escaped then," he exclaimed. In a few minutes he was up to the nearest, and Langton himself answered his hail. He had got on board with less difficulty than he had expected in a native boat, and seemed but little the worse for his exertions.

In a short time they were on board, and having answered the numerous questions put to them, were both thankful to turn into their hammocks and get the rest they so much required.

In the evening the captain and the rest of the people returned on board, and a substantial acknowledgment having been made to the worthy Dutchman, next day the frigate sailed for Batavia.



CHAPTER TEN.

Owen found himself in a very different position to what he had ever before been on board. He at once received the rating of a midshipman, and donned his new uniform. No one was inclined to snub him, and even Ashurst treated him with respect, though at the same time with marked coldness.

"I wonder that you do not show more gratitude to Hartley, who was undoubtedly the means of saving your life," remarked Langton to Ashurst one day.

"He save my life!" answered Ashurst. "You had an equal share in that important act. My heart is not big enough to be grateful to both. I am very much obliged to you, I can assure you."

"I consider that Hartley had the largest share," answered Langton, laughing; "his courage inspired me, and it was he, at all events, who rescued you with the captain when you were on the boat's bottom."

"Well, some day I may prove that I am grateful," said Ashurst, turning away, evidently unwilling to continue the subject.

The frigate remained some time at Batavia. During that period several of the men who had formerly belonged to the "Sylvia" were transferred from the "Venus" to her, among whom were Mike Coffey and Nat Midge. Owen was very glad to see his old friends again. He had now an opportunity of showing them occasionally little acts of kindness in return for the regard which they had always exhibited towards him.

"Didn't I say, Mr Hartley, that you'd be a captain some day, and so I'm shure you will if you stick to the sarvice," said Mike. "And shure a fine captain you'll be afther making. When you want a crew you'll only have to hold up your hand, and the men will flock on board, I'll stake my davy."

Nat, although he had been so intimate with Owen never presumed in consequence, but ever showed an eagerness to obey him on duty.

The "Sylvia" again sailed on a cruise in one direction, while the "Venus" went in another.

Owen rapidly gained a knowledge of his new duties, and became one of the smartest midshipmen on board. The captain showed him unusual favour, frequently inviting him to dine in the cabin, and treating him as if he were his son.

"I am not afraid of spoiling Hartley," he remarked to Mr Leigh; "he remains as modest as at first, and would evidently not think of presuming on the service he has rendered me and his other shipmates. I, of course, do not forget Langton, and will take good care that he obtains his promotion on our return home. In my last report to the admiral I specially mentioned his gallant conduct. I received a pretty strong hint to favour Ashurst, but he has managed never to do anything which would allow me to say a word to his advantage."

The frigate was chiefly engaged in capturing Malay and other piratical craft, which at that time swarmed in those seas. She had just taken a large proa, with a villainous crew, and lay at anchor in a channel between Mindano and one of the Sooloo islands. The prize was anchored a short distance astern, most of her crew having been removed, while a guard was placed over the remainder. It was a calm and lovely night. The moon shed a pale light over the smooth surface of the sea, while the land appeared on either hand covered with graceful trees coming down to the very edge of the water. Here and there fantastic rocks rose above the surface. It was the middle watch, which Owen was keeping under Langton, who now did lieutenant's duty. Owen was walking the deck, gazing on the calm sea, now on one side then on the other, now going forward to ascertain that the ship was not by chance dragging her anchors.

The first stroke of four bells was just sounding when, having just reached the forecastle, he suddenly saw a bright light astern, followed by a loud roar, which he knew alone could proceed from the Malay proa. She had blown up. He heard Langton's voice ordering a boat to be lowered, and was on the point of running aft when he felt the deck beneath his feet tremble. A roar far greater than that which had just been heard sounded in the midnight air. For a moment the ship appeared to be enveloped in flame. He experienced the sensation of being lifted up, when he lost all consciousness. How long he continued senseless he could not tell. On recovering he found himself in the water, amid a mass of spars and rigging and fragments of timber, and he caught a glimpse of the upper works of the frigate descending beneath the waves. Here and there, scattered over the surface, were struggling human forms. Arms held up, and hands clasped together. One by one they speedily disappeared. Although almost overcome with horror, he struck out towards a spar of a size which promised to afford him support. As he got nearer, he saw that two other persons had just reached the spar, and were in the act of climbing up to place themselves on it.

"I'll swim on and find another position on the wreck to support me!" Owen cried out.

"Hurrah! 'shure it's Mr Hartley. No, no, sir; come here. Bedad there's room enough for you, and half a dozen more of your weight!" cried out Mike Coffey, who was one of the persons, and Nat was the other. "I'd sooner swim off myself, Mr Hartley."

Owen accordingly complied, and found that the spar would support them all.

"What has been and happened?" asked Nat, still not recovered from the terror.

"The frigate has blown up by accident, or through treachery, of that there is no doubt," answered Owen. "It is dreadful, most dreadful, and I fear that the greater number of our shipmates have been lost; still a few may have escaped, and we must try to help them. Hark! I heard some one cry out not far off. If we cut away the rigging from this spar, we may be able to move it through the water." They got out their knives and worked away. Again the voice was heard. "Help! help!"

"I'll swim off and see if I can render any assistance," said Owen. He swam towards a mass of wreck. On getting near it he saw that a person was hanging on with his body in the water, without apparently strength enough to climb up and secure himself. Owen immediately clambered on to the wreck, and was then able to drag up the other person.

"Ashurst, is it you?" he asked, recognising his messmate.

"Yes, but I am fearfully hurt in the side and leg, and have no strength left to help myself."

Ashurst continued to groan. He had not yet discovered that it was Owen who had assisted him.

The first impulse of Owen was to stand up and try and ascertain whether any other persons were floating near whom he and Mike might help. He listened. A few faint cries, apparently from a distance, reached his ear, but he could not tell from which direction they proceeded; he could only hope that others had succeeded in getting on portions of the wreck.

In a short time Mike and Nat managed to get up to him. Owen proposed that they should form a raft with the spars and smaller pieces of timber floating about, on which they might be able to make their way to the land. The large piece of wreck on to which Mike and Nat had now climbed seemed to be stationary. They were therefore able to move about it, and began to form the proposed raft from the spars which they secured alongside.

Scarcely had they commenced the work, when a voice was heard at no great distance.

"Who is that?" shouted Owen. "Do you want help?"

"Langton," was the answer. "I thought I heard voices. Do not move, I will be with you presently."

In a short time Langton swam up. Owen and his two companions greeted him warmly. Ashurst lay still, occasionally uttering a groan.

"I am indeed thankful that you have escaped," said Owen to Langton. "We were doing our best for poor Ashurst; he wants assistance, and I should have been much troubled how to act. Do you think any one else has escaped?"

"I hope a few have," replied Langton; "but the greater number of our shipmates are, I fear, lost."

"Although our lives have been saved for the present, we are still surrounded by dangers. We must do our duty and trust to God. I'll now turn to and help you to build the raft. It is the first thing we have to do, that is certain."

Langton's assistance was of great value, as he was experienced, and very active. Having lashed all the spars they could find of about the same length side by side, they crossed them with others of a smaller size, and pieces of plank, placing a sort of platform in the centre, the whole being lashed together with ropes which they cut off the spars. It was, of course, roughly formed, but was large enough to support, not only themselves, but any other people they were likely to pick up. By the time it was finished, Ashurst had somewhat recovered, and Langton and Owen carried him and placed him on the platform where he could be out of the wet. They had kept two of the lighter spars for a mast and yard, and they picked up a royal unburnt, which would serve as a sail.

Dawn broke just as they were ready to shove off from the wreck.

"Where are we going?" asked Ashurst, in a faint voice.

"To the nearest shore we can reach," answered Langton; "when there we must consider what next to do."

"Can't you give me some water, or some fruit? I am very thirsty," said Ashurst.

"I am sorry we have nothing to give you," answered Langton; "we may possibly pick up something when we have daylight."

"I've a chaw of baccy, sir," said Mike; "it's me last, but it's at yir sarvice."

Poor Ashurst uttered an expression of disgust. Just then Owen thankfully recollected that he had put a couple of small limes, some of which he had been eating late on the previous evening, into his pocket. He immediately skinned one of the refreshing fruit, and handed it in small pieces to Ashurst.

"This from you, Hartley?" he said, as he swallowed it eagerly.

"I have another which will be at your service when you want it," said Owen, not noticing the remark, and feeling intense pleasure at thus being able to help his suffering messmate. Every thought of the ill-treatment he had received vanished from his mind. Langton and Owen now examined Ashurst's hurts. They found that his left arm had either been dislocated or broken, and that a splinter had torn his side and severely wounded him.

"He is in a bad way," whispered Langton to Owen; "had one of the surgeons been with us, he might have been doctored, but as it is, I do not think he will weather out what we shall have to endure. I ought to tell him so if he gets worse, but we will do our best for him."

As daylight increased, they saw other masses of wreck floating about, while a portion of the shattered upper works of the frigate appeared above the water with several men clinging to them. A current, however, was running from the wreck, slowly drifting the raft away. Who the people were it was impossible to say at that distance.

"Unless a breeze springs up to blow us back we cannot get up to them," said Langton; "we will rig our sail, however, in case it should come."

While engaged in setting up the mast, Mike and Nat especially were keeping an eye on the water around them, in the hopes of picking up something that might be floating by.

Without giving notice of what he was about to do, Mike suddenly sprang off the raft and swam out towards an object of which he had just caught sight.

"This will serve us for mate and drink too," he exclaimed, as he swam back, pushing before him a couple of melon-like fruit. He handed them up to Nat, and without getting on the raft, swam off to the other side, where he saw a small barrel, which proved to contain biscuits. This was but a small supply of food; but the fact that they had found it made them hope that more might be obtained. The water remained perfectly smooth, which was an advantage.

As the sun rose the heat became intense. Poor Ashurst suffered greatly, even though Owen gave him piece by piece the remainder of the lime, and then supplied him with small bits of the melon.

At Langton's suggestion they attempted to get up to the wreck, but as they had only pieces of plank to row with, and the raft was heavy, they made no progress against the current. They saw, however, that their shipmates were endeavouring to imitate their example, and were engaged in making another raft; but several, it was too evident from the way they clung to the wreck, were severely injured and unable to exert themselves. As far as Owen and his companions could make out, the people they saw had on only their shirts and trousers. It was impossible to ascertain, therefore, whether any were officers. Langton feared not.

The land appeared on either side of them, and another island stretched away to the southward, closing the channel, so that they might hope, in the course of a few hours at most, should a breeze spring up from the east or west, to reach the shore. Still hour after hour went by, the raft driving further and farther to the southward, and away from the wreck, until the people moving about on it could no longer be distinguished.

In the meantime they had been unsuccessful in obtaining any further provisions. Owen regretted that they had not secured another piece of canvas with which to form some sort of shelter above poor Ashurst. All they could do was to hoist up the sail, so as to throw a shadow over his head. Langton, who had had a long swim, felt much fatigued, and charging Owen to call him should any change take place, he lay down to obtain the rest he so much needed.

Owen, meanwhile, was seated by Ashurst's side. The latter was continually speaking, though Owen thought that he occasionally rambled.

"Hartley," he said at last, "do you think that I'm dying?"

"You are evidently very ill; but I hope, if we can get you on shore, that you may yet pull through it."

"Do you wish me to recover?" asked Ashurst.

"Of course I do," answered Owen; "and I have been praying to God that you may."

"You do not know what you have been praying for then," murmured Ashurst. "I have ill-treated you, and have shown in every way I could the hatred I felt."

"Pray do not talk of that," said Owen. "I never hated you."

"You had infinitely more cause to do so than I had to hate you," answered Ashurst.

He was silent for a minute or more; then he exclaimed suddenly—

"Hartley, did it ever occur to you that we are relatives? My family name was Hartley until we changed it for Ashurst. Do you know why we changed it? Because it was asserted that the elder branch of the family was extinct, although my father and my elder brother—who is now Lord Arlingford—knew that such is not the case. My brother has no children, and when I last heard from home he was very ill. In case of his death I should succeed to the title, though as well aware as he is that I have no just right to it. There seems to me but little prospect that either you or I will escape, but I feel that I must unburden my mind. When I first saw you on board and heard your name, I immediately thought that you must belong to our family. Upon making further inquiries I was convinced of it. I hated you, not that you had done anything to offend me, but because my family had kept you out of your just rights. You have returned only good for evil. But can you now forgive me for the great wrong which I have done you?"

"Indeed I can do so most heartily," answered Owen; "but I confess that I do not understand all you have been telling me, nor how your family can have injured mine. I know that we had relations of noble birth, and I should think that my father, had he possessed any claim to the Arlingford title and estates, would not have failed to assert it."

"He was not aware, perhaps, that several of the intermediate heirs had died in rapid succession, and that my father had been tempted successfully to make his claim."

Ashurst as he spoke was evidently becoming weaker and weaker, and although Owen would gladly have obtained more information from him, yet he had not the heart to do so. He had very little hope indeed that Ashurst would recover, but still was unwilling to tell him how ill he was, lest it should lower his spirits and do harm.

The raft all this time was floating on the calm sea, drifting slowly down the channel; but as there was not a breath of wind, with only the pieces of board, it could scarcely be urged through the water.

Mike and Nat sat watching for anything likely to be of use which might appear on the surface of the water. Owen devoted all his attention to Ashurst, who was constantly complaining of the pain the wound in his side caused him, and of the thirst he was enduring.

At last Owen asked him if he thought that he should recover?

"I dare not think about it," answered Ashurst. "I have lived a careless life. I have done much evil, and no good that I can bring to my remembrance. I can only now look forward to a few hours of suffering before I quit the world. I wish that I had perished with the other poor fellows. I do not know why I was saved, except as a punishment for my sins."

"No, no, that could not have been," answered Owen. "You were preserved because God loves you, and still to the last moment offers you salvation. Turn to Him through Christ. He has said that although your sins might be as scarlet, they may become as white as snow. God is faithful and just to forgive us our sins. Believe in His glorious promises."

"I find it a hard matter to do so," groaned Ashurst, "but I will try."

Owen offered to pray with him, and knelt down by his side. Ashurst's lips continued to move, but his voice grew weaker and weaker. At length Langton awoke. No sooner did he cast his eyes on Ashurst than he gave a look at Owen and whispered, "He is going."

He took his messmate's hand, who returned the pressure he gave, but gradually the fingers relaxed. Langton and Owen bent over him; ere another minute had passed he was dead.

"Poor fellow!" said Langton. "Although he was no favourite of mine, I am truly sorry."

"So am I," said Owen; "and I heartily forgive him for the way in which he used to treat me. He has been making a strange confession to me, and has been telling me that, I am the rightful heir to the title and property his brother at present possesses. I do not think he was wandering, as he seemed so very certain about the matter; but I should have been glad if you had been awake to hear him."

"He may or may not have spoken the truth," said Langton; "but before you can benefit by the information you have received, we must get home. It seems more than doubtful whether we shall ever reach the shore."

Langton and Owen were unwilling to throw their messmate overboard, for they had nothing to sink the body.

"We must try and carry it to the shore and give it burial," said Langton.

Owen was perfectly ready to do this, though when they should reach the shore was a question.

Hour after hour the calm continued. Often they could scarcely bear the heat. Langton, who took the command, served out a small piece of melon at a time, which somewhat alleviated their thirst, while the biscuits— though wetted by the water, which had got into the cask—satisfied their hunger.

At length, towards evening, a breeze from the northward sprang up. The sail was hoisted, and by means of a paddle on either side they managed to steer the raft.

"We are making nearly two knots an hour," said Owen, as the breeze freshened. "During the night we shall, I hope, reach the island to the southward."

"That depends on what currents me encounter, or whether the wind continues," answered Langton; "I would rather get up to the shore at daylight when we may choose a place for landing."

The raft required all their attention, for the sail being large it might in a moment have been upset. Nat was stationed at the halyards, and Mike at the sheet, while Langton and Owen steered. Darkness came on, but the breeze continued. They appeared to have made good progress. The fear was that the wind might increase still more. Langton thought it prudent to reef the sail. Scarcely had they done so than a squall came over the water, and sent the raft flying along at a far more rapid rate than it had hitherto moved. The wind, however, soon again dropped, and the raft moved on as slowly as before. The night became unusually dark, the sky was obscured, and it was impossible to ascertain in what direction the raft was drifting. The party on it could only hope that it was continuing on the same course as before, still it was possible that it might be drifting out through either of the channels to the right or left, and that they might miss the island which they had hoped to reach. Mike and Nat kept up their spirits.

"If it was not for poor Mr Ashurst I'd be afther singing yer a stave to prevent you from getting down-hearted," exclaimed Mike, "though it would not do just now, lest the poor young gintleman might be thinking we were afther wakin' him."

"No, pray do not sing," said Owen; "it would be more sensible to pray for assistance, for we must admit it is very little we can do to help ourselves."

During the night they satisfied their hunger with the biscuits, reserving the fruit for the time when the hot sun would increase their thirst. Langton persuaded Owen, who had hitherto not slept, to lie down and take some rest. He was glad to do this, indeed at times he could scarcely keep his eyes open. He was awakened by an exclamation from Mike—

"Arrah! now, how's the land got out there?"

He started up, as did Langton, who had also fallen asleep, and on looking to the eastward he saw two islands, between which the raft must have drifted some distance astern, a strong current having carried them through the passage at a faster rate than they had supposed possible. It was a bitter disappointment. Unless the wind should come from the west they could not hope to make either of the islands, as they would, at all events, have the current against them.

"What do you recommend, Langton?" asked Owen.

"We must wait and see what will next happen," answered Langton. "In case we should be kept out much longer we must economise our provisions. I have no other fear for the present, unless the weather should change."

"We can put our trust in God; we know that He orders everything for the best," said Owen.

They ate a little more biscuit, which was divided in equal shares. Each took a small portion of fruit. Owen and Langton were looking towards Ashurst's body.

"We shall not get in in time to bury it after all," observed Langton; "we must give him a sailor's grave." It was time, indeed, to do so. "Before we launch the poor fellow overboard let us see what things he has about him," said Langton.

He took a ring off Ashurst's finger as he spoke. His watch and several smaller articles were found in his pockets.

"Here, Hartley, you had better take care of these," he said, "as they may be of value to you in some way or other, or you can return them to his nearest kin, whom you are more likely to meet than I am. Come, Coffey, lend a hand here," continued Langton, and between them, taking up the body of the young officer, they allowed it to slip overboard. Greatly to Owen's satisfaction it sank immediately.

"Poor fellow," said Langton again, "I should have been truly thankful had he lived."

Almost immediately after this a breeze sprang up, but it came off the land and drove the raft further and further away. They were all silent for some minutes, their position was becoming truly critical. Langton at length got up and looked about him.

"I see land away to the west. I believe that we shall reach it much sooner than we can hope to do that to the eastward if we hoist our sail and take advantage of the breeze."

To this proposal Owen agreed, and the sail being set the raft glided rapidly over the water. Still, after going some distance, only the dim outline of the land towards which they were steering could be distinguished. All that they knew about it was that it must be one of the Sooloo Archipelago, and that most of those islands were inhabited by a savage race addicted to piracy.

These might, however, treat them kindly, though it was more possible that they would keep them in slavery. As they were running before the breeze the wind assisted but little to temper the rays of the sun which beat down on their heads. Their thirst increased, it was with difficulty that they could refrain from consuming the last remnants of their fruit. Langton, however, gave out only a very small piece at a time, which helped to moisten their throats and tongues, though it did little more. At the rate they were going, even should the breeze continue, it would take nearly the whole of the day to reach the land. Since the morning they had, however, undoubtedly neared it.

"We must hope for a bright night," said Owen, "and we shall then be able to steer by the stars, although we may not see the land."

When the sun went down Langton calculated that they were still nearly fifteen miles off. By this time their thirst became excessive. They had a little biscuit remaining, but the last piece of fruit had been divided among them. They hoped by next morning, at all events, to have got in close to the land, should the breeze not fail. They scarcely dared to contemplate their position should they be exposed another day to the hot sun on the raft without water.

Owen and Langton agreed to keep watch and watch, the former taking Mike and the latter Nat. For two or three hours after sunset the breeze continued to blow steadily, and the cool night air greatly restored their strength. The sky was clear and the stars shone brightly. They had taken the bearings of the land, and had no fear of not keeping to their proper course.

It was Owen's watch, the raft had been gliding on briskly, when suddenly the sail gave a flap against the mast, and then hung down motionless.

"Let go the halyards!" he sang out. Before this could be done the sail was taken aback. Owen sprang forward to assist Mike in lowering it. Greatly was he disappointed to find the wind blow directly from the shore, and all hope of further progress, unless it should again change, denied them. He called up Langton, who at a glance perceived what had happened.

"We must get out the paddles and work away during the cool of the night," he said. "Perhaps some current may be setting towards the shore and assist us."

The proposal was at once adopted. All night they paddled on until their arms ached. Though sure that they were on their right course the land could not be seen. Morning again came, when bitter was their disappointment to find themselves still a long way from it.

A sigh escaped Langton. "It cannot be helped; it is God's will, we must submit," he said. "Perhaps a breeze will again spring up." There was nothing to be done; not a particle of fruit, not a biscuit remained. Langton did not express his apprehensions to his younger companions, but the dreadful thought forced itself upon him that they would all perish. He knew that they could not without water endure another day exposed to the rays of the sun. Hour after hour passed, the land within five or six miles of them, and yet without the means of reaching it.

Evidently a current, instead of setting them towards the land, was sweeping them away from it. In vain they tried to paddle against the current, they had at length to give up the contest.

Collected around the platform in various attitudes they waited on. Mike and Nat had thrown themselves down at full length. Owen, unwilling to succumb, still sat upright, occasionally getting on his feet to look about, but as the fever in his veins increased he felt his strength diminish. Langton sat near him with his arms folded, resigned to his fate; he had done his utmost, he felt he could do no more. The day wore on. Owen cast his eyes around the horizon in the hopes that some help would come. Even a Malay proa, manned by pirates, would have been welcomed. Savage as they might be they would scarcely allow four human beings to perish thus miserably.

Owen had been sitting for some time without moving. He felt that he scarcely had strength to rise again.

"I must get another look-out," he said to Langton. He stood up on the platform, holding by the mast. He had not been there many seconds when he exclaimed—

"A breeze from the eastward!"

A dark line was seen suddenly advancing over the shining ocean, it increased in width, the whole surface became rippled with tiny wavelets. The sail blew out, the raft glided on more rapidly than it had hitherto done. The comparatively fresh air restored strength to the almost exhausted occupants of the raft. The shore rose before them, and their eyes were gladdened by a bright cascade falling over the rocks, and in a bubbling stream making its way to the ocean. How intensely they longed to reach the land! A small bay opened out before them, towards which Langton steered the raft, until at last it grounded on the smooth sandy beach.

Langton and Owen, who were the strongest, assisted their companions to land. They could do no more. While Mike and Nat sank down on the ground, unable to move further, they crawled rather than walked on towards the waterfall. In a few minutes, though it seemed a long time to them, the stream came in sight. Even then, with difficulty, they could reach it. Stretching themselves out, with their hands in the cool water, they eagerly drank the refreshing fluid, which seemed to put new life into them. They rose to their feet. They had not forgotten their companions. How was the water to be carried? They had neither hats nor shoes. On the beach lay several large shells. They selected two, which appeared perfectly clean, and filling them with water hurried back to where they had left Mike and Nat.

The former was making signals, and pointing to the boy, who appeared to be unconscious. Owen put the water to his lips, and sprinkled his face. He opened his eyes, and as the water trickled down his throat he began to revive. In a few minutes he seemed himself again and could sit up. Their thirst satisfied, they were assailed by the pangs of hunger. As there was abundance of shell-fish they had no fear of starving, while the woods they hoped would afford them fruit of some sort. They soon found on some rocks on one side of the bay an ample supply of shell-fish. Mike at once began to eat them raw.

"Stay!" exclaimed Langton. "Let us refrain until we have cooked them, when they are less likely to do us harm."

"But how are we to get a fire?" asked Owen.

"I have a burning glass in my pocket," said Langton.

Dry sticks were soon collected, and some moss, which ignited almost immediately the glass was held over it. A bright fire was kindled. The shell-fish were cooked, Langton having selected those which appeared to him most likely to prove wholesome.

"We are better off here than we were on the sand-bank," observed Mike. "We escaped from that, and we'll be afther getting away from this before long."

While he was speaking Owen happened to turn his eyes to the southward.

"A sail! a sail!" he exclaimed.

Just rounding a point of the island which had hitherto hid her from sight appeared a large ship, the heads of her courses already rising above the horizon.

"We must make a signal or she may pass us," exclaimed Langton. "The mast and yard of our raft will serve as a flag."

Mike possessed a coloured handkerchief, which he had hitherto worn round his waist. Other handkerchiefs were produced. Nat contributed his shirt, so that a flag of good size was formed.

The fire having been first made up so as to emit a large amount of smoke, they hastened with their flagstaff to the end of the point, where it was speedily erected. As no other means of attracting the attention of those on board could be devised, they sat down, anxiously waiting the result. With some small line, which they got from the raft, they drew out the flag so as to present a broad surface to the approaching ship. Her hull soon rose above the water.

"Thank Heaven! She is a British sloop-of-war, and is sure to keep a bright look-out," said Langton. "She will pass within a mile of the island, and cannot fail to see us."

The wind had by this time shifted to the southward. The corvette—for such she was—came on before it, under easy sail, with the lead going.

The party watched her with intense eagerness. Every moment they feared that she might haul off the shore, but the water was deep, and she continued on her course. Already she was abreast of the spot where the signal was flying.

"She takes no notice of us; she is standing on as before," exclaimed Owen.

"No, no; see, she is heaving to," cried Langton.

The courses were hauled up, the ship's head was turned off shore, the main-topsail was backed, and she remained stationary.

"Hurrah! hurrah!" cried Mike. "We are seen." The rest echoed the cheer. A boat was lowered, and came pulling towards the point. As she approached, the party on shore unshipped the flagstaff and hurried with it to the bay to guide her in; she soon reached the beach. Langton explained to the officer in command in a few words what had occurred. They were helped on board, and the boat immediately pulled back to the corvette.

She proved to be the "Kestrel," of 18 guns, Commander Holmes. Directly the commander heard of the loss of the "Sylvia," he steered for the spot where the ill-fated vessel had gone down, in the hopes of rescuing any more of her crew who might have escaped.

Mike and Nat were placed under the doctor's charge, but Langton and Owen, though still feeling very weak, were anxious to remain on deck while the corvette was searching for their shipmates.

Owen learned, with satisfaction, that, after her cruise among the islands, she was at once to return home. He was naturally anxious to ascertain the truth of the account given him by Reginald Ashurst. Sometimes he thought the imagination of his dying shipmate might have been excited, and that the story he had told was without foundation. Langton, when he talked the matter over, did not give him much encouragement.

"He was always fond of romancing. Sometimes I do not think he knew himself whether he was speaking the truth or falsehood," he observed.

"He knew that he was dying, and would scarcely have invented a tale to deceive me," answered Owen; "but at the same time I am not ambitious, nor shall I be much disappointed if I find you are right."

A calm at nightfall compelled the corvette to come to an anchor just inside the island, where blue lights were burned and rockets discharged to attract the attention of any who had escaped, and might have the means of reaching her; the boats were also manned and sent off, some to visit the scene of the disaster and others to search for any rafts or floating pieces of wreck on which the people might have sought refuge.

The doctor would not allow Langton or Owen to go in the boats, anxious as they were to ascertain the fate of their shipmates.

The night passed away; the boats had not returned. It was not until late the next day that they appeared.

"Hurrah! they have a number of people on board; some of the poor fellows have escaped then!" was uttered by those on the look-out.

On the boat coming alongside, fourteen people were handed up on deck, all in a weak state, some dreadfully burned and otherwise injured by the explosion. Among them was Mr Leigh, who, though weak, was but slightly hurt. Owen was for many reasons rejoiced to see him. By his exertions a raft had been constructed, on which the survivors had reached the shore. They were there seized by a party of natives, who were on the point of carrying them off into captivity when the boats had arrived and they had been rescued. These, with the four already on board the corvette, had alone escaped of all the frigate's gallant grew, several men having died on the wreck. The other incidents of the "Kestrel's" cruise need not be described. A loud cheer was uttered as she bade farewell to the Indian seas, and her course was shaped for the Cape on her way to England.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Owen did duty as a midshipman on the voyage home. He confided to Mr Leigh the strange account which Ashurst had related just before his death. Mr Leigh was more inclined to believe it than Langton had been.

"At all events, Hartley," he said, "it is a matter which must be looked into immediately on our arrival in England. I am glad you have mentioned it to no one else, and as Lord Arlingford is not aware that his brother had confessed the truth to you, he will be the less prepared to resist your claim. If you can find an honest lawyer I would advise you to put the matter into his hands Langton and your other companions on the raft can prove Ashurst's death, and I can give evidence of the extraordinary animosity he always exhibited towards you."

"I hope that it will not be necessary to mention that subject," said Owen. "I would rather not have to refer to the poor fellow's ill-treatment of me. In regard to a lawyer, I know of one in whom I have thorough confidence. He will by this time, I hope, have set up for himself, and I could not place the matter in better hands."

Owen had frequent conversations with Mr Leigh and Langton, but no one else on board had any idea that the apparently friendless young midshipman was the claimant to a title and handsome estate. Owen maintained his usual demeanour, and endeavoured to think as little about the subject as possible. Should he be disappointed he would place himself under Mr Fluke again and return to the counting-house, or remain in the service, trusting to his own good conduct to make his way in it, which he hoped to do, although he had lost the promised patronage of Captain Stanhope.

The "Kestrel" met with much heavy weather. She encountered a gale off the Cape, and another in the Bay of Biscay, when she was "hove to" for several days. The voyage home thus occupied a much longer time than usual. At last, however, the white cliffs of old England were sighted, to the joy of all on board. As she had been fitted out at Portsmouth, she returned to that port, where she was immediately paid off.

Mike's mother was living at Gosport, and he took Nat to stay with him until they should get another ship, as both had made up their minds to remain in the navy. Owen having obtained from Nat his grandmother's address, thoughtfully wrote to tell her of her grandson's safety, promising, as soon as he had the means, to send him down to see her. Mike promised not to go to sea again without communicating with Owen.

Mr Leigh and Langton accompanied Owen up to town, where they intended to remain for some time. Leaving them at the lodgings they had taken, he set off to Wapping. He arrived at Messrs. Kelson, Fluke and Company's office a short time before the usual closing hour. Owen still wore his midshipman's uniform. During the three years he had been absent he had grown into a tall young man, his handsome countenance well bronzed by tropical suns. He stood at the entrance for some seconds without advancing. No one seemed to know him. Looking round he saw many of the old familiar faces still there.

Mr Tarwig was at his desk. Several of the clerks glanced up at him, but supposing that he was a stranger, went on with their work. He advanced to where the head clerk was sitting, and putting out his hand—

"I suspect you do not know me, sir?" he said.

"What is your business?" asked Mr Tarwig, putting the usual question to a stranger.

"I have come to see Mr Fluke, and to resume my duties in this office if he wishes it," answered Owen.

Mr Tarwig opened his eyes wider than he had ever opened them before. Then starting up, in his eagerness kicking over his stool, and very nearly toppling down on his nose, which he would have done had not Owen caught him by the hand, he exclaimed—

"Bless my heart! Can you be Owen Hartley? We had given you up for lost long ago. But are you really yourself? Yes, I see you are, only double as big, and a naval officer to boot. Well, it will put new life into the old man, for he grieved sorely for you. Well, I am glad, that I am."

Here Mr Tarwig wrung Owen's hand in a way very unwonted with him when greeting a fellow-mortal.

"Mr Fluke will be pleased," he continued; "but he went home to-day an hour earlier than usual. He did not feel quite well, and he wanted Kezia Crump to give him something to do him good."

"I will follow him at once then," said Owen. "I can easily get to his house before dark, and I should not like to let another day pass without seeing him."

Owen, however, found it difficult to get away before he had answered the numerous questions which Mr Tarwig put to him. None of his letters had been received, and it was therefore supposed that he had been lost in the "Druid," which ship had never been heard of since she had sailed.

"You may depend upon having your old berth here as soon as you like," said Mr Tarwig; "but I am afraid, Mr Owen, seeing you have become an officer in the navy, that you will not be so willing as formerly to take it, though your hand, I'll warrant, has not lost its cunning."

"I intend to act as Mr Fluke wishes, and therefore cannot say what I may do," answered Owen, feeling, however, that he should be very unwilling to go back to his old occupation.

For once in a way all the clerks in the office were idle, as Owen went round to shake hands with them. He then hurried off, and walked at a quick pace through the well-known streets. As he passed the spot where he had first met Reginald Ashurst the whole scene came vividly before his mind, he could even picture the countenance of the elder brother, whom he now knew to have been Lord Arlingford.

On reaching Mr Fluke's house he hesitated for a moment to consider whether his unexpected appearance might not injuriously agitate his old friend. "I must leave it to Kezia to tell him. I can safely do that," he thought. "She is a strong-minded woman, and glad as she will be to see me, she, at all events, will not go into hysterics."

He rapped at the door, hoping that Kezia would answer the summons herself. He was not mistaken. She opened it and stood gazing at him, looking exactly as she had done when he last saw her.

"Speak, speak, who are you?" she at length exclaimed.

Scarcely had Owen opened his lips to pronounce his name, than she threw her arms around his neck.

"I knew, I knew it!" she cried out, and burst forth into an uncontrollable fit of crying, followed by one of laughter, as she hugged him again and again to her bosom. Strong-minded as Mrs Kezia was, she possessed a woman's affectionate heart, and if she had never been in hysterics before, she was undoubtedly on this occasion. She very soon gained the mastery over herself, however.

"What a fool I am; but you will not tell him of it, Owen," she said, "or he will be putting his back up at me."

Looking out into the garden, where Mr Fluke was in earnest confabulation with Joseph, Owen promised Kezia to say nothing about the demonstrative way in which she had received him.

"I should be very ungrateful if I did," he added. "And how is Mr Fluke? Shall I go to him, or will you tell him I have arrived?"

"I will go to him," she answered, "for though he has got a heart of some sort, it may be like his outside, a little withered. He took on sadly when he thought you were lost, and as he has been rather shaky lately, it might upset him if he were to see you suddenly."

"Do, then, my dear Mrs Kezia, tell him that I have come, and am the same Owen Hartley that was when I went away, although I have got some strange things to talk to him about," said Owen.

"Well, then, go into the parlour, and wait until I fetch him," said Mrs Kezia, and she hurried out into the garden, nearly falling down the steps in her eagerness.

Owen would have liked to watch her while she communicated the news of his arrival. He had some time to wait before he heard her voice calling him. He at once went out; Mr Fluke was at the further end of the garden.

"I got him down there before I told him nat a young gentleman had come to see him, and that although he was a good deal bigger than Owen, and dressed in a naval uniform, that to my mind he was no one else. Even now he is not quite certain whether or not he is to see you."

"You have acted prudently, as you always do, Mrs Kezia," said Owen.

Mr Fluke looked at Owen, and then began to walk towards him, increasing his pace until he broke almost into a run. His limbs refused to obey the impulse of his feelings.

"Can it be? No! It is impossible! But yet, I don't know. Yes! It is Owen Hartley. It must be! Owen, my boy, are you really come back?"

These expressions burst from the old man's lips as he hurried forward. He grasped Owen's hands, gazing up into his face. Owen was now upwards of a head taller.

"Are you yourself? Don't mock me, Owen."

"I am indeed myself," answered Owen, smiling as he spoke. "Most grateful I am for the kind way in which you have received me, after I had played truant so many long years; but I could not have come back before, unless you had sent for me, and I have received no letters since I left home."

For a few minutes they stood talking, when, after Owen had exchanged greetings with Joseph Crump, he accompanied Mr Fluke into the parlour, where Kezia was busily employed in preparing supper.

"You need not be afraid of depriving him of his supper by not eating as much as you want," she said, nodding her head to Owen. "I've got plenty for both of you." Then turning to Mr Fluke, she added, "You must get off your boots, here are your slippers, and then Owen will tell you all about himself, and I'll warrant there will be something worth listening to."

Kezia was as good as her word, an ample supper being placed on the table. Mr Fluke ate but sparingly. Owen saw that he was eager to hear his adventures. He ran over them as rapidly as he could, dwelling only on the more important points. Occasionally Mr Fluke stopped him to ask a question, then said, "Go on, go on."

When Owen got to the account of the confession made by Reginald Ashurst and his death, Mr Fluke paid the greatest attention.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "there is something in that. Lord Arlingford; yes, I remember there was some doubt as to who was the rightful heir, and that the name of the family was originally Hartley. How your grandfather or father never came to put in a claim, I don't know. It is just possible that they never heard about the matter. They were poor, and the other Hartleys had money at command. That makes all the difference. We shall now see what another generation can do; although possession is nine parts of the law, yet the chances are that the present Lord Arlingford has not much at command to dispute your claims, should he not have a right to the title and estates."

As Kezia had supposed, Mr Fluke continued talking or listening until it was far later than he was accustomed to retire for the night. She at length came in.

"I have given you an hour's grace," she exclaimed. "You will be fit for nothing to-morrow if you don't go up to bed."

"She knows best," said Mr Fluke, looking at Owen, and taking the candle which Kezia handed to him; "every one obeys her in this house."

After Mr Fluke had gone to his room, Owen gratified Kezia's curiosity by giving her an outline of his adventures. When he told her of the possibility of his inheriting the Arlingford estates she almost gasped for breath.

"You, Owen, you become a lord!" she exclaimed. "It may be pleasant, and will be pleasant, if you do succeed; but have you thought, my boy, of the disappointment should you fail? I cannot say that I am the happier for what you tell me, except that I shall be glad for you not to have to go back to the office or to follow a sea life; but, Owen, whatever happens, you will not forget Kezia Crump?"

"Indeed I will not," said Owen, taking her hand; "you have ever been a true friend to me, and the way you received me to-day proves your affection, which I shall never forget."

The next morning Mr Fluke announced his intention of staying at home that he might have time to discuss matters with his young friend.

Owen's first task was to write to David Rowe, requesting that he would come up at once to London at Mr Fluke's desire. Owen also wrote to John, giving him a sketch of his adventures, though he did not mention the object for which he wished to see David. In spite of slow coaches, within three days David Rowe appeared at Mr Fluke's office, where Owen had gone to meet him.

"You'll want money to carry out this undertaking," said Mr Fluke, turning to David; "draw on me for all you require. From the report of your friend here I will trust you, and that's more than Simon Fluke would say to every man."

"If our friend Owen has the right, we shall succeed, for right and might in this case go together, as you, Mr Fluke, supply the might," said David, slapping his pockets.

David having received his instructions, set about the necessary preliminaries without a moment's delay.

Owen begged for leave of absence for one day to fulfil his promise to Captain Aggett, by visiting his widow, who lived some way from London.

"I am thankful, most thankful for what you tell me, Mr Hartley," she exclaimed, "that he died in peace as a Christian. Though I shall see him no more on earth, we shall, I know, meet in heaven." It was a satisfaction to Owen to feel that his visit had brought comfort to the heart of his kind friend's widow, to whom he was afterwards able to render the material assistance her husband had expressed his anxiety to afford her.

Mr Fluke returned every day at an unusually early hour from the office that he might have more of Owen's society.

Owen had mentioned his two naval friends. "Bring them here to dinner," said Mr Fluke. "Kezia shall prepare a feast, for they deserve it, and I'll show them my tulips."

Owen found both Lieutenant Leigh and Langton, who had received his promotion, at their lodgings. They willingly accepted his invitation, when he explained who Mr Fluke was, and how much depended on him. Kezia took care to have a handsome dinner, and a man-servant to wait, and had, moreover, induced her master to put on a new suit and wig, so that when Owen came in he scarcely knew him. The two officers undertook to remain within call in case their evidence should be required at the trial.

They had just taken their places at dinner when David Rowe was announced. Having paid his respects to the master of the house, shaking hands with Owen, and made his bow to the other guests, he took his seat.

"I do not want to spoil anybody's appetite, and I hope good news won't do that," he said, "for good news, and wonderful news, I have to communicate. Have I your leave to make it known in the presence of these gentlemen, Mr Fluke?"

"Certainly, certainly, if you think fit, Mr Rowe," was the answer.

"Then allow me to congratulate Lord Arlingford on his accession to his family title and estates, but I hope, as I do so, that he will not object to take the name of Ashurst. We have made quick work of it. From information I received, I was induced to go down and see the ci-devant Lord Arlingford. I found him very ill and without a particle of combativeness, so I told him of all the information I possessed, and gave him his choice to contest the point, assuring him that we had unlimited supplies at command, or to yield at once, and save a family scandal. As he appeared inclined to take my advice, I promised him an annuity of a thousand a year, knowing from his circumstances that he was not likely to enjoy even so much as that should he retain his title. He immediately accepted my offer, acknowledging that your claim was valid. Of course I made my offer subject to the approval of the true Lord Arlingford. There must be a trial pro forma, legally to settle the point, but it will prove a very short one."

It was some little time before Owen could recover his equanimity sufficiently to eat his dinner; but fortunately midshipmen are not given, under any circumstances, to loss of appetite, and he was very soon himself again.

Little more need be said. Mr Fluke bore all the expenses of the trial, which proved without doubt that Owen Hartley was the rightful possessor of the Arlingford title and estates. Indeed, on the death of his cousin, which occurred while the trial was going forward, no other claimant appearing, Owen immediately came into peaceful possession.

Mr Fluke insisted on paying off all the mortgages, so that Owen might commence his new career free of incumbrances.

"Begin, my dear boy, out of debt, and never get into it," said the old man; "you'll never regret following that rule, whatever else you may be sorry for."

Owen's first care was to appoint a good man of business to look after the estate, and, as may be supposed, he selected David Rowe, whose brother John became his head bailiff. His old shipmates, Captain Leigh and Lieutenant Langton, were his frequent guests whenever they came on shore.

On the death of his kind relative, Simon Fluke, Mrs Kezia and Joseph Crump came down, the one to become his housekeeper and the other his head gardener.

"I hope you will find no tom cat to kill at Arlingford, Mrs Kezia!" said Owen, laughing, as she made her appearance.

"Please your lordship, I don't think there'll be any need," she answered.

Indeed Owen had never the slightest cause to complain of presumption, nor had Lady Arlingford—for by this time Owen was possessed of a fair young wife, who ruled as mistress of Arlingford Hall.

He placed his old nurse, Jane Hayes, who had lately married, in a pretty cottage, which he had built expressly for her. He did not forget Nat Midge. One of his first journeys was to visit Nat's grandmother. He found the old lady in great poverty, struggling to maintain her grand-children. "You will, I hope, see Nat in a couple of days," said Owen; "and though he may not have come back with his pockets full of gold, he has gained a sincere friend, who can afford to support you and his brothers and sisters till he is able to do so himself."

Nat arrived, and escorted his family to Arlingford, where Owen had ordered a cottage, which had been vacant, to be got ready for their reception.

Nat, who had had enough of the sea, was apprenticed to a carpenter employed on the estate, whose duties he ultimately was able to undertake.

Mike Coffey continued in the service until he lost a leg, when he retired on a pension. His mother having died, he came, at Owen's invitation, to Arlingford.

"I'm afther thinkin', my lord, of gettin' a wherry and settin' up as a boatman at Portsmouth," answered Mike to Owen's question as to the way he intended to employ himself.

"How would you like to become my commodore?" asked Owen, pointing to a miniature frigate which floated on the lake near the house, and to a couple of boats drawn up on the bank.

"With the greatest delight in the world, your honour—your lordship I mane," answered Mike. "The frigate wants re-fitting, and the boats will be better for a coat of paint. I had a look at them as I came along this mornin'. Thinks I to meself, shure the young master hasn't had time to see afther his fleet, so I was just goin' to offer to do the work, to show me love to your lordship."

"I have no doubt that I shall find other work for you when that is finished, so I appoint you to the berth, and you can take up your abode with Widow Midge until you set up a home of your own."

Owen, although he still retained his love for the sea, retired from the service and devoted himself—as is the bounden duty of every proprietor—to the improvement of his estate and to advancing the moral and spiritual welfare of his tenants.

THE END.