Rodd shook his head.

"I saw it plainly enough, uncle."

And the skipper gave his head a sapient nod, while the doctor shook his.

"What were you going to say, Captain Chubb?"

"Only this 'ere, sir. I have 'eard more argufying and quarrelling about sea-sarpints than about almost anything else. I say sarpints, but I mean these things, and I say this. It will never be settled properly till one of 'em is caught—which aren't likely—or one of them is cast ashore so as everybody can see fair and square. I believe in 'em, and I've good reason to."

"So do I, uncle," cried Rodd.

"Well," said Uncle Paul, "I have for a long time had my doubts, and now I am no longer a sceptic."

He looked very hard at the skipper as he spoke, and feeling that he was called upon to answer, the sturdy captain shook his head and brought his big hand down heavily upon the cabin table.

"That you are not, sir," he said; "your head's too full of science and knowledge and larning to be what you say. I don't quite exactly know what it means, but I'll answer for it you are not that; and now if you don't mind I should like for us to go up on deck again and have a good look round. It's 'most as light as day, and if a thing like that is playing around we are just as likely as not to sight it again. What do you say, sir, to taking your glass and being on the look-out?"

"By all means," said the doctor. "Get the glass, Rodd. Hullo! What's the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing, uncle," said the boy, hastily rising.

"Why, you took hold of the table as if you felt dizzy."

"No, no, uncle. I am all right."

"Not afraid, are you?"

"I—I was for a moment, uncle."

"Good lad and true! Naught to be ashamed on, and spoke out like a man," grunted the skipper.

"But I tell you I am all right now," cried Rodd angrily, and he darted a fierce look at the speaker.

"Of course you are, youngster; but you felt a bit skeart again, and 'nough to make you."

"Yes," said Rodd sharply, "I did feel startled for a moment, but it's all gone now. Come on, uncle; I have got the glass;" and the boy made a dash for the cabin stairs.

"I say," whispered the skipper, "that's better than brag, doctor."

"Yes," said Uncle Paul, drawing a deep breath; "a great deal."

They both then hastened up the stairs, to find Rodd half-way along the deck, hurrying with the glass under his arm to join the men, who were all gathered together at the bows, save their solitary messmate at the wheel.

"Well, my lads, did you make it out again?" shouted the skipper.

"No, sir," replied Joe Cross, who took upon himself the part of spokesman. "Aren't seen a sign of it. We have been casting it up among us that it got more than it liked in the shape of that bullet, and after going down, it turned waxy-like and come up again to have something to say to us, but turned worse and went down."

"Humph!" grunted the skipper. "Then you think we hit it?"

"Yes, sir; and some of the lads have been saying that if they was you they'd load the big gun well with a lot of grape-shot, and if the beggar come up again be on the look-out and let him have it."

"Some on us, Joe Cross; not all."

"Nay, but you meant it, Ikey Gregg," said Joe.

"Not me, messmate. I says it's dangerous to be safe to get meddling with things like that."

"Ay, ay!" came from two or three of the other men, but only in a half-hearted way.

But it was encouragement enough for slow, quiet, fat Isaac Gregg to continue—

"You see, gentlemen, it's like this. That there long-necked sarpint thing has only got to make a rush and chuck itself out of the water aboard us here, and break the schooner's back, and where should us be then?"

"I don't know," said the skipper shortly. "But what do you say, doctor?"

"Well, for my part, speaking for the advancement of natural history, Captain Chubb, I should like to see that creature lying dead upon the surface, and left floating long enough for you and your men to take measurements, while my nephew and I did the best we could with pen and pencil to describe what might very well be called one of the wonders of the world."

"And what do you say, squire?" asked the skipper, speaking eagerly.

"I say you'd better load the gun again, Captain Chubb," replied Rodd, speaking very hurriedly. "We might hit it if it came up, and then we could try and do what my uncle says."

"Right," growled the skipper. "Man the gun again, and you, Cross, come below with me and fetch a canister of grape-shot and a full business charge to load the piece. You lads who are not wanted for the gun, each of you take a musket and an axe. It aren't likely that we shall come to close quarters, but if we do—well, you know what."

Every man on board joined in a hearty cheer, and in a very short time the preparations were made, even the cook playing his part of keeping the galley fire ready, while directly afterwards he edged up to where Joe Cross was in conversation with Rodd.

"Thought I would come the old-fashioned dodge as well, sir," he said.

"Old-fashioned? What do you mean?"

"For firing the gun, sir. I've left the poker in between the bars to get red-hot. Put that to your touch-hole. Beats slow match hollow; don't it, Joe?"

"Ay, that it do, mate, if you have got the fire, and the poker's hot; but you have to come back to the slow match if neither one nor t'other's ready. Well, Mr Rodd, sir, it don't look as if any of us is going to have the watch below to-night."

"No, Joe, it doesn't. Do you think the monster will come up again?"

"Can't say, sir, I'm sure, and to speak honest, there are times when I hope it will and there are times when I hope it won't. Sea-sarpints aren't much in my line. I have had a turn in a whaler, and though a right whale is a nasty kind of a bird to tackle when she is in her flurry, you know what you are about. There's the harpoon in her, and you have got her at the end of your line, and you're waiting for her with your lances ready to put her out of her misery. But even if you have got a few shot in her, a sea-sarpint's different sort of cattle altogether, and I didn't like the looks of this 'ere one at all. She came up quite vicious-like to look after us. You see her eye, Mr Rodd, sir? I did, sir, for a moment. There was a sort of leery look about it, and it seemed to me as if she had just picked you out and meant to have you. All the lads here know I'm one as never brags, but if there's a bit of fighting on I am always ready to stick to my mates, just as I would now."

"Ay, ay, Joe! That's a true word," came in chorus.

"Thank you, messmates," said Joe modestly. "Well, then, I'll speak out. Between you and me and the post, my lads, I hope this 'ere annymile won't come up to give us a shot."

There was a low murmur at this which sounded very much like assent.

"It's narvous sort of work, you see. If the schooner had been fitted out as a sea-sarpinter with the right and proper sort of tackle, why, that's another thing. But then you see, she aren't been. We haven't got the proper sort of tools, and we aren't been drilled to use them even if we had."

"That's a true word, messmate," came in chorus.

"And that's why I says I hope she won't look us up to-night; but if she is following us up and keeping one of them great sarcer eyes upon our keel somewheres far away down below, I hope she'll leave it till morning. After sunrise we shall be able to see better, and have had time to get rid of a nasty unked sort of feeling which rather bothers me just now, though I don't know how it is with you. There, Mr Rodd, sir, you faced the thing splendid. I see you, sir. You didn't turn round and run away like Ikey Gregg. You stood fast there with your hands resting on the rail, staring the thing straight in the face. How you managed to do it I don't know. But do it you did, and I admired you, sir."

It was moonlight, and the change in Rodd's face passed unobserved, but it was scarlet, and felt so hot that the boy involuntarily raised his hand to his cheek, while a feeling of annoyance pervaded him as he looked at Joe Cross suspiciously, in the belief that the man must be bantering him; but as far as the boy could make out, Joe Cross's frank countenance was quite innocent of guile and he was speaking exactly as he felt.

But Rodd was not at rest, and in the calm still watch that followed, with every one on the look-out and ready to imagine that each phosphorescent flash in the sea meant the moving upwards of the uncanny enemy, Rodd waited till all was still and restful and they seemed likely to be undisturbed, to make his way to Joe Cross's side and get him alone.



CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

QUERY—A COWARD?

Joe had stationed himself on the larboard bow with his elbows resting upon the bulwark and his chin in his hands, gazing straight away to sea, his eyes fixed a little to the left of the dazzling path of light that extended from the moon to the schooner.

So intent was he upon something he fancied he saw, that he did not hear Rodd's approach, and started violently upon being touched.

"All right, sir; not asleep," he cried. "Oh, it's you, Mr Rodd! I fancied that it was the skipper, who thought he had caught me napping. Just you look yonder, sir. You are coming fresh to it. I have been staring till the little flashes of light make my eyes swim. Now then, just you look about half a cable's length left of that line of light, and see if you can't see something breaking water there."

Rodd gazed intently in the direction indicated for some little time without speaking.

"See anything, sir?" said Joe at last. "No."

"That'll do then, sir. It was my fancy. Well, we are having a quiet night of it, sir. No more signs of that old sea bogy, and like enough we shan't get a squint at it again."

"I don't suppose we shall now, Joe."

"Sleepy, sir?"

"Not a bit, Joe. Here, I want to speak to you about that thing."

"I am listening, sir. Talk away. Rather queer, warn't it, to come upon a thing like that just when you didn't expect it?"

"Yes, Joe; and you said something about my not being frightened."

"Yes, sir. You quite capped me."

"Stop a minute, Joe. I want to say something to you."

"All right, sir," cried the sailor, looking wonderingly at the lad, who was speaking to him in a husky impressive tone.

But Rodd remained speechless, and it was the sailor who broke the silence.

"I'm a-listening, sir. Heave ahead."

"Yes," cried Rodd desperately. "Look here, Joe; were you making fun of me?"

"Fun of you? No, sir. It was only my way, just to make things a bit more cheery, for every one on deck seems to be in the doldrums, all on account of that great squirmy thing."

"No, no, I don't mean that," cried Rodd. "I mean, making fun of me when you told the men I wasn't frightened."

"Fun on you? No, sir. Why, it was as I said. You quite capped me, to see you standing facing that thing without shrinking a bit. I should have expected to see you frightened to death."

"Then it was because you didn't look well, Joe," said Rodd, in a low hoarse voice, as he made a brave effort to set himself right with the man. "I was frightened—so horribly frightened that I couldn't stir."

"Well, and no wonder, sir. Enough to make you. Why, it would have frightened a brass monkey, let alone a man. Look at Ikey Gregg. I believe if you'd ha' 'eard him you would have found he was calling 'Mother!' Poor old chap. There aren't no way of proving it, as one don't know how heavy he was afore, but I believe he melted away a bit. Why, we was all like it, sir. It was a regular startler and no mistake."

"Do you mean honestly that all the men were very much frightened?"

"Why, of course, sir. I telled you I was as bad as bad could be, and my hair stood right up on end—leastwise, it felt as if it did; and I can tell you this: I didn't feel like that when we were going into action, and that's saying a good deal, when a fellow didn't know whether the first sixty-four pounder that was fired wouldn't send its shot right into his chest. And so you felt regular skeart, did you, sir?"

"Yes, Joe; and it made me ashamed to hear you talking about me to the men as you did."

"Oh, well, I don't know as it matters, sir. I said just what I thought, and I rather like to hear what you say, because it seems to brighten me up a bit."

"Why? How?"

"Oh, because it makes me feel that I wasn't quite such a cur as I thought I was. There, it's all right, sir, and I suppose it's quite nat'ral for any one to feel afraid when there's something really worth feeling afraid on. I dare say we should both be just as bad again if that thing was to shove its head out of the water again close by here."

"Then you don't think I was such a coward, Joe?"

"You! You a coward! Tchah! Let me hear any fellow say you are, and I'll hit him in the eye. But there, it's just as if that thing knowed we were all ready and waiting for it, and so it won't show. I'm beginning to wish that the skipper would send everybody but the watch for their spell below; but I don't suppose he will, and so we must make the best of it. But if I was you, sir, and didn't belong to the crew, I should just slip off below and turn into my bunk till breakfast-time in the morning. What do you say?"

"No," said Rodd shortly; and he stopped on deck and watched with the men till the sun was well on high.

Then the suggestion of breakfast seemed so full of promise that after partaking thereof he went back on deck, to stand scanning the beautiful sunlit plain with the glass; but no further glimpse was seen of the strange monster that day, nor yet during the next six weeks, during which time they glided into port for fresh provisions twice, the second time in that of the sunny Canary Islands. There a week was spent in inspecting the beauties and the wonders of the old volcanic caverns, before they were well at sea again with the sun daily growing hotter and sea and sky more beautiful.

Days upon days were spent in exploring the attractions of the Sargasso Sea, till the doctor cried "Hold! Enough!" For the bottles in the laboratory were being filled up too fast, and there was too much to do yet in the farther south, towards which they sailed slowly and steadily on, till one day a holiday was announced, for the men had been hard at work rowing here and rowing there, hauling in drag and dredge, sounding and hoisting, harpooning fish, and busying themselves with the spoil they dragged on board, while Captain Chubb stumped up and down with his hands very deep in his pockets, scowling at his sullied deck, and wearing clouds upon his sun-tanned brow, till Dr Robson bade the men throw all the rest overboard, this order, for which the skipper had been impatiently waiting, being immediately supplemented by another, brief and prompt.

"Buckets! Swabs!"

And then as the slime of mollusc, fish and seaweed was washed away, and the deck of the schooner rapidly grew white again, the skipper smiled and entered into a pleasant chat with the tired naturalist and his nephew.

The men's holiday was spent after the fashion of such holidays, over the buffoonery enjoyed by the crew, especially in olden days, in crossing the line; and then it was onward again amidst glorious sunrises and sunsets, amidst calms and fervent seas that seemed to blaze back the heat of the sun.

It was all new to Rodd, and all glorious. He was never tired of seeing the flying-fish skim out of the water to seek safety, scattered by the pursuit of some bonito or dolphin, watching them till they dipped down into the smooth surface, as if to gather new strength, and then skim out again.

The dolphins and bonito were caught, the boy growing skilful in darting down the harpoon-like "grains," the modern form of Neptune fish-spear.

There were times too when the boy expressed his wonder that in spite of all the time they had been sailing south, it had been such a rare thing to meet or overtake another vessel.

"A pretty good proof," the doctor would say, "of the vastness of the ocean."

"And of how there is plenty of room, uncle, for any number of wonderful creatures such as we have never seen yet. But are you always going sailing on like this?"

"Why, aren't you satisfied?" said Uncle Paul.

"Satisfied, uncle? Oh yes, with what we are doing. But I haven't had nearly enough. I should like to go oil sailing like this for—"

"Ever?" said the doctor dryly.

"Oh no, uncle; I mean for long enough yet. But I say, isn't the world beautiful?"

"More beautiful, boy, than words can express," replied the doctor gravely. "But no. Now we are getting into the Southern Tropics I am thinking of going more to the east and into the great bay, so as to get within range of the African shores. Perhaps we shall make for the mouths of one or two of the rivers, and get within soundings where we can do more dredging. I anticipate some strange discoveries in those portions of the ocean; but at present we will keep on skimming the surface and finding what we can."

And so during the next two or three days they went sailing on, and found something that they had least expected, to Rodd Harding's great wonder and delight.



CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

THE KING'S SHIP.

It was the afternoon of a blazing hot day, when the pitch was oozing out in drops in every exposed place, and Rodd had found it exceedingly unpleasant to touch any piece of the brass rail, bolt, the bell, or either of the guns, for the schooner was gliding on southward with every scrap of her white sails spread, and the wind that wafted her onward sent a feeling of lassitude through all on board.

Some days before, Captain Chubb had set his men to work to rig up a small awning aft, and the doctor having declared that it was too hot for work, he and Rodd had spent most of their time beneath this shelter, till the latter had struck against it, declaring it was all nonsense, for the sun came hotter through the canvas than it did where there was no shade at all, or else it seemed to, for there was no breeze in the shelter, and though what wind there was seemed as if it had come past the mouth of a furnace, still it was wind, and the lad declared that it was far preferable to stewing under the awning.

It was a lazy time, and the men, who had dressed as lightly as they could contrive, went very slowly about their several tasks, and at last when Rodd strolled towards the man at the wheel, he had to listen to a petition.

It was fat Isaac Gregg who was taking his trick, as he called it, and he began at Rodd at once.

"I've got something to ask you, sir," he said.

"Oh, bother!" cried Rodd, taking off his straw hat to turn it into a fan. "It's too hot to listen. Don't ask me anything, because if you do, I shall be too stupid to tell you."

"Oh, it aren't hard, sir," said the man innocently, as he let a couple of spokes pass through his hands and then ran them back again. "It's only as the lads asked me—"

"Well, well, go on," said Rodd, for the man stopped. "Phew! It's just as if the tops of the waves where they curl over were white hot."

"Yes, sir, it is a bit warm," said the man; "but I've felt it warmer."

"Couldn't," said Rodd abruptly.

"Oh yes, sir; much hotter than this."

"What! You've felt it hotter than this?"

"Oh yes, sir."

"Then why didn't you melt away? I should have thought you would run like a candle all into a lump."

"Ah, that's your fun, sir. Some of the lads has been telling you that I am fat. That's a joke they have got up among them, just because I'm a little thicker than some of the others. But as I was a-saying, sir, they ast me to ast you—"

"Now it's coming then," sighed Rodd. "Phew! Wish all my hair had been cut off. It gets so wet, and sticks to my forehead."

"Yes, sir, it's best short," said the man. "Just you look at mine. You should have it done like this."

As he spoke the sailor took off his hat and exhibited a head which had been trimmed down till all the scalp resembled a dingy brush, for it was cut with the most perfect regularity, for the hair to stand up in bristly fashion for about a quarter of an inch from the skin.

"Why, who cut that?" cried Rodd, with something approaching to energy, this being the first thing that had taken his attention that day.

"Joe Cross, sir. He's a first-rate hand with a comb and a pair of scissors. You let him do your head, sir and you won't know yourself afterwards."

"Oh yes, I should," said the boy sleepily, gazing down at the quivering compass and its many points.

"I mean you would feel so comfortable, sir."

"Oh, well, then, I will. Anything," cried Rodd—"anything not to be so hot!"

"That's right, sir. Ast me to ast you, sir."

"Well, you've been asking for the last half-hour. What is it?" cried Rodd peevishly.

"To ast the doctor, sir—"

"For some physic to make them cool?" snapped out Rodd. "Tell them to go and ask him themselves, and he'll say what I do—that they are not to eat so much nor drink so much, and not to work in the sun. There, that's all uncle would say."

"Yes, sir, but that aren't it," cried Gregg, making one of the spokes of the wheel swing from hand to hand.

"Then what do they want?"

"Why, sir, it seems rum, but Joe Cross and the other lads know better what's good for them than I do. You see, sir, they want to get to work again at your fishing and hauling, or rowing about, for they says they can keep much cooler when they are moving about and got to think what they are doing than when there's no work on hand and nothing to think about at all."

"Oh, very well," said Rodd grumpily, "I'll go and ask him, for I am about sick of this. I think there must be some volcanoes here, or something of that kind, for I never felt it so hot before."

"You aren't used to it, sir; but I thought you would, sir, and the lads said they thought you would too. Thank you, sir."

Rodd yawned, turned slowly on his heels, and strolled away to where Uncle Paul was sitting back in an Indian cane chair, resting the carefully-focussed spy-glass upon a half-opened book standing upon its front edges propped upon four more in the middle of a little table.

"Ah, Pickle, my lad! You had better stop in the shade. I don't want you to be getting any head trouble in this torrid sun."

"Oh, I am all right, uncle; but the men want to begin fishing or doing something again, keeping cool."

"Too hot till towards evening, my boy," replied the doctor. "But look here; you were saying only the other day how strange it was that we saw so few vessels. Well, here's one at all events—a three-master."

"Oh, whereabouts, uncle?" cried the boy eagerly.

"Away to the west yonder, hull down. There, take the glass."

As Rodd was arranging it to his own satisfaction the doctor went on quietly—

"Out here I am not going to give an opinion, but if we were in the garden at home in the look-out I should say that was a man-of-war coming into Plymouth port."

"Yes, that she is, uncle," cried Rodd, who had forgotten the heat in this new excitement.

"A man-of-war—that she is!" said Uncle Paul quietly. "That sounds ridiculous, Pickle. But one has to give way to custom."

"Yes," said Rodd—"a frigate. I can tell by her white sails."

"Not big enough for a frigate, my boy. A sloop of war, I should think. Now, what can she be doing down here?"

"I know, uncle," cried the boy excitedly—"looking after the slave ships."

"Ah, very likely," cried Uncle Paul. "I shouldn't be surprised. We are pretty near to that neighbourhood; and if she is it's quite likely that she'll overhaul us. Ah, here's Captain Chubb coming up. Look here, skipper!"

The captain, who looked very hot, and whose face proclaimed very plainly that he had been having an after-dinner nap, came slowly up, stooped within the awning, and in silence took hold of the spy-glass, whose glistening black sides were quite hot, and which Rodd thrust into his hands.

He wanted no telling what for, but raised and adjusted the glass to his own sight, took a quick shot at the distant object upon the horizon, and then lowered it directly. "British man-of-war," he grunted. "That's bad."

"Why?" cried Rodd sharply.

The skipper turned upon him, looked at him fiercely, and then almost barked out—

"You don't know, youngster?"

"No. What do you mean?"

"Means that I've got as smart a picked crew as a man need wish to have."

"To be sure," said Rodd; "of course you have. I do know that."

"Well," said the skipper gruffly, "I don't want to lose them; that's all."

Rodd and his uncle exchanged glances, while the skipper went and stood at the side and began scanning the sky, to come back shaking his head.

"No more wind, and not likely to be."

"Well, we don't want any more, do we?" said Uncle Pad.

"Ay; if a good breeze would spring up I'd show them a clean pair of heels."

"Oh, I see," cried Rodd excitedly. "You think that they would press some of our men and take them aboard. Oh, Captain Chubb, you mustn't let them do that!"

"I don't mean to, my lad, if I can help it. I hadn't reckoned on seeing one of them down here."

"Uncle thinks they're after the slavers."

"Nay, my lad, I don't think that. More likely after one of the palm-oil craft to see if they can pick up a few men out of them."

"Oh, that's a false alarm, captain," said Uncle Paul. "My papers and the work we're upon with a grant from Government would clear us."

"Ought to, sir," said the skipper gruffly, "but I wouldn't trust them. If a King's ship wants men, good smart sailors such as ours, men who have served, her captain wouldn't be above shutting his eyes and making a mistake. Anyhow I'm going to crack on as hard as I can till she brings us up with a gun, and then I suppose I shall have to heave to or risk the consequences."

"Hadn't you better risk the consequences, Captain Chubb?" said Rodd, in a half-whisper.

"Here you, Rodney, mind what you are saying, sir! It's the duty of every Englishman to respect the law, and I feel perfectly certain, Captain Chubb, that there is nothing to fear in that direction, so go quietly on as you are, unless you are obliged to heave to. Seeing how little wind there is, and how distant that sloop, I think it's very probable that she'll not overhaul us before it grows dark."

"Oh, uncle," cried Rodd, "she'll have plenty of time. The sun won't go down for an hour or so."

"Well, how long will it be before it's dark afterwards?" cried Uncle Paul. "You forget that we are in the tropics, and how short a time it is between sunset and darkness."

"Yes, sir; you are quite right there," said the skipper, "and that's what I'm hoping for. If we can only get the bit of time over 'twixt this and the dark, I shan't care, for she won't see us in the morning."

By this time one of the sailors forward had noticed the skipper using the glass, seen what took his attention, and communicated it to his messmates, with the result that all who had been below gathered forward and stood anxiously watching the beautiful vessel, whose sails glistened in the sunshine as if their warp was of silver and their woof of gold.

Rodd noticed at once what a change had taken place amongst the men. All listlessness had gone, and they were watching the King's ship, for such Captain Chubb had declared her to be at once, and were talking in excited whispers together, their manner showing that whatever the captain's opinion might be, theirs was, as sailors, that they would not trust a King's ship that was in want of men.

After a time Rodd was attracted towards them, and he strolled up, Joe Cross turning to him at once, to begin questioning him in a low tone.

"What does the skipper say, sir?"

"He said it was a sloop of war, Joe."

"Oh yes, sir, we know that," said the man irritably; "but we've been 'specting him here ever so long. So's our bo'sun. There, look; he's got his pipe in his hand. Didn't he say nothing about no orders?"

"No, Joe."

"Didn't he say nothing about hysting another stunsail or two?"

"No, Joe."

"Oh-h-h!" came in a groan from the men; and Rodd felt for them, for of late they had become more and more attached to their position, and seemed as happy as a pack of school-boys on board the beautiful little schooner.

"But he has been saying something, lads," continued Rodd, in a low tone.

"Ay, ay, of course," cried Joe. "Our old man don't want to lose us, and he knows best what he ought to do. Go on, Mr Rodd, sir; tell us what he means."

"I think he means to keep on quietly, in the hope of the schooner not being signalled to heave to."

"Go on, sir, please, quick!" panted one of the men. "You don't know what it means to us."

"Before it becomes dark," continued Rodd.

"Ay, ay, my lad! That's right, sir. Why, of course," cried Joe exultingly. "Trust our old man, boys;" and whistling loudly a few bars of the Sailor's Hornpipe, he snatched off his straw hat, dashed it down upon the deck, and began to cut and shuffle and heave and turn, going through all the steps as if it were cool as an early spring, while his messmates formed in a ring about him, half stooped with bended knees, joined in the whistle, and beat time upon their knees and clapped hands, till the figure was gone through, and Joe Cross brought his terpsichorean bit of frantic mania to an end, by bringing his right foot down upon the deck with a tremendous stamp which was followed by a hearty cheer.

"That's your sort, Mr Rodd, sir! It's all right," cried Joe, panting, and wiping his streaming face. "If anybody had told me that I could do that ten minutes ago, when I felt as if I had hardly stuff enough in me to lift a leg, I should have told him he was going off his head. Didn't think you could put sperrits into us like that, sir, with just a word, now did you?"

"I am very glad, Joe," said Rodd.

"Glad, sir? So's we—every man Jack on us. You see, it means a lot. When you have got a comfortable mess, and a skipper as makes you haul together in a brotherly sort of fashion, it aren't nice for a King's ship to come down and take its pick of the men. We as is able seamen don't want to shirk, and if we are obliged to go in time of war, why, we are ready to go and do our duty like men; but it do nip a bit at first, sir, 'specially at a time like this."

"Ay, ay, Joe!" came in chorus.

"You see, sir, mostlings life on board a ship is so much hard work, and you has a lot of weather of some sort or another to fight agen; but with the 'ception of that bit of rough time getting into the French port, this 'ere's been a regular holiday, and—Oh my! There she goes, lads!" groaned the poor fellow, for the hull of the sloop had been gradually rising more and more into sight, rapidly at last from the refraction as she had glided into a hotter stratum of air while nearing the schooner, and all at once a white puff of smoke had darted out of her bows, to be followed by a dull heavy thud, when the men turned as with one accord to gaze at their captain, as if hoping against hope that he would still hold on instead of giving an order to fat Gregg, the steersman, to throw the schooner up in the wind.



CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

SUSPICIOUS VISITORS.

There was a dead silence among the men as the soft white ball of smoke rose slowly and steadily, expanding the while and changing its shape till it became utterly diffused. The occupants of the schooner's deck were statuesque in their rigidity, the crew to a man gazing hard at the captain as they strained their hearing to catch his next command; the captain fixed his eyes from one side upon Uncle Paul, while Rodd stood upon the other with his lips apart, gazing questioningly in his uncle's half-closed lids, as the doctor leaned back in his deck-chair with a thoughtful frown upon his brow.

Then he started slightly, for the captain spoke.

"Well, sir," he said, "what's it to be?"

"What's it to be, Captain Chubb? I do not quite understand you."

"It's plain enough, sir. If I throw the schooner up in the wind we shall have a man-of-war's boat aboard us and some young officer in command in less than half-an-hour. First thing will be he'll ask for our papers, and then fall in the lads, run his eye along them, take his pick, and order the poor fellows down into the boat; and that means sending us back to port to fill up the best way we can, and perhaps not do it. On the other hand, I can make believe a bit and still keep forging on a little till the darkness comes, and then—"

The captain stopped.

"Yes," said the doctor; "and then—"

"Well, sir, it would go very hard if that sloop of war wasn't out of sight at daybreak to-morrow morning, and even if she wasn't I don't think she'd overtake us again."

"I feel sure you are wrong, Captain Chubb," said the doctor. "I repeat; my papers and the grant I have had from his Majesty's Government will, I feel sure, be sufficient to protect my schooner and crew from any action in the way of pressing from one of his Majesty's ships. You will have the goodness to obey the signal, and wait and see what follows."

"You mean to risk it, then, sir?"

"I mean to do my duty as a subject of his Majesty the King," said Uncle Paul gravely.

"Very well, sir. I am captain of this schooner, but I am your servant, and it is my duty to obey your orders," said the captain, in his gruffest tones; and he walked heavily to the man at the wheel.

The time had been short, but too long for the patience of the man-of-war, for before the skipper had opened his mouth to give his order to the steersman, another puff of white smoke darted from the sloop's bows, there was a heavy thud, and a cannon ball came skipping over the heaving sea like a flat stone thrown by a clever boy across the waters of a pond—dick, duck and drake fashion—while a thrill ran through all on board as they watched the shot pass right in front of the schooner's bows and give its final splash as it disappeared far away.

Then the captain spoke, the stem of the schooner gradually bore round, with the sails beginning to shiver as she faced more and more to the wind, and finally flapping to and fro; but almost at once as the spokes turned rapidly through Isaac Gregg's hands, a deep low murmur ran through the crew, while a pang-like spasm seemed to shoot upward to cause a choky sensation in Rodd Harding's throat.

"Silence there, my lads," said the skipper sternly, and Rodd noticed the gloomy look upon his countenance as he turned his back to the doctor and walked to the side to stand gazing at the distant ship.

Many minutes had not elapsed before Rodd, who had turned his back to the men so as not to see their faces, and to hide his own, saw through the telescope he was busily using, something moving at the side of the sloop—a something which glided down her side and which was soon afterwards succeeded by a faint glitter as of the movement of rays.

Then there was a splash, followed by the regular dipping of oars which seemed to throw up so much golden spray on either side, and the boy could plainly make out the sloop's boat being rowed out clear of the man-of-war, and gradually increasing its distance.

Rodd watched them for some time, and what was but a speck to his naked eye plainly showed in the field of the glass the regular movements of the men, and now and then a flash suggestive of the rowers wearing something brightly polished.

There were more flashes too caused by the sun's nearly horizontal rays, and these came from right astern, where the golden orange sunshine seemed to be intensified, looking wonderfully red; but ere long the watcher had grasped the fact that he was looking at the bright scarlet coats of so many marines, and then he was able to note the figures of two of the boat's occupants seated together.

"The officers in command," he said to himself.

It was a long row from vessel to vessel, and the sun had begun to dip, and sank quite out of sight as the sloop's cutter came alongside, the men tossed up their oars, and a smart-looking officer of about thirty sprang up the side, followed by a lad of Rodd's own age, who took his attention from the first.

The officer was received at the side by the doctor and captain, Rodd standing slightly behind looking hard at the midshipman, who stared harder, frowning and putting on an air of the most consequential kind, while, presumably involuntarily, his left hand played with the ivory and gilt hilt of a curved dirk, suggestive of a strong desire to draw it out of its sheath and flourish it before the schooner's crew.

The officer nodded importantly at the doctor, and then turned frowningly upon the skipper with the angry question—

"What's the reason you didn't heave to?"

"Didn't give me time," growled the captain surlily.

"No insolence, sir! You ought to have obeyed the first gun. You are an Englishman, and by the look of you have been long enough at sea to know the rules when you encounter a man-of-war. Now then, what ship's this?"

"Maid of Salcombe, Plymouth."

"Owner?"

"I am," said the doctor quietly.

"Oh! What are you trading in?"

"I am not trading," said the doctor quietly. "This schooner is upon a scientific expedition, under the auspices of the English Government."

"Oh," said the officer suspiciously; and he looked from the doctor to the skipper, and from thence ran his eye over the crew gathered forward, while the midshipman altered the pitch of his hat, turned towards Rodd, whom for the last few moments he had been ignoring, and looked him up and down in a supercilious manner which made the blood mount to the boy's forehead, and set him staring down at the middy's bright shoes, from whence he slowly raised his eyes as far as the belt which supported the dirk, and from there higher up to his hat, where he fixed his eyes upon the officer's cockade and kept them obstinately there, till the lad's nostrils began to expand, he grew as red in the face as Rodd, and his menacing eyes seemed to say, You insolent young civilian, how dare you!

"Rather a strong crew, skipper," said the lieutenant sharply.

"Yes, sir; picked men," replied Captain Chubb.

"And there's a look about them of the able seaman, R.N."

"Perhaps so, sir," replied the skipper, who gazed bluntly back at the intruder.

"Well-found schooner, skipper, and carries a press of sail."

"Yes, sir. Very smart craft," replied the skipper.

"Long gun amidships and a couple of small brass guns forward," continued the lieutenant, who seemed to miss nothing. "Very roomy hold below, I should say."

"Yes, sir. Built for a Mediterranean orange boat."

"And no cargo, I think you said."

"No, sir; only scientific traps, as Dr Robson here calls them."

"Yes," said the doctor, interposing.

"I am not talking to you, sir," said the lieutenant haughtily. "Your turn will come."

Rodd's uncle bowed, and turned away, frowning.

"Stop, sir!" cried the officer sharply.

"What insolence, uncle!" said Rodd aloud; and he turned away from the midshipman, to cross to his uncle's side.

"What's that?" shouted the lieutenant, and the middy clapped his hand to the hilt of his dirk.

"I said what insolence, sir. My uncle is a gentleman."

"And it seems that his nephew is not. Be silent, boy, and recollect in whose presence you stand. I am a King's officer.—Now, Mr—what is your name? Robson? Have the goodness to tell me how it is that, with a light, fast-sailing schooner, well-armed, and with a crew evidently fighting men, you are found here in the neighbourhood of one of the notorious slave-supplying rivers? You may just as well speak the truth, for in all probability your schooner will be a prize to his Majesty's sloop of war Diadem."

"I beg your pardon," said the doctor quietly. "Suspicious appearances can always be found by those who seek for them. If you will have the goodness to step below with the captain you can examine the papers and the scientific fittings of portions of the hold which were prepared under my instructions when I started upon the voyage. I don't think, sir, you will find any accommodation has been made for the reception of a black living cargo of those poor unfortunate objects of humanity in whom a certain vile nefarious traffic is carried on. Captain Chubb, pray take this gentleman below and show him everything he desires."

"Oh," said the lieutenant sharply, "if this is so, Mr Rodson—"

"Dr Robson, at your service," said the owner of the name, glancing sharply at his nephew, with a faint smile upon his lips, for at the utterance by the lieutenant of the syllable Rod the boy had started violently.

As the doctor spoke he took out his pocket-book, drew forth a card, and held it between two fingers in doctor's fashion towards the officer.

"Humph! MD, Plymouth. Oh, well, Dr Robson, I hope to find that I have been labouring under a mistake;" and he raised his hand to his cocked hat. "But I have my duty to do."

"Don't apologise, sir," said the doctor, who had changed as in a moment from the sturdy naturalist into the urbane medical man. "I quite see your necessity for guarding against imposture. Pray proceed."

The lieutenant nodded sharply, and leaving his guard of a couple of marines at the gangway, and the boat's crew ready to spring up the side at the slightest alarm, he followed the skipper to the cabin hatch, the doctor hesitating as if in doubt for a moment or two, and then following deliberately down the cabin stairs.



CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE KING'S MIDDY.

Rodd, full of excitement, was burning to follow too and see what he looked upon as the officer's discomfiture; but there was that middy, who seemed to be left in command of the marines, and he felt a peculiar sensation which completely mastered him, filling him as it did with a desire to have what he afterwards called a good fall out with that fellow, who seemed to make him metaphorically set up his feathers all round his neck and go at him as a strange young cockerel of a different breed who had suddenly appeared in the poultry-yard where he dwelt.

So Rodd stayed on deck, thrust his hands into his pockets, ignored the presence of the middy, and with something of a strut marched up to the two marines in the gangway, whistling softly the while, gave each a friendly nod, examined their grounded arms and their stiff uniform with its abundant pipe-clay, and ended by spreading his legs a little, swinging himself slowly toe and heel, and saying patronisingly—

"Rather hot toggery that, my lads, for weather like this."

"Well, of all the impudence!" cried the young officer hotly; and he took a step towards where Rodd was standing.

Rodd faced slowly round, looked at the boy superciliously, then said as coolly as could be—

"Hullo, midshipmite! Not gone below?"

"No, puppy, I have not gone below," and as he spoke the lad pressed the hilt of his dirk involuntarily and sharply downward.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Rodd. "Why, that looks like wagging your tail like a moorhen. I say, why didn't you draw that skewer just now? My word, you did look fierce!"

One of the marines tittered, and the other spread his mouth into a broad grin, while, convulsed with rage, the young officer turned upon both furiously, making them draw themselves up as stiff as their muskets.

"How dare you!" cried the middy, turning back to Rodd, and now becoming fully conscious of the fact that the schooner's crew gathered forward were gazing at the scene with intense enjoyment.

"What's the matter, reefer?" said Rodd, whose face was scarlet, but whose words sounded as cool and indifferent as if he were calm in the extreme.

"Matter, you insolent blackguard!" cried the midshipman. "If I were not on duty, and too much of a gentleman to soil my hands with a schooner's loblolly boy, I would give you a sound thrashing with my belt."

"Would you?" said Rodd coolly. "That's the worst of you reefers. You are nearly all of you like that when you come ashore at Plymouth. It's your uniform and the wearing of a skewer that makes you all so cocky. Now, do you know you have said what a fellow just your age once said to me at Saltash—but he didn't. He had an accident, and then we shook hands, and I took him home to my uncle's and helped him to bathe his face. It was such a hot day that his nose bled a good deal. But we stopped it. Nice fellow he was too, afterwards. So I dare say you'd be if I had taken you in tow a bit."

"I understand you, sir," panted the middy; "and look here, I shall not forget this."

"Pooh! Yes you will," said Rodd, with a mocking laugh. "I wish you were going to stop on board. We have got a spare cot here. Get your old man to give you leave when your lieutenant has done smelling in all the lockers below. You come while the two vessels are in company, and I'll teach you how to use the gloves."

"Oh, if I wasn't on duty!" panted the middy furiously. "I haven't got a card with me, but give me yours. We may meet again."

"Hope we shall, I'm sure," said Rodd. "I say, reefer, don't be so jolly disappointed because you won't have the price of half a nigger for prize-money."

"Pah!" ejaculated the middy furiously; and turning his back upon Rodd he stepped to the side and looked over into the boat, to run his eye furiously over her crew, who were all sitting upon the alert, ready for any order that might be given.

But as he turned away and faced inboard, to his annoyance he found Rodd close up, smiling carelessly in his face.

"I say, reefer," he said, "you do look hot."

"Sir!" snapped out the middy, trying to look the boy down.

"I say, don't be so waxy because you are disappointed."

"I beg, sir, that you will not address your remarks to me; and please recollect that you and yours are not out of the wood yet."

"All right; only look here; your lads have had a long row, and you have got another one back. Let's give the poor fellows a bucket of water, and I'll pour a bottle of our lime-juice in and some syrup. It makes a splendid drink. Look there; those two red herrings of yours have begun licking their dry lips at the very thought of it."

The midshipman seemed to give himself a snatch, but he glanced at the two marines, and then turned and looked over into the boat, for he was horribly thirsty himself.

"Dry, my lads?" he said. "Like some water?"

"Thankye, sir!" came in chorus, and Rodd called out at once—

"Joe Cross! Bucket of fresh water—two pannikins! And is the steward there?"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Two bottles of lime-juice and some syrup for the boat's crew and marines."

Just then Uncle Paul's head appeared above the cabin hatch, and he stepped on deck, coming forward to where the two lads were, Rodd smiling and good-humoured, the middy wearing the aspect of the celebrated dog which had been pelted with big marrow-bones, upon each of which reposed a thick juicy bit of beef.

"Lieutenant Branscombe says will you step down and join us for a few minutes, Mr Lindon."

"Does he want me, sir?"

"Only to partake of a little refreshment this thirsty night."

"That's right," cried. Rodd. "You go on down with uncle. I'll see that your lads have plenty."

"Er—er—no grog, please," said the middy hastily.

"Not a drop, honour bright," said Rodd, laughing. "You shan't be mastheaded for that;" and he clapped the young officer merrily on the back.

The stay would have been longer, but the darkness was coming on fast; still it had been long enough for all to become the best of friends, and when the two officers came on deck it was to find the two crews engaged in a hearty game of repartee, the schooner's men casting jokes down into the boat, and the man-of-war's men hurling them back.

"Yes, a very smart crew, Captain Chubb," said the lieutenant, "but if it hadn't been for the doctor's papers here, we should have been obliged to lighten you of about half-a-dozen, for you know you have no business to have such men as this whilst his Majesty runs short."

Just then the two lads were talking together hard.

"Oh, don't you take any notice of that, Harding. Cocky, you called it. You should drop that; it's too schoolboy-like. You know a fellow may be only a midshipman, still the ship's roll does call him a man, and when a fellow's an officer in command of a lot of sailors, he's obliged to put it on a bit, else he'd never be able to keep them in their places."

"Yes, I see," said Rodd.

"That's right; and before I go I just want to say it was very thoughtful of you to promise that the lads shouldn't have any drink. I got into several rows when I was young and green, and went ashore with boats' crews. They used to try on all sorts of dodges to get away to the public-house. I say, get that uncle of yours to stop about here fishing for a bit. I want to get you aboard the Di and spend an evening with us at the mess. Do. I shall get to like you."

"All right; I will try," said Rodd. "It wouldn't be the first time I've been aboard a man-of-war."

"Eh? Where?"

"Plymouth harbour."

"Oh yes, I forgot. That's where you live when you are at home. Why don't you join altogether? You are just cut out for a middy."

"Couldn't leave uncle. Going to be a naturalist."

"A what?"

"Scientific gentleman."

"But serve the King!"

"What, and be sent down here hunting after the blackbirding blackguards?"

"Pshaw! That's not really what we are here for; only if we see a suspicious-looking craft we board her."

"Then what are you here for?"

"King's business. Mum. Mustn't say."

"Now, Mr Lindon! Good-evening, Captain Chubb; and good-evening, doctor. Glad to have met you, sir, and I hope you won't put me down in your black books as homo durissimus, or some other scientific name. Give way, my lads. Mr Lindon! Do you want to be left behind?"

"All right, sir," cried the middy, springing into the boat and coming down into the arms of a couple of the men. "Good-night, Harding! We shall expect you on board the Di."

Down dropped the oars on either side, and then splash, splash, in regular movement the blades tossed up the beautiful pale lambent water, while here and there they broke up the reflection of the stars that were gradually appearing in the soft violet sky, while the boat glided on farther and farther from the schooner, making its way towards the lights of the sloop, from which all of a sudden there was a sharp flash, followed at a perceptible interval by the report of a musket.

This was answered a few seconds later by a flash and smart crack from the sloop's cutter, whose course Rodd leaned over the side to watch till it was invisible, when he turned from the side, to find Joe Cross waiting and evidently watching him.

"Rather close shave, sir," he said. "I began to feel as if some of us was going to have our 'oliday come to an end. Wouldn't have been so bad, though, for there are some very jolly fellows there, and it aren't half a dusty life aboard a man-of-war when you have got over the first few days, and being what they calls homesick. Aren't no fear of their coming back for us, is there?"

"Not the least, Joe. You are all safe enough."

"We are a-going to give the doctor, sir, such a cheer when he comes on deck again—three times three, and one in for you. My word, sir, the lads did laugh to see you take the starch out of that there young reefer! It was fine!"

"Oh, never mind about that, Joe. But I say, you have been aboard a man-of-war. What would a sloop like that be doing down here?"

"Why, you know, sir; looking after the blackbird catchers—the slavers."

"Oh no; they are not on this station for that."

"Must be, sir."

"No, Joe."

"Well, but, sir, you heard what the lufftenant said to our old man. That's what they were after, sir, and a bit disappointed too, until you and the doctor made them so friendly. They thought they'd got hold of this fine craft, nice little prize, for she'd sell well just as she stands after being condemned. Handy little bit of pocket-money for them in these days when the war is over. Rather a puzzler to them at first. The second luff—that's what he was—had never tackled a natural history craft before, and he wouldn't believe it. That's what they are here for, sir, trying to put a stop to the slave trade. We come upon one in the Naaera once—the nearer and dearer we used to call her, sir. Just about such a sloop as that is. It wasn't our business, but we boarded her, the slave ship, I mean, in a calm, and the blackguards aboard of her showed fight and beat our boat off in trying to get away with their sweeps. They were making for one of these swampy rivers out eastward, rowing as hard as they could, and bringing up a lot of the poor niggers from below to help pull at the sweeps. Sweeps, indeed! Nice sweeps they were! And if they once got into the river we should have lost them."

"Well?" said Rodd. "And they beat you back?"

"That they did, sir. Took us quite by surprise. We never thought they would have the cheek to resist; and we lay off, rubbing our sore ears and growling and spitting like angry cats, not knowing what to do, feeling that we should get worse off if we pursued, and ashamed to go back to face our old man; and just as we were feeling at our worst we knew that our skipper had been watching us all the time with his glass, and there was our launch coming full swing, chock-full of men showing their teeth. That set us all up again, and we were like new men. Round went our boat's head, and we were off in full pursuit of the slaver, the lads pulling so hard that we got alongside before the launch could overtake us, swarmed over her low gunwale, and went at the slaver's crew tooth and nail, so savage that every man of us showed them the cutlass practice in fine style, driving them back step by step till if we had had strength enough we should have driven them overboard or down below; but they were too strong for us. Put half-a-pound weight in a scale, sir, if there's a pound in t'other it is too much for it, and so it was here, sir. We boarded her from the starn, and had driven them right up into the bows, but being a bit india-rubbery, when they could get no farther they bounced back on us and we were being driven step by step along the deck, farther and farther aft, till they gathered theirselves together with a rush, yelling like demons, and the next thing would have been that such of us as could stand would have been driven over into our boat again. But there was a regular hearty British cheer when we least expected it, for we had forgotten all about our other boat, and there were the launchers swarming over her bows and taking them in the rear. That made our lads take heart again. We cheered back, and charged, and there were the slavers, blacks, half-breeds and Portuguese, took, as you might say, between the jaws of a big rat-trap, every one of whose teeth was a British sailor; and to save being chopped in two, down they all tumbled into the slaver's hold, trapped themselves like the poor wretches the hold was packed with. My word, Mr Rodd, sir, there are some things as a fellow never can forget, and that was one of them. It was just awful, sir!"

"What, did you kill them all?" cried Rodd, horror-stricken.

"Nay, sir, not one. We might have killed some of them if they had kept on showing fight; and I don't say, mind you, as some of them hadn't got some very awkward cuts, for when a British tar's fighting in a good cause, and been knocked about till his monkey's well up, his habit is to hit hard; but there, as soon as we had driven that lot below they chucked their knives and axes and pikes away and began to howl for mercy. What I meant was so awful was that place down below—that there hold with the slaver's crew trampling about and trying to hide themselves amongst the chained-up cargo. Awful aren't the word for it, sir! The lads couldn't stand it: let alone the sick and dying, there were some there that must have been dead for days, and that in a close hold in a sea like this! But I believe it was much hotter. Even the slaver's crew themselves begged to be let out—and there, I won't say any more about it. It was quite time even then that our old country began to put a stop to the slave trade, and I am sorry to say they aren't done it yet. That's what made us chaps to-night so free-and-easy with that there boat's crew. You see, you can't help liking fellows who are trying to put a stop to things like that."

"No, Joe, of course not. But that's not what they are down here for."

"Who says so, sir?"

"Why, that midshipman, Mr Lindon, told me so."

"Well, he ought to know, sir. What did he say they were here for, then?"

"He didn't say, only that it was private and he couldn't speak."

"Well, I don't know, then, only a man-of-war wouldn't be down here for nothing; that's pretty sure. Maybe we shall run into company with them again some day, and then I dare say we shall know. They gave us lads a fright, but I aren't sorry we met them, sir, for it was a bit of a change. Yes, Mr Rodd, sir, they are down here on some business pertickler secret and sealed orders; but you wait a bit, sir, and I dare say one of these days you'll find out."



CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

OH, MURTHER!

Rodd was early on deck next morning for his bath, which consisted of so many buckets of water fresh fished up and dashed upon him by the men as a makeshift, consequent upon Captain Chubb telling him that he could not have any swims on account of the sharks. "Can't spare you, my lad," he had said. "But I haven't seen a shark," grumbled Rodd. "No, my lad, but they would very soon see you. You never know where those gentlemen are."

So Rodd went on deck when sea and sky looked dim and a faint mist lay low upon the surface of the ocean, making everything indistinct. "She's gone, sir; she's gone!"

"Who's she, and where has she gone?" said Rodd, rather sleepily.

"The Diadem, sir."

"What, the sloop of war? Not she! You will see her come peeping out of the fog yonder before long."

"Nay, sir; she's gone right off, and it's all right. My word, I wish we had got a fiddle here!"

"A fiddle! What for?"

"Hornpipe, sir. The boys are all bubbling over and don't know how to bear themselves. Nothing like a few kicks up and down the deck to a well-played old tune, to get rid of it all."

"Why, what are you talking about?" cried Rodd.

"Talking about, sir? Ah, you never knowed what it was to be a sailor, and when you are free never knowing for a moment how soon you may be pressed. Why, I don't believe there was a man Jack on us as slept a wink last night with thinking about this morning."

"What, for fear you would be pressed, after what uncle said?"

"Ay, ay, sir. Your uncle meant right enough, and he believed what he said, and that there lieutenant was civil enough; but a second lieutenant aren't a first lieutenant, sir, and a first lieutenant aren't a post-captain. We all talked a bit last night, and put that and that together, and Isaac Gregg, who aren't a very wise chap—you see, sir, he's got too much fat about him to leave room for anything else—but he said something smart last night. 'Yes,' he says, 'my lads, that all sounds right enough, but suppose when that boat got back the captain says, Yes, he says, it's all very well, and I dare say that there gent got leave from Government to man his schooner and come down here bottling sea-leeches and other insects of that kind; but I am short of men for the King's ship, and that's more consequence than what he's doing of. So you just start back at daybreak in the boat with my compliments to Dr Robson, saying I'm very sorry, but he must please hand over six of the best lads he's got.'"

"Oh, nonsense, Joe! The captain would be too much of a gentleman."

"Being a gentleman, sir, is being a gentleman, but duty's duty, and officers and sailors have to give up everything to that. Last night, whether we was on the watch, or turned in to our hot bunks, every man Jack of us felt that the Bun was right, and a bit envious of him, because, poor chap, he would have been safe. They wouldn't have took him; but we all of us fully expected to see that boat coming back for us this morning. But not only aren't there no boat, but the sloop's slipped away in the night and gone."

"Where's she gone, then?"

"Well, that's what we don't know, sir, and we don't care."

"But are you sure, Joe? She may be lying off yonder in the mist."

"Oh no, she aren't, sir. Two on us have been up right aloft till we could lay our hands on the main truck; and when you are up there you are looking right over the fog. It's wonderful how close it lies to the water. It's all right, sir, and I believe we are safe. Aren't you glad?"

"Of course I am, Joe."

"I know you are, sir. But just you think what we must be, just about five hundred times as glad as you are, and we are all ready for anything you like. What's it to be to-day?"

"Well, I don't think we shall do much. Uncle will consider it too hot."

"Hot, sir? Not it! Just right. We shan't mind. Fishing, netting, rowing. You tell him not to think about us. It will just warm us up, for most on us had the shivers all night."

The low mist began to lift soon after Rodd had had his bath, for the level rays of the sun began to pierce the grey haze as the great orange orb slowly rolled up from the depths of ocean, investing it with the loveliest of pearly tints and iridescent hues, while not a speck of sail or the clearly marked lines of topmasts could be seen upon the horizon line.

"Well," said the doctor, at breakfast, as Rodd told him what the men had said, "the heat will be very great, but I shouldn't spare myself. If I gave up my researches to-day it would be for the sake of the men."

"You needn't consider them that way, sir," said Captain Chubb. "They would rather you didn't. But couldn't you do something that would spare my deck a little?"

"Well, I am afraid that's impossible, Captain Chubb," said the doctor.

"Ah, well, sir," said the captain, with a sigh, "I suppose you must go on; but it seems a pity when everything's so white and clean."

So the captain's decks suffered all day, and were swabbed clean again, while that evening before the mists began to gather there was a fresh surprise.

Rodd took it into his head to go up to the main cross-trees with the glass. He had said nothing, but he had some idea as to the possibility of the sloop coming into sight again, and he had made up his mind if he could see her in the distance to give Captain Chubb a broad hint, and urge him to press on full sail right through the night.

It was very glorious, Rodd thought, as he perched himself up aloft on the cross-trees, after finding the heavy glass very much in his way as he climbed.

"It's beautiful up here; but—"

He did not finish his remark to himself, but got his left arm well round the mast, adjusted the glass, and began slowly to sweep the horizon.

He felt in a state of doubt and suspicion, fully expecting that at any moment the tapering masts of the sloop might slowly creep into the field ready to damp his hopes, for his feelings were completely on the side of the men. But as slowly and carefully he ran the glass along what seemed to be the very edge of the world, his spirits rose.

"Nothing—nothing," he kept on muttering to himself. "Oh, how big the world is, after all! Here we are, just like a speck on the ocean, quite alone, and though there must be thousands of ships and boats sailing about, not one in sight, and in about another ten minutes all will be bright starlight again—and let's see, I began here, and I've swept the sea right round, and just in time, for before I could go round again or half-way it will be quite dark—and—What's that?" he cried excitedly.

He started violently, and his hands trembled so that he had great difficulty in steadying the glass to fix it upon that which had suddenly caught his eye.

"Nothing!" he muttered impatiently. "It was my fancy. I made as sure as possible, just as I was going to lower the glass, that I could see the three masts of the sloop standing right out yonder towards the west. All rubbish and imagination," he muttered. "I pictured that because it was what I was afraid of seeing when—Oh-h-h! It wasn't fancy! There she is! Oh, there she is, after all!"

He looked sharply down at the deck, which was occupied only by four of the men, the skipper and Uncle Paul being in the cabin. But one of these men was Joe Cross, and Rodd chirruped faintly to attract's the sailor's attention.

"Make out anything, sir?"

"Come up here, Joe," replied Rodd, in a low tone, and the man sprang to the ratlines and began rapidly to ascend till he was nearly on a level with the occupant of the cross-trees.

"See a whale spouting, sir? I should have thought it was getting too dark."

"No, Joe; but I have just made out the sloop with the glass."

"Nay, sir! Don't say that!" cried the man, in a startled tone.

"Take the glass, Joe. I am afraid it's true."

"Oh, murther! as Pat says," groaned the sailor, as he hurriedly adjusted the glass and began to sweep the horizon in the direction Rodd pointed out, a few points on the starboard bow. "Can't see nothing, sir. Were you sure?"

"Yes, Joe; quite."

"But it's getting dark too fast, sir. I can make nothing out. If you are right, though, she mayn't have seen us and may be out of sight again by morning.—Ah, I've got her!"

"There, I knew I was right, Joe."

"Not quite, sir. Yes, I've got her quite plain now, but she's dying out fast. It aren't a man-of-war. It's a two-master of some kind. A big schooner or a brig. It's all right, sir. There's life in a mussel, after all. My word, though, didn't it bring my heart up into my mouth!"

"Are you sure it's not a three-master, Joe?" cried Rodd joyously.

"Sartin sure, sir. Why, you talk as frightened like as we poor lads were."

"What vessel was it, then?"

"Oh, I don't know what she was, sir. I only know what she warn't. That's enough for us, eh, sir? I say, sir; what weather! Rather different to what we had in the French port. Looks settled too. Nice and cool the air feels. There, it's only fancy, but it's just as if I could sniff the land."

"How far are we away, Joe?" asked Rodd.

"Long way, sir. But I say, Mr Rodd, sir, I wouldn't say anything down below. It'd only skeer the lads and set them thinking all night."

"But wouldn't you say anything about having seen that ship?"

"Oh, if you like, sir. The skipper ought to know. But I can swear she warn't a man-of-war, and that's enough for us. Oh, there is the skipper. My word, though, you can hardly see him! Curus, isn't it, how the mist begins to gather? Pretty good sign we are not so very far off the shore. Will you hail him, sir, or shall I?"

"You, Joe."

A brief conversation ensued, question and answer ending by Joe's declaration that he believed it was a brig; and then they descended to the deck.



CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

DREAMY.

Very curious incidents are sometimes invented, but the most extravagant can be matched by others that have really occurred.

One of the last things that had been talked about that evening had been the vessel of which Rodd had caught a glimpse in the short tropic twilight just as it was being swallowed up by the darkness and mist of night. Joe Cross had incidentally said that he believed it was a brig, and that night as Rodd lay half asleep, half wakeful, in his cot, kept from finding the customary repose of a tired lad by the heat of the narrow cabin below, the word brig brought to mind the vessel that had so nearly run upon them in Havre-de-Grace, and in a drowsy stupid way he had pictured her tall tapering spars, the flapping of her stay-sail, and the rush of the storm.

Then all was blank, till all at once it seemed as if time had elapsed and he was picturing the French brig once more, knowing that it was the Jeanne d'Arc, though all was darkness and he only caught sight of the vessel now and then, by the flashing of the fort guns, while the roar of their reports echoed loudly above the rush of the wind as the brave vessel tacked from side to side of the harbour, striving to reach the mouth and escape out to sea.

It was all very vivid as in a dream.

Flash went the fort gun, there was the roar of the report, and all was darkness, again and again, while somehow—he could not tell how it was— the heat was intense, and Rodd threw up one hand, which came in contact with the top of his cot with a sharp rap.

"Bah! It hurts," muttered the boy; and then dream and reality merged in one, for there was another flash and the roar as if of half-a-dozen guns.

But the boy was awake now to the fact that he was not dreaming of the escape of the French brig, but far south of the Equator, lying half stifled in his cot, listening to the roar of a tropic storm, while every now and then the cabin which he shared with his uncle was lit up by the vivid flashes, which were succeeded by fresh roars.

"What a storm," thought Rodd, "and how hot!"

He slipped out of his cot to go and thrust open the cabin window.

"Hear the thunder, uncle?" he said.

But it had ceased for the moment, the last peal dying softly away, and for answer to his question he had only the deep regular breathing of a sound sleeper.

"He must have been tired," thought the boy, and creeping closer to the cabin window he thrust out his hand to let in more air, but found the window wide open as it could be.

"He must have found out how hot it was and done that himself," thought Rodd, as he knelt softly upon the bulkhead to try and breathe the fresh air; but it was hot and half suffocating, while the blackness was intense. One moment there was a faint quivering somewhere above, and just enough to show him the murkiness of the sea which spread out from beneath him far away like so much blackened oil touched for a few brief instants with streaks of gold.

"Why, there isn't a breath of air," thought Rodd, and then he started back, dazzled by the brilliant glare of the lightning, which made him involuntarily close his eyes and keep them shut till the terrific crash of thunder, which seemed to burst exactly over his head, had gone rolling away as if its echoes were composed of gigantic cannon balls passing slowly down metallic tunnels right away into space.

"That was a startler," said the boy to himself. "How awful, but how grand! It's rather hard to think that the danger's in the lightning, and that there is nothing in the thunder to hurt."

Then once more all was black silence above and below, and all beyond the cabin window seemed to be solid.

"I never saw a storm like this at home," thought the boy. "Uncle can sleep!"

There was another brilliant flash, but this time Rodd felt prepared and did not shrink. He only knelt, gazing out of the stern window, impressed by the grandeur of that which he had seen.

Behind him he felt that everything in the cabin had been as light as day, but away from him all around he had looked upon a vivid picture, a gloriously wondrous cloudscape stretching far above and reflected far beneath in the smooth, oily, gently heaving sea—a grand vision of mountains of blue and gold and purple, which quivered before his eyes for a few moments in such vivid intensity that his eyeballs ached; then all was black again for a few moments, and then came the deep-toned roar as of hundreds of distant mighty cannons; not a sudden, sharp, metallic crash as in the last instance, but a deep murmurous intonation which made the woodwork of the schooner tremble.

Rodd felt no fear—nothing but a sense of awe at the grandeur of the storm, and it was with a feeling of eagerness that he waited for the next flash. But a minute passed before there was a faint quivering which slightly lit up the sea, to give place to blackness, silence and darkness. Then there was another faint quivering light that seemed to come from somewhere behind where he stood, and again he waited for one of those vivid flashes that should show up the configuration of the clouds shaped in mountain and valley and distant cave.

And many minutes must have passed, during which time Rodd listened in the appalling silence for the distant soft and increasing rushing sound of the coming rain, even as he had listened before in far-off Devon to the coming of some summer storm.

"There will be wind too," he thought. "I wonder whether all is made fast aloft; for a storm like this," he continued, in his ignorance, "can't come without a tremendous wind and a rush of rain."

His next thought was that he would go on deck and see what the watch were about; but he hesitated to stir, for the thought of the gorgeous cloudscape he had seen fascinated him and held him to his place.

"I needn't worry about that," he thought. "Captain Chubb's sure to be on deck. He wouldn't sleep like we do. If I go and open the cabin door it will wake uncle up. Hah! It's quivering again. The storm can't be over like this. Now there's another big flash coming."

He had hardly formed the thought when from quite up in the zenith down into the depths of the sea the arch of heaven seemed to open out in a sharp jagged line of vivid blue light, shutting again instantaneously, and the boy knelt gazing before him in wonder, for there, about a mile away, with every spar and yard and rope standing out black against the blue light, was the picture—the model, it seemed to him to be—of a tall-masted brig sitting motionless upon the water; and then it was gone.

"Why, that must have been the one we saw," thought Rodd, and he strained his eyes again as he listened for the roar of the thunder that should have succeeded the vivid zigzag flash of electricity; but it did not come, and he waited and waited in the darkness in vain, trying to grasp how it could be that a storm should come to an end in so strange and unsatisfactory a way according to his lights, and why there should be neither rain nor wind.

He waited, trying hard now to pierce the black darkness, but trying in vain.

There was nothing to see, nothing to hear, and in spite of the wonder and awe that had pervaded him, Rodd Harding now behaved like a very ordinary human being, for he yawned, felt sleepy and that he was not so hot as he was before, and thinking that it was no use to stop there any longer, and that he might as well dress, he crept softly back to his cot and stood thinking again.

"Can't be anything like morning," he said to himself, "and I shall be able to see that brig then. Why, I remember now; I was dreaming about the storm at Havre, and that vessel—what was it? The Jeanne d'Arc— escaping, and the forts firing at her; and I saw the flashes from the guns. Of course; how absurd! That was the thunder and lightning, and—"

Rodd slipped slowly on to his pillow, yawned again, muttered something about how sleepy he felt, and the next moment he was off as soundly as his uncle; but only, it seemed to him, to begin dreaming directly after about the escaping of the brig, and the storm, mingled with the noise and the shouting of people ashore, and a heavy bump from somewhere close at hand; and then the boy was wide awake again, springing up so suddenly in his cot that it was not his hand but his head that struck with a rap against the woodwork, as a voice that he hardly recognised in the confusion shouted—

"Rodd, boy! Quick—on deck! The schooner's going down!"



CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

STRANGE PROCEEDINGS.

"Is it a wreck, uncle?" panted Rodd.

"I thought so, boy," cried Uncle Paul; "but don't talk. Slip on two or three things."

He was still speaking, when there was a rush down the cabin stairs, and the captain shouted—

"Quick, doctor! Your pistols and a gun! We are attacked!"

The words thrilled through Rodd, and the next minute he had seized a double gun and was ready to follow his uncle and the skipper on deck, where in the faint light of morning he found nearly the whole of the crew gathered across the after part of the deck, armed with capstan bars for the moment, while the mate and Joe Cross were rapidly handing round cutlasses and pikes. The forward part of the schooner was in the hands of strangers, all well-armed; others were climbing over the bows from a boat which was made fast alongside, while hurried orders were being given to them in French by a tall, dark, grey-haired man, sword in one hand, pistol in the other.

"What's the meaning of this?" panted Uncle Paul to the skipper, while Rodd felt as if he were not yet awake, and suddenly recalled the fact that he had armed himself with a perfectly useless weapon, for in his excitement he had forgotten powder flask and bullets, having instead of the latter brought a belt containing small shot.

"Pirates or privateers, sir," replied the skipper hotly, "but just give us time. Be smart, my lads. Pikes and cutlasses, and then all together with a will!"

"For heaven's sake let's have no bloodshed, Captain Chubb!" cried Uncle Paul, catching the skipper by the arm.

"Not my wish, sir," said the captain shortly; "but this is my schooner while I command her, and I'm going to clear this deck."

"Ay, ay, sir!" came in a low, eager murmur from the men.

"There, sir," said the skipper; "you and the lad stand back. Ready, my lads?"

"No, no!" cried Uncle Paul, who saw that the strangers forward, all as well-armed as the schooner's crew, were eagerly waiting for the order to advance from their leader, each party being ready to be let slip for what might prove to be a desperate encounter.

Rodd grasped this, and then felt puzzled as he saw a youth of about his own age suddenly elbow his way to the front to stand beside the leader.

Suddenly awakened as he had been from sleep, Rodd felt more confused than ever, for the sight of the youth, who from his dress seemed to be the second officer, added to his confusion, though for the moment he could hardly tell why.

And this just as Uncle Paul was grasping the skipper's arm and saying—

"Don't be hasty. These cannot be pirates. There must be some mistake."

"Maybe, sir, but these fellows who have boarded us have made it. Now, sir, once more, stand back and let us clear the deck. They can talk when they are back in their boats."

There was a few moments' silence, each side seeming unwilling to begin, and taking advantage of an apparent hesitancy on the part of the strange leader, Uncle Paul instead of stepping back raised his hand and advanced, Rodd springing to his side, while their movement was exactly followed by the chief intruder and the youth who stepped to his side.

"Now, sir," cried Uncle Paul firmly, in French.

"I understand English," was the reply.

"I am very glad," said Uncle Paul. "Now, sir, you see that we are well-armed and prepared. What is the meaning of this attack?"

"Ah, I am glad, sir," said the stranger courteously. "Pray keep your men back, and I will mine."

"Tell them to clear off the deck, then, doctor. There must be no talk here."

"Be silent, Captain Chubb!" cried Uncle Paul sternly. "We must have no bloodshed."

"No, sir," cried his opponent quickly, and in very excellent English. "We are no pirates. I am the captain of that brig, and in urgent need of help."

"And this is a very strange way of asking for it, sir."

"Yes, yes, I know, my friend," cried the other hotly, "but it was forced upon me by circumstances. I have need of your vessel, and I must have it at all costs—peacefully if you will, and I am ready to recompense you, the owner, for any loss of cargo at your destination which you may incur; but I must have the use of this little ship."

"Indeed, sir!" said Uncle Paul, with a peculiar smile. "And if I say you cannot have it; what then?"

"Then, sir," said the stranger haughtily, "you see we are prepared. I shall be compelled to take it from you by force."

"Ah-h-h!" came like a low growl of satisfaction from the schooner's crew, and Rodd was conscious of a rather ominous movement on the part of the men, who began moistening their hands and taking a firmer grip of their weapons.

Rodd was drinking in this colloquy, which filled him with wild excitement; but all the time he kept glancing from the young officer who stood sword in hand to the brig he had seen over-night and again thrown up by the storm, still lying about the same distance away from the schooner, and then with his head suddenly seeming to become clearer he cried out aloud—

"Uncle, those are the officers we saw at Havre, and that's the brig that escaped."

"You—you were at Havre!" cried the elder officer excitedly; and he stepped closer to Rodd, his young companion, watchful and on the alert, following his example and keeping close as if to defend him from any attempted seizure.

"Yes, yes, of course," cried Rodd, without looking at the speaker, his eyes being fixed upon the young man.

"Then this is a French vessel?" cried the officer.

"No, sir," replied Uncle Paul. "It is my schooner, and I am not in pursuit of your brig."

"Why, it is!" cried Rodd suddenly, as he dropped the butt of his unloaded gun with a thud upon the deck. "I thought I knew you again!— Uncle, this is the young French prisoner I helped to escape from Dartmoor."

Before he could say another word the sword the young Frenchman held dropped from his hand to the extent of its gold-laced knot, and to Rodd's confusion a pair of thin arms were flung about his neck and he was held tightly to the young stranger's breast.

"Oh, mon ami! mon ami! My dear friend!" he cried. "Do we meet once more like this? Mon pere, c'est le jeune Anglais qui nous a sauves dans cet affreux temps."

"Moray!" cried the officer, looking stunned. "Is this true?"

"True? Oh yes! Oh yes!" cried the lad, speaking now in English. "You, young angler, fisherman, this is my dear father."

To Rodd's false shame and confusion, he had to submit to another embrace, for before he could realise what was about to happen the officer had followed his son's example and not only embraced him, but kissed him on both cheeks.

"Well, this is a queer set out," said Uncle Paul. "Then you are the two fellows who broke into my bedroom and helped yourselves to my purse?"

"Ha, ha! Yes, my friend," cried the officer, laughing; "but you and your brave son will forgive. We were poor exiles and prisoners fighting for our liberty, and you will let us make amends."

"Oh, well, you did," said Uncle Paul bluffly; "but that is no excuse for turning pirates and trying to rob me of my ship at the point of the sword."

"No, no," cried the officer hastily, "but you are a brave Englishman, and you and your son—"

"No, sir, my nephew."

"—will forgive. One moment; let me think!" cried the officer, as he dragged his hand from out of his sword-knot and thrust the blade into its sheath. "Yes, yes, let me think. I have it, Morny," and turning to his followers he uttered a short sharp command which resulted in his men swinging themselves over the side and entering the two boats in which they had effected the surprise of the schooner.

At their first movement in retreat the skipper's crew burst into a loud jeering laugh, and made as if to rush forward; but at a word from Captain Chubb they were silenced and held back.

"I thank you, sir," said the French officer, raising his hat to the skipper. "It was well done. Now let me speak; let me explain," and he looked from Rodd to his uncle and back, and then gave a glance at the skipper, while the two lads stood hand in hand.

"It was like this," he said; "you saw us at Havre that stormy day, and of course my brig nearly crushed into your vessel. Then we lay at anchor close together till that order came down from a vile insensate Government to seize upon my vessel and my crew. It was the work of enemies, and I had to set sail at once, or once more my son and I would have had to pass years in the inside of a prison, not as culprits, monsieur, but as honourable gentlemen, French nobles, whose only crime was fidelity to one,"—and as he spoke he stopped short, uttering the word one with grave reverence, as he took off his hat—an example followed by his son. "Well, gentlemen, I cannot explain to you. There is not time. Only this—you saw that I made what you English call a dash for it—for freedom. It was like madness, but we said we would rather trust the storm than the French Government. They sent boats full of soldiers to seize us, but we kept on. They opened fire upon us from the forts, but we did not shrink."

"Yes, yes, we saw all," cried Uncle Paul, "and a very brave dash you made."

Captain Chubb, who had listened, frowning heavily the while, uttered a low grunt.

"And a very fine bit of seamanship, sir," he said, and the officer turned to him and raised his hat.

"It was desperate, sir," he said gravely, "and I knew that I was risking the lives of my dear son and all on board; but no man there shrank. Well, sir, my story is long, but I must excuse myself for my conduct here. It is enough. We battled with the storm, as you saw, and escaped."

"I always said you had gone down," grunted Captain Chubb.

"No, sir. We escaped with but one wound, and that was to my poor vessel; and since the night when we left Havre-de-Grace upon my mission it has been one long struggle, as you would say, for life."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Yes," said the officer sadly, and he pointed over the side towards where the beautiful duck-like brig with its taper spars sat the smooth sea, but with a steady stream of water trickling down her side. "My chief officer and my men have worked in every way they knew long days and weeks; but it is of no use. I would not give up the great object upon which I have come, but it is forced upon us at last that before many days have gone over our heads that vessel will lie far down in the depths of the ocean. Do you not see how low she is in the water?"

"Eh?" cried the skipper eagerly. "Eh? I thought she was low down with cargo. You've sprung a leak?"

"A cannon ball crashed through her, sir, and we have never been able to master that leak."

"Then why in the name of thunder didn't you put into port?" cried the skipper contemptuously.

The officer smiled.

"I cannot explain," he said. "There was not time. I had work to do—a task that I had promised to fulfil, and we held on till it was forced upon me that I must get another vessel or stand with my men upon the deck and let our brave Roi Dagobert sink beneath our feet."

"That wasn't her name at Havre," said the downright skipper.

"No, sir," said the officer, smiling; "but were we not pursued? Would not news of our escape be sent far and wide? We were obliged to assume another disguise. The Jeanne d'Arc, we said, sank at Havre. That is the Roi Dagobert floating still; but for how long?"

"I don't quite see that," said the skipper bluntly.

"No?" said the officer. "Monsieur has never passed long years as a prisoner of war."

"Well, no," grunted the skipper. "Maybe that might have made me a bit shifty."

"There, sir," said the officer, turning now to Uncle Paul; "that is my excuse for this desperate venture—this attempt to seize your vessel. My business is urgent. I am a nobleman, a count of the French Empire, and I offer you any recompense you like to name if you will give up to me your vessel, leaving me full command for a week—a month—such time as I may need."

"And if I say, sir, that I cannot accede to what you must own are wild demands," said Uncle Paul, "what then?"

"What then?" said the officer slowly.

"You mean that you will attack us, and the strongest wins?"

The officer was silent, and he turned his eyes upon his son, who left Rodd and took his extended hands, both standing silent for a few moments.

"No, sir," he said at last, slowly and gravely. "Neither my son nor I can raise our hands against those who gave us liberty, almost life. Morny, my boy, we will do our duty to the last, and try to keep the poor Roi Dagobert afloat. She may live long enough, even as she has kept afloat so long. If she sinks with us—well, my boy, we shall have done our duty to him we serve, and our names may not be forgotten in our country's rolls."

There was silence for a few moments, which was broken at last by Rodd.

"But I say, uncle," he cried eagerly, "you always said you had plenty of time, and—"

The young officer turned quickly upon the speaker with an eager questioning look, but before Uncle Paul could speak, Captain Chubb took off his cap and stood scratching his head in the now bright morning sunshine.

"Look here, Mr Count," he said; "I am only a rough Englishman, and a lot of what you have been saying about mission and that sort of thing is just so much Greek to me. But do you mean to tell me that you got a ball through the bottom of your smart brig that night in Havre, and have never been able to stop the leak?"

"Yes, yes; that is so, my friend. My chief officer has tried everything that he could do, but we could not get at the place. And look yonder! The pump has been kept going ever since."

"Well, sir," continued Captain Chubb, "I don't know your first mate, and I don't want to say hard things of a man who could take that there smart craft out of the French harbour as he did that night. He is a very fine sailor, sir. But if I aren't got a carpenter on board this schooner as would give him ninety out of a hundred and then beat him, without bringing to work the little bit I knows myself, why, I'm a Dutchman, and that I aren't."

"Ah!" cried the Count excitedly. "You think—"

"No, sir; I don't say I think anything without having a look. But as there don't seem to be any fighting going on, and you and the doctor here turns out to be old friends, why, before you talk of throwing up your job and taking to your boats—which would be a much more sensible thing to do than going down with colours flying when there warn't no need, and setting aside getting some fresh water and provisions into your boats and making for a place on the West Afric coast—I should just like to come on board your craft with my man and see what mightn't be done by stopping that there leak."

"My friend!" cried the Count excitedly, and he caught the skipper by the hands.

"Well, sir," said the skipper, with a grim smile, "if you are Mr Rodd's and the doctor's friend and wants to be friends with me, why, Tom Chubb aren't the man to say no and want to keep enemies. So there's my fin. But look 'ere, you know," he continued, as he gave the Count's thin white hand a tremendous grip, "yours was a very queer way of coming upon us, and might have meant some nasty marks on my white decks. You can't help being a Frenchman, but do you know what an Englishman would have done? He'd have just come here civil like and said, 'Look here, strangers, we have sprung a leak, and we are going down. Come and lend us a hand at the pumps.'"

"Ah, yes, of course," said the Count warmly. "It is what I should have done."

"And you would like me to come aboard and see if there's anything we can do?"

"Yes, yes!" cried the Count eagerly.

"All right, then, sir," said the skipper coolly; "I am sailing under the doctor's orders, and if he's willing, I'm your man."



CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

A SHIP SURGEON.

"Well, Mr Rodd, sir," said Captain Chubb, as he and the lad stood watching the regular dip of oars in the brig's two boats as they glided back over the tranquil sea to where their vessel lay motionless in the calm. "Well, Mr Rodd, sir, don't you wish you'd been born a Frenchman?"

"No," cried the boy sharply. "I am thankful I was born English."

"And so you ought to be, my lad. Of all the crackbrained, sentimental, outrageous chaps I ever met there's none of them comes up to a Frenchman."

"Oh, you are too bad, Captain Chubb."

"Too bad, eh? Why, aren't they always kicking up a dust and making revolutions, cutting off their kings' and queens' heads, and then going to war with all the world, with their Napoleons and Bonapartes and all the rest of them? Call themselves men!"

"Why, you are as bad as uncle," cried Rodd merrily. "You and he ought to be always the best of friends. But, if you speak fairly you must own that they are very gallant men."

"Gallant men!" cried the skipper scornfully. "I don't call them men. I call them monkeys! Men! Butchers, as cut off the head of their beautiful Queen Mary What-you-may-call-it, and then after shedding blood like that, sending no end of poor women who never did them a bit of harm to that guillotine. I'd be ashamed of myself, Mr Rodd, to take their part."

"Oh, nonsense!" cried Rodd warmly. "I say that the Count and his son have proved themselves to be very brave fellows. Why, you owned as much yourself about the way in which they escaped with the brig."

"Oh, that was right enough," grumbled the skipper.

"I am not going to deny," continued Rodd, "that there are plenty of horrible wretches amongst the French. And that Revolution was awful; but haven't we plenty of bad men amongst the English?"

The skipper chuckled.

"Well, yes, we have had some pretty tidy ones, if you come to read your histories. But I don't know so much about those chaps being brave. It was a very clever bit of seamanship, mind you, that taking the brig out in the teeth of the storm with hardly room to tack. I am not a bad pilot in my way when I like to try, but I will be honest over it; I daren't have tried that job. It was a very clean thing. But look here, my lad. It's no use for you to try and crack that up, because him who did it must have been as mad as a hatter, and between ourselves, that's what I think that Count is."

"Oh, fudge, captain!" cried Rodd. "No more mad than you or I."

"Well, I can answer for myself, my lad," said the skipper, with a chuckle, "but that's more than I'd do for you, for you do some precious outrageous things sometimes."

"I?" cried Rodd.

"Yes, you, my lad."

"What a shame!" cried Rodd indignantly. "I defy you to prove that I have done anything that you could call mad. Now tell me something. What have you ever known me do that wasn't sensible?"

"Oh, that's soon done," cried the skipper. "Didn't you go and gammon the soldiers when they were after the escaped French prisoners? Don't you call that a mad act? Fighting against the laws of your country like that!"

"Ah, well, I suppose I oughtn't to have helped them, captain; but I couldn't help it."

"No, sir, and that's what the Frenchmen would say. Now, what in the world is that chap after, with his mission, as he calls it? What does he mean by coming rampaging out south with a hole in the bottom of his brig and the pumps going straight on to keep the water down? Would any one but a lunatic go risking his crew and his vessel like that?"

"Well, it does seem rather wild," replied Rodd thoughtfully.

"Wild? Well, that's only your way of saying he's stick, stark, staring mad. And here he's been out weeks and weeks, knowing as he says that his brig was sinking, when he could have put in at Gib, or the Azores, or Las Palmas, or brought up in one of the West Coast rivers, where he could run up on the tidal mud, careened his vessel, and set his ship's carpenter to work to clap patches upon her bottom outside and in. Don't you call that mad?"