The officers had gone aft, and Dick could not hear what was said. In a short time, however, he knew that the cutter was moving by the rippling against her side.

Presently she heeled over slightly, showing that the breeze was freshening, and he heard the order to set the squaresail and square-topsail. There was little doubt, then, that the commander was following the advice given by Mr Voules, making the best of his way to the westward. He would do that under ordinary circumstances. It was still uncertain whether the lugger which had brought up the breeze was a friend or an enemy.

He had heard the order to hoist the ensign, and some time afterwards a voice called out, "That's a French craft, I'll take my davy, though we can't see her colours."

Again some time elapsed, when a gun was heard, but the sound was so faint that Dick thought the vessel which fired it must be at a great distance. Presently Mr Mason came down into the hold.

"Lads," he said, looking round, "you are all Englishmen, though you are pressed against your will to serve his Majesty. I put it to you, whether—as I think it likely we are somewhat over-matched—you'll fight to preserve this vessel and to save yourself being carried to a French prison. I have come down to give you your liberty, as I am sure that you will all make the same answer, and if cutlasses are put into your hands, that you'll fight as bravely as any men on board. We shall then, I have no fear, lick the lugger, and carry her as a prize into Plymouth harbour."

A hearty cheer was given. "We'll thrash the mounseers; no fear about that," answered the men; Dick joining as warmly as any one.

The men's handcuffs were soon taken off. Dick, on finding himself free, sprang to his feet and grasped the cutlass which was put into his hands. On reaching the deck he found the cutter was prepared for action. Two of the guns were trained aft, boarding-pikes were placed along the bulwarks. An arm-chest stood open, containing pistols, hand-grenades, swords, and cutlasses, while a number of muskets lay on the companion hatch.

The two midshipmen, with pistols in their belts and cutlasses at their sides, stood watching the lugger, which under press of sail was coming up astern. She was evidently a much faster craft than the cutter, though the latter was a stout vessel of her class. The lugger now began to fire her long gun; the shot, though failing to strike, pitched sometimes on one side, sometimes on the other side of the cutter.

"Why don't we try and knock away some of her spars?" observed Lord Reginald.

"Little use firing our pop-guns," answered the commander; "our shot won't reach her as yet."

Presently the long gun sent its missile through the cutter's squaresail. Another shortly afterwards made a second hole, but did no other damage.

"Those fellows know how to handle their gun. We shall see how they behave when we get them within range of ours. Stand by, Beal, to give it them," he said to the gunner, who had brought a match from the galley fire.

The guns were fired almost simultaneously. What effect their shot produced could not be seen, though Beal declared that one, if not both, struck the lugger. They did not, however, stop her way. She fired her long gun in return. It was well aimed, for down came the squaresail, the halliards shot away. The lugger's crew were heard cheering.

"Shout away, my fine fellows!" cried Beal; "we'll make you sing a different note if you come alongside."

Hands were instantly ordered to repair the damage. It took some time, however, to bend fresh halliards and hoist up the yard. During the interval, the lugger had gained considerably on the cutter, but this enabled the latter to fire her stern chasers with more effect. The men worked vigorously, loading and firing almost as fast as the lugger's crew did their long gun. Still, with short guns the aim was uncertain, and of the many shots fired, comparatively few did any damage to the enemy. Mr Mason's object was to get to the other side of The Start, when probably the firing might attract the attention of some man-of-war near the mouth of Plymouth harbour, which might come out to the rescue. He was determined, however, to fight to the last, rather than yield his vessel. The Frenchman's object was evidently to knock away some of the cutter's spars, to get alongside as soon as possible, trusting to obtain the victory by boarding her, well aware of the small crew she was likely to carry; probably, also, supposing that she conveying specie or valuable stores to Plymouth, as was frequently done, instead of sending them by land. Most of the damage inflicted on the cutter was therefore aloft. Her sails already showed many holes. Her starboard backstay had been shot away, her topmast was wounded, though it still stood. Mr Mason now made preparations for what he saw was inevitable.

"When the cutter boards, my lads, remember we must not only drive back the boarders, but follow them into their own vessel and take her. Even if we wished it, should we lose any of our spars, we could not get away from her. It is pretty certain that her guns are heavier than ours. Lord Reginald, I'll get you to stand by the helm with half a dozen hands to manage the cutter in case we are separated, and all the rest of you will board with me. Lads, I'll depend upon you to carry that craft. I know what privateersmen are like, when they see cold steel in their faces. They'll come on boldly enough at first, but when once beaten back, they'll turn tail like hounds, and skulk for shelter below."

The cheers which rose from the throats of the crew, joined in heartily by Dick and the rest of the pressed men, gave promise of victory, in spite of the odds which might be against them. The firing was continued by both vessels as fast as the guns could be loaded, the lugger gradually gaining on the chase.

The lieutenant ordered as many hands as were required, to drag over the two stern guns to the side on which the lugger might come up; while the other two were loaded with musket-balls ready to fire into her.

At length, a shot aimed high by the lugger struck the cutter's topmast. The spar held on for a minute, but a stronger puff of wind filling the sail, with a loud crash it gave way, and down came the gaff-topsail and square-topsail. The mainsail and squaresail still, however, stood. The lugger now came up hand over hand. The two stern chasers were once more fired. The lugger was steering for the cutter's starboard quarter. In a few minutes the guns were dragged over to the starboard side and run through the two after ports, while the other remaining gun was hauled up with equal rapidity to the same side.

"Lower away the squaresail; down with the helm. Now fire, lads!"

Four guns were simultaneously discharged, raking the lugger fore and aft. The next instant the helm was again put up, or the lugger would have run into her stem on. Instead of this, striking on the counter, she ranged up alongside. A large body of men were seen grouped on the forecastle armed with pikes and cutlasses. The moment the sides of the two vessels touched, with loud shouts, led by one of their officers, they leaped on board, many to meet their doom, for before they reached the deck they were cut down by the stalwart arms of the British seamen. Others followed, but, met with a bristling array of pikes and cutlasses in their faces, they dared not spring from their own bulwarks. The men aft, under the command of Lord Reginald, had been keeping up a warm fire of musketry, when the lieutenant, turning his head, saw a party of the enemy kept in reserve, about to board the cutter aft. He instantly sprang towards the threatened point, followed by several who had gallantly been keeping the first party of boarders in check. Among them was Dick Hargrave and several of his companions. Leading the French boarders was a big fellow with huge bushy whiskers, and a red handkerchief tied round his head. With a sword of a size which few men could have wielded, he made a desperate slash at the lieutenant, which would have brought him to the deck, had not Dick sprang forward and, interposing his cutlass, dealt the next instant such a blow on the sword arm of the giant, that the fellow's weapon dropped from his hand.

"Thank you, my good fellow, I saw what you did," said the lieutenant. "Now lads, we will drive these Frenchmen below, as we promised them. All of you follow me!" and, led by the lieutenant and Dick, the English crew threw themselves on the lugger's deck, trusting rather to their cutlasses and stout arms than to any other weapons.

Voules, with those who had remained on the cutter's forecastle, now gained a footing on the fore part of the lugger's deck. Her crew fought bravely, but besides their big officer, many of them were cut down. Inch by inch the lieutenant and his men made their way forward, until the quarter-deck was cleared, the Frenchmen being either killed or wounded, or driven down the main-hatchway or overboard. One of their officers alone remained alive, and, seeing that all hope of gaining the victory was lost, he shouted out "We surrender!" Dick, who knew the meaning of the cry, repeated it in English, and running aft to the peak halliards, quickly hauled down the Frenchman's ensign.

"Well done, my lad!" cried Lieutenant Mason. "I'll not forget you."

The Frenchmen, who had hitherto kept their cutlasses in their hands, threw them on the deck, asking for quarter for themselves and their companions below. Their officer, coming aft, surrendered his sword. Those below now being called up one by one, were transferred to the cutter's hold, and Mr Voules, with eight men, including Dick Hargrave, was sent on board the lugger to navigate her into Plymouth.

"You will keep close to me, Mr Voules," said Lieutenant Mason, "for I have as many prisoners on board as I can well manage, and should they be disposed to rise upon us they might succeed if we don't keep a bright look-out."

The French privateersmen were indeed a very rough-looking set of fellows. By the way they had fought they showed that they were capable of daring and doing any act of violence. Although nearly twenty had been killed or wounded, they still far outnumbered the cutter's crew, now reduced by three killed and five wounded, as well as by those sent on board the lugger.

The two vessels were soon separated, though they kept as close as they could together. Voules and his men had enough to do, heaving the dead overboard and attending to the wounded, while they had to wash down the bloodstained decks. Some of the rigging, too, required knotting and splicing, and several shot-holes had to be plugged in the vessel's side. It was the first command Voules had ever enjoyed, and he walked the deck with his spyglass under his arm, issuing his orders in an authoritative tone. At last his eye fell upon Dick, who was engaged in some work which it appeared he was not doing according to the midshipman's notion of the way it ought to be done.

"What are you about there, you lubberly hound?" he shouted out, springing up to him with a rope's end. Dick leaped out of his way, and the uplifted rope fell on the back of another man, who turned round with a look of no little astonishment.

"I beg pardon, sir, but you hit somewhat hard," said the man. "I'll splice this here rope for the lad, for if he's not quite up to it, he knows how to use his cutlass, at any rate. If it hadn't been for him, our commander would be among those poor fellows who have lost the number of their mess in this here fight."

"Belay the slack of your jaw, fellow!" exclaimed Voules, turning away.

The man thrust his tongue into his cheek as he caught the eye of another seaman standing near him.

Dick kept out of the midshipman's way as much as he could, though he continued actively engaged as before. His spirits rose with the feeling that he was at liberty, and that he had gained Lieutenant Mason's good opinion. "I wish that I had been allowed to remain on board the cutter. I could serve under her commander, and do my duty. But when I get on board the frigate, all will be changed, I fear," he said to himself; "however, I must not think about that. I must do my duty as well as I can now, and maybe he'll speak a word for me, though I have little to expect from such fellows as Mr Voules and his friend."

The breeze continued, The Start was passed, the Eddystone light came in sight. No one on board the vessels turned in. The whole crew on board the lugger could only just manage her sails, while that of the cutter were required to keep a watch on the prisoners. The two vessels kept close together, Voules every now and then hailing the cutter, to learn if all was right on board her. The lugger had twice to shorten sail, or she would have run ahead. Dick, as he walked forward, kept his eye on the cutter. The idea had come into his head that the Frenchmen might rise on their captors. He had formed a higher estimate of their courage than had most of his shipmates. The lugger was now about twenty fathoms off on the cutter's quarter. Voules, who had become very hungry, telling the man at the helm to keep the vessel as she was going, dived below, in the hopes of finding something to eat. Two or three of the men, following his example, had gone below, with the same object in view. Dick, who was standing on the lugger's forecastle, with his eye turned towards the cutter, suddenly saw a flash, though there was no report. This was immediately followed by shouts and oaths.

"Starboard!" he cried out to the man at the helm; "there's something going wrong on board the cutter."

The lugger was just then feeling the breeze, and forging ahead. This brought her bows close to the cutter's side. Dick could see that a struggle was going on around the main hatchway, up which a number of figures were forcing themselves. His cries brought the lugger's men forward. To lash the two vessels together was the work of a moment, and then he, with five of his shipmates, leaped down on the cutter's deck. Their arrival turned the scales in favour of the crew, who, surprised by a sudden uprising of the French prisoners, were struggling hard to keep them down, several having incautiously unbuckled their cutlasses while engaged in repairing the rigging. Lieutenant Mason and Lord Reginald were aft, at supper. So sudden and silent had been the rising, that they had only just before reached the scene of action when the lugger ran alongside. "Thank you, Voules; you came in the nick of time," cried Lieutenant Mason, when the Frenchmen were forced below.

Voules made no reply. He had been busily engaged in the lugger's cabin, and was not aware of what had taken place until all was over.

"It was this here lad, sir, who did it," exclaimed the seaman who had received the blow aimed at Dick's shoulders; "he see'd what was happening. If it hadn't been for him, no one else would have found it out."

"Thank you, Richard Hargrave; that is the second time to-day you have rendered me good service," said Lieutenant Mason.

"Richard Hargrave!" said Lord Reginald; "he is the last person I should have thought likely to do anything worthy of praise."

"Depend upon it, your lordship will find there is something in that lad, if he has the opportunity of proving it," observed Lieutenant Mason.

No lives had been lost in the outbreak. Order was quickly restored, the lashings cast off, and the lugger's crew returning to her, the two vessels pursued their course as before. The Frenchmen now saw that all hope of escape was gone, and quietly submitted to their fate.

The night was sufficiently light to enable the cutter and her prize to make their way up Plymouth harbour. Before the day broke they were both safe at anchor in Hamoze, close to where the Wolf lay.

Soon after sunrise Lieutenant Mason, with the two midshipmen he had brought for the frigate, went alongside her. Captain Moubray, who was on board, at once desired to see him. Having given an account of the capture of the lugger and described the good conduct of the pressed men, and especially mentioned Richard Hargrave, he added, "He saved my life, sir, in boarding the lugger, and afterwards, when the Frenchmen were on the point of breaking out of the hold, he brought the lugger alongside just in time to enable us to drive them below without bloodshed. He had, I understand, deserted from the frigate, but as he was in the first instance pressed, I trust that you will pardon him, and judge rather by the way he has lately behaved than his past conduct."

"I'll take the account you give into consideration, Mr Mason," answered the captain. "To prevent desertion, it is absolutely necessary to punish those who are retaken; but I should be very unwilling to do so in this instance. I will see this Richard Hargrave, and if I can overlook his offence without injury to the discipline of the ship, I will gladly do so."

With this promise, Lieutenant Mason was obliged to remain satisfied. It was all he could do to show his gratitude to Dick for saving his life. He had, however, several duties to perform—to get rid of his prisoners, and to hand the lugger over to the prize agents. On paying his respects to the admiral, he received many compliments on his gallantry, and a promise that his conduct would be duly reported. He then mentioned Dick Hargrave's conduct. "Very praiseworthy," observed the admiral. "I am glad you have spoken of him to Captain Moubray, who will doubtless see that he is rewarded, and keep an eye on him in future."

Dick, soon after he got on board, fell in with Ben Rudall. Ben looked very downcast.

"Sorry to see you back, Dick," he said. "What has happened? Did you manage to get home and see my old woman, and give her the money? or did they catch you afore, and take it from you?"

Dick briefly explained all that had happened, and gave an account of the action with the lugger, and how the lieutenant had spoken of him.

"That's good luck for you. It may save you from what I got. I thought I was safe off, but I was brought back, and had a taste of the cat in consequence."

Dick received a very different greeting from what he had expected. The news of his behaviour had spread from mouth to mouth, and he was looked upon by his messmates in a far better light than formerly. Seamen are always ready to acknowledge merit, and his attempt to desert was overlooked, especially when it was known among the men that he had been put up to it by Ben Rudall. He was naturally somewhat nervous as to how he might be treated by the captain, not being aware that Lieutenant Mason had spoken in his favour, for he had no hope that Lord Reginald or Voules would have mentioned his conduct on board the cutter.

At length his name was called along the decks. He hurried aft. The master-at-arms, who had been looking for him, told him that he was wanted on the quarterdeck. He screwed up his courage to brave the worst. He found the captain and first lieutenant standing aft, as he approached, hat in hand.

"Richard Hargrave, you entered some time back on board this ship, and deserted. You made no attempt to return of your own accord, and were retaken. You know the punishment, and discipline requires that it should be inflicted," said the captain in a stern voice.

"I was pressed against my will, sir; and I did my duty in the action with the French frigate which we took. But I wanted to see my mother and blind sister, and I ran, and can't deny it. Now I've been brought back, I'll try to do my duty. That's what I've got to say, sir."

"Have you nothing more to say?" asked the captain.

"Yes. When I was set free, I did duty on board the cutter, and helped to take the French lugger. The commander says I saved his life; and afterwards, when I was on board the prize, it was through me that the lugger was brought alongside the cutter, and the Frenchmen, who were rising on her crew, were overpowered."

"You acted well, then, on both occasions?" said the captain.

"Yes; I did what I thought was my duty," answered Dick.

"Still, you do not deny that you deserted, and had no intention of returning?" observed Captain Moubray.

"I cannot deny it, sir," said Dick.

"You know that desertion is always punished by flogging?" said the captain.

"Yes," answered Dick; "if it were not for the disgrace I shouldn't mind it."

"It is a greater disgrace to desert your ship," said the captain; "but discipline must be maintained, although, considering your gallant conduct on board the cutter, I would gladly overlook your crime."

Just as Dick was expecting to hear his sentence pronounced, he was conscious that some one, who had come up, was standing by his side, and glancing round, he saw Ben Rudall.

"Beg pardon, Captain Moubray, for speaking, but I makes bold in this here case to come for'ard, as I knows more about the desertion of this lad than any one else," said Ben, giving a pull at his hair. "I put him up to it, as I had been the cause of his being taken, and as I knowed that he is the only son of his father and mother, they would be main glad to have him back again; and I had made up my mind to go too, as I have a wife and children at home waiting for me, but I was taken and brought back."

"Then you merit the punishment more than he does," said the captain.

"That's just it, sir; and I axes the favour of being flogged instead of him. My hide is tough, and can bear it; but his is young and tender, and ain't been accustomed to hard blows."

The captain looked greatly puzzled. He was struck by Ben's magnanimity, if so it could be called, in being ready to sacrifice himself, and was therefore unwilling to punish him; yet the crime of inciting another to desert was greater even than the act of desertion, and he felt, as the man had acknowledged it, that he ought to be punished as a warning to others.

The first lieutenant relieved him of his dilemma by observing that, "That man has already been flogged for attempting to desert, and I may venture to think that it would not do to punish him again for the same crime."

"You are right, Mr Curling. The discipline of the ship will not suffer, should I overlook this lad's offence in consideration of the gallantry he has displayed."

"I feel sure of it, sir. It would do more harm to punish than to pardon him."

"Go forward, my man," said the captain, addressing Rudall. "I have heard what you say about this lad, and let it be known among the men, that although he is let off this time, I will not again pardon any attempt at desertion, whatever may be the excuse offered."

Ben, pulling a lock of his hair, obeyed the captain's orders, and went forward, exhibiting very little trace of the lawless, vaunting smuggler he had appeared to Dick on board the Nancy.

"And now, Richard Hargrave," said the captain, addressing Dick, "you made a bad commencement by committing a grave crime, but you have shown that you are capable of performing your duty well and gallantly. Your late conduct atones in a great measure for your previous behaviour; and as you know what your duty is, I would urge you to perform it, in spite of the bad example or advice of such associates as may try to lead you into evil. Remember that the eyes of the officers will be upon you, and I shall be glad to hear a favourable report of your conduct."

Dick, grateful to the captain for pardoning him, and especially for the last encouraging words which he had spoken, could with difficulty refrain from bursting into tears. His breast heaved, a choking sensation came into his throat, and he was unable to utter a word beyond "Thank you, sir; thank you, sir;" and making the usual salute, he turned round and hurried below.



CHAPTER TEN.

AN EAST INDIAN CONVOY—TOADY VOULES TURNS NURSE—FAIR RUN TO THE CAPE— FEAR OF PRIVATEERS—CARELESSNESS—A STRANGE SIGNAL—MIDNIGHT ATTACK— TIMELY ASSISTANCE—TREACHERY—LORD REGINALD IN COMMAND OF THE PRIZE— TREATMENT OF THE MARIA'S CREW—DISCONTENT—A STERN CHASE IS A LONG CHASE—OBSTINACY OF THE YOUNG LORD—VOULES'S ADVICE NEGLECTED—A CALM— BURSTING OF THE HURRICANE—WRECK OF THE PRIVATEER—WASHED ASHORE.

A few days after Lord Reginald Oswald and Richard Hargrave returned on board the Wolf, she went out of harbour and came to an anchor in Cawsand Bay, where she, with another frigate, surrounded by a fleet of merchantmen which they were to convoy to the East Indies, lay waiting for a fair wind.

Dick had never seen so many ships together. To his eyes they presented a grand sight, as with colours flying and sails loosened from the yards, they were prepared to obey the signal for getting under way. He felt proud of belonging to one of the ships which had charge of so many fine vessels, many of them capable, it seemed to him, of coping with even the enemy's men-of-war. The wind suddenly came round to the northward. The Wolf fired the signal gun, the anchor was hove up, her canvas was let fall and sheeted home, and she glided out of the Sound, followed in rapid succession by the merchant vessels; the Ione, the other frigate, bringing up the rear and acting as whipper-in to the fleet, which, as they spread out on their course down the British Channel, with their snowy canvas extended below and aloft, seemed increased in number. The signal midshipmen had work enough to do in watching the merchant vessels, and in hoisting and hauling down the bunting as the requisite signals were made, while both frigates were continually firing their guns to hasten on the laggards, or to make the faster sailing ships shorten sail.

Rapid voyages were not expected to be made in those days, for the more nimble-heeled had to wait for the slower-sailing craft, while the men-of-war had to keep the whole of the vessels under their charge in sight, and as close together as circumstances would allow.

The midshipmen had assembled for dinner in their berth on the day the fleet sailed, with the exception of those on duty.

"Faith, Ludlam! I thought you'd have been our new third, rather than Oswald, who hasn't been in the service half as long as you have, and isn't as good a seaman by a long score," said Paddy Logan.

"It's my ill luck; I've not got a marquis for a father, and must submit," answered Ludlam, shrugging his shoulders.

"It's a crying shame, I say. Oh! you should have seen him come on board last night, with his new-fledged honours thick upon him, in the shape of an epaulet on his left shoulder. How he strutted about the deck, with a shaggy Newfoundland pup running after him! and how he shook hands with Curling and Jager, giving a nod to the master and old 'cheese-parings,' as if he considered them scarcely worth his notice, though he did condescend to offer the tips of his fingers to Renton, our new lieutenant of marines, and to Dr O'Brien! I say, old Voules, I thought he was going to cut you altogether; but perhaps he'll honour you by giving that yelping pup of his into your charge to dry nurse. You'll not have many opportunities of paying court to him if he treats you in the fashion he does others."

"I pay court to Lord Reginald Oswald! never did such a thing in my life," answered Voules, blushing to the forehead. "But you are mistaken, Paddy, as to the way he treated me. If you had seen him afterwards, you would have said that he was as friendly as ever, only now, as he has become a gun-room officer, he is of course obliged to keep up a certain amount of reserve."

"Reserve! do you call it?" cried Tommy Shackel. "He glanced at me as if he had never seen me before, and when I went up to him, and put out my hand, he drew back with a look of astonishment at my audaciousness, I suppose, as he thought it."

"You fellows shouldn't speak of Lord Reginald in the way you are doing," exclaimed Voules. "I consider he was an ornament to our mess while he remained in it, and it is but natural that his father the marquis should get him promoted as soon as he was eligible. As a friend of mine, I cannot allow him to be spoken of disrespectfully."

There was a general laugh at this remark.

"Faith! an' who's speakin' disrespectfully of him?" asked Paddy Logan. "Sure, we're only saying that he's inclined to give the cold shoulder to those he looks upon as his inferiors in rank. And the belief is, Voules, that he's going to throw you overboard, notwithstanding all the court you paid him."

"I say I never did pay him court," said Voules, emphatically. "He did me the honour to select me as his friend, and I fully believe that he intends to treat me as a friend in future."

"'The proof of the pudding is in the eating!'" answered Paddy. "As I said, Voules, to show his affection, I have no doubt he'll make you dry nurse to that pup of his. Faith! what an honour it will be!"

At this last remark, Voules was nearly boiling over with rage, but just then, as the whole mess was against him, he saw that it would not do to give away to his feelings, and Paddy Logan continued—

"When you last accompanied Oswald—I mane his lordship—to Elverston Hall, you thought instead of joining us again, you would have got your promotion, as you always boasted that the marquis had promised to obtain it for you."

"I boasted of no such thing!" cried Voules, scarcely able longer to restrain himself. "I merely said that the marquis had promised to give me his interest as soon as his son had been promoted. Before many months are over, I expect to get my step and be appointed to some ship on the East Indian station."

As may be supposed, his messmates watched him whenever he was speaking to Lord Reginald, to observe the terms he was on. Voules was evidently himself not very confident about the matter. Instead of taking his arm and walking up and down the quarter-deck, on the larboard or lee side, as he had been accustomed to do, he approached the lieutenant with the usual mark of respect shown by an inferior to a superior officer, always addressing him as "My lord," and looking highly pleased on all occasions when spoken to. It was asserted in the berth that there must have been some difference between them, or that Voules had offended the young lord, but what it was no one could exactly tell. However, by his humble conduct, Voules won his way back into the good graces of Lord Reginald, who did not find either of his brother officers or the lieutenant of marines or purser very genial companions. The two lieutenants were middle-aged men, who had gained their present position by long service and hard work, and they looked with a jealous eye on one who had been placed on the next ratline below them, over the heads of many older men than himself. The marine officer was a married man, rather grave and saturnine, and the purser had Republican tendencies, though he did not exhibit them except in the expression of his feelings towards lords and big-wigs in general.

Thus Lord Reginald was induced to seek the society of Voules and his former messmates more than he otherwise might have done. As Paddy had surmised, Lord Reginald did actually tell Voules that he should be much obliged if he would look after his pup Neptune, and the toady was frequently seen carrying its food to the dog, washing and brushing it, and attempting to teach it various tricks. Before long a drawing appeared, with Voules dressed as a nurse, a mob cap on his head, a bowl of pap by his side, from which, spoon in hand, he was feeding the puppy on his knees, while a figure, which could not fail to be recognised as that of Lord Reginald, was standing by, saying, "You make a capital nurse, and I shall be happy to recommend you to a similar situation."

It was handed about among the members of the mess, until somehow or other it reached the gun-room. When Lord Reginald saw it, he laughed heartily, and declared that he must show it to poor old Toady.

He occasionally dined in due course with the captain. On such occasions his rank enabled him to speak more familiarly than any of the other officers would have done, with the exception perhaps of the first lieutenant. Captain Moubray was not the man to have allowed him to take the slightest liberty on duty. Lord Reginald had seen Dick Hargrave, with the other men from the cutter, come on board, and as he eyed the young sailor the ill feelings with which he had before regarded him regained their ascendancy in his bosom. Dick would willingly have kept out of his way, but in the course of duty they were constantly brought together, when he saw by the glances the third lieutenant cast at him, and the tone of his voice, that he was as much disliked as ever. His own proud spirit was aroused. He could not help often returning glance for glance, though he kept his lips closed to prevent himself saying anything which could be taken hold of. Lord Reginald never addressed him by name, but frequently shouted at him, and bestowed epithets of which—"You lazy hound!"

"You skulking rascal!" were among the least offensive.

Dick bore this as other men had to bear it from their officers in those days, and although from any one else he would have been very indifferent to such treatment, he felt little inclination to brook it from one whom he considered had so wronged him.

It must not be supposed that Lord Reginald fancied that he was acting in a revengeful spirit towards Richard Hargrave. He considered that he had formed a correct opinion of Dick, whom he looked upon as a daring young ruffian, and that Captain Moubray had acted unwisely in not punishing him for deserting the ship. He ventured, even, after introducing the subject of desertion, to express his opinion of Richard Hargrave, Ben Rudall, and other men of extremely doubtful characters whom he classed together. "They come from my part of the country," he observed, "and are all smugglers to the backbone, ready for any sort of outrage. At one time my father lived in dread of having his house burnt down by them, so fearful were the threats of vengeance they uttered in consequence of his determination of putting a stop to their illegal practices. That young Hargrave was a poacher as well as a smuggler, and nothing but strict discipline can keep him in order."

The captain bit his lip, for he could not fail to see at what the third lieutenant was driving. "They cannot poach or smuggle here, and the daring and hardihood they have exhibited in their illegal calling may be turned to good account," he answered. "They are the fellows to send on any dangerous or difficult undertaking, and we may feel very sure that they will not show the white feather."

"Young Hargrave is a desperate ruffian, notwithstanding, and I wouldn't trust him," muttered Lord Reginald.

"He has shown his ruffianism by acting very gallantly on two occasions, I understand," observed the captain. "I wish we had a couple of hundred young fellows on board of the same description. After a few months' training they become prime seamen, and will fight their guns to the last."

Under ordinary circumstances, during a long voyage, time would have hung heavily on the hands of the officers, but with a large convoy to look to, there was plenty to do at all hours of the day and night. Not only had the merchantmen to be watched, but a bright look-out had to be kept for strange sails, especially for any daring privateers, who, tempted with the prospect of obtaining a rich booty, might pounce down on some unfortunate trader during a dark night and carry her off. This had actually been done on several occasions, and Captain Moubray endeavoured to impress upon the masters of the vessels under his charge the importance of sailing in due order together, and keeping a strict watch at night. The convoy hove to off Saint Helena, to obtain fresh provisions and water. The line was passed without any enemy having been encountered, when, falling in with the south-east trade wind, they got well to the southward, after which with a fair breeze they stood to the eastward on their passage round the Cape of Good Hope. It was considered advisable not to put into Table Bay, to avoid the risk of information being given to the enemy of their whereabouts. Unusually fine weather had hitherto been enjoyed, and the ships keeping well together at length entered the Indian Ocean.

Although the masters of the merchantmen generally strictly obeyed orders, there were one or two who caused more trouble than all the others put together, by sometimes carrying too much sail and getting ahead of the convoy, sometimes too little and lagging astern, knowing that they could always regain their position. This occurred especially at night, when the skippers, wishing to save their crews the trouble of making sail, would wait until daylight to do so.

One evening a strange sail had been seen to the northward, and Captain Moubray had ordered the Ione to go in chase and ascertain her character, while he shortened sail so as to bring the Wolf on the weather quarter of most of the ships. At dark the Ione had not returned, though Captain Moubray ordered a look-out to be kept for her, expecting every moment to see her signal. At the same time, of course, a constant watch was kept on the various vessels of the convoy, which could be seen like so many dark shadows gliding over the ocean to leeward, each carrying a light to show its position.

It was blowing a fresh breeze from the north-west, but there was not much sea on. The captain frequently came on deck, inquiring whether the Ione had yet shown her number. The same answer had been returned that no light had been seen to windward. He was pacing the quarter-deck with his night-glass in his hand, when the sound of a gun, which seemed to come up far away from the southward, reached his ears.

"What can that be?" he asked of the first lieutenant, who just then joined him.

"That's more than I can positively say," answered Mr Curling. "It must be a signal from one of the convoy, something must have happened to her, and she wishes to draw our attention."

While he was speaking the sound of another gun came up from the same direction.

"We will run down and see what's the matter," said the captain; "but you need not turn the hands up at present."

The helm was put up, the yards squared away, and the frigate, allowing the sternmost of the merchantmen to pass her, ran down in the direction whence the sound of the firing had come, and where, a long way off, a light could be seen, showing the whereabouts of the vessel supposed to be in distress. Several times the sound of a gun was heard, and the frigate, as she drew nearer, returned the signal. All eyes were directed towards the light, when flashes were seen, the rattle of small arms was heard over the clashing of cutlasses, and some declared that they could distinguish the shouts and cries of men engaged in mortal combat.

"There can be no doubt as to what is passing. Turn up the hands, Curling. There seems to be either mutiny on board the ship, or some other vessel has run her aboard. If we attempt to go alongside with this sea on, we shall too probably sink both together, while if we fire into one, we may injure our friends. We must board her in the boats. We will stand on, shorten sail, heave the ship to, then lower them and let them drop alongside."

"Ay, ay, sir," said the first lieutenant, and immediately issued the necessary orders.

So fiercely engaged all the time were the two vessels, that no signal was made by the English merchantman to show that she was aware help was at hand. The captain's orders were quickly executed, and the frigate now being on the weather bows of the two ships, the boats were lowered and placed under the command of the second and third lieutenants, Mr Bitts, Voules, Paddy Logan, and another midshipman, with a party of marines, going in them. They had not far to pull, for the vessels going ahead, the boats dropped alongside the English merchantman, which was to windward.

Led by Mr Jager, Lord Reginald and Mr Bitts quickly clambered up her side, and reached her deck, where a fierce struggle was taking place, the enemy having boarded and almost overcome her crew, who, however, though many of their number had fallen, were still struggling manfully. They cheered as they discovered the timely assistance which had arrived.

Mr Jager and his party furiously attacking the enemy, soon turned the tide of war and drove them back to the starboard bulwarks, where the bravest in vain attempted to defend themselves. Those who could manage it leapt back on board their own vessel, others making the attempt were cut down, and not a man of the remainder escaped, all being killed or desperately wounded by the onslaught of the Wolf's crew.

The Frenchmen were in the mean time attempting to cast off the grappling irons, but in the darkness and confusion they were unable to succeed.

"Follow me, my lads! We must board the enemy. It will not do to let her get away," cried the lieutenant.

Dick, who was near him, with Ben Rudall and several other men, sprang into the main rigging of the privateer, for such she appeared to be, and clearing a space before them with their whirling cutlasses, leapt down on her deck. Others came after them. One party following Mr Jager, drove the enemy forward, where the larger part of them were assembled; while Lord Reginald and the boatswain attacked those on the quarter-deck, compelling them inch by inch to give way, until the poop was gained.

The struggle did not last long. Cries for quarter were heard from the people forward as well as from the after part of the ship, but the crew of the English merchant vessel seemed little disposed to grant it, and continued hacking away at every Frenchman they could come up with. Again and again Mr Jager had to order the combatants to desist, and shouted to the Frenchmen to throw down their weapons.

"Hold, my men! Don't you see the enemy have given in?" he exclaimed. "We are bound to show them mercy, as they ask for it."

"It's mighty little we can see how to know friend from enemy," cried a voice from among the seamen.

"Bring a lantern or two along here," cried the lieutenant, and he called out to the Frenchmen to throw down their weapons, while he peremptorily ordered his own men to desist from striking.

Lord Reginald and the boatswain had in the mean time driven their opponents, the larger number of whom were officers of the ship, right aft to the starboard quarter, where they stood grouped together, defending themselves bravely until, seeing that all hope was gone, they too cried out for quarter.

"Quarter! Yes, we'll quarter you!" cried Mr Bitts the boatswain. "Come on, lads! We shouldn't let such ruffians as these live."

Lord Reginald, however, interposed, and speaking French well, directed his hard-pressed foes to throw down their swords and they should be safe. It was not without difficulty, however, that he restrained the merchant seamen from rushing in and cutting them down. Unfortunately, some Frenchmen who had leapt below, maddened by their defeat, fired up the hatchway, when the victors, springing down after them, followed them round the deck, killing all they met with.

On the lanterns being brought, the deck presented a fearful scene, for more than half of the crew lay dead or desperately wounded. The survivors, with their officers, three of whom only had escaped, were mustered, and being deprived of the pistols and long knives generally worn in their belts, were conveyed across the deck of the trader into the boats. A savage, sunburnt crew they appeared as the light of the lantern fell on their countenances, and doubts were entertained whether they could claim to be even privateersmen, so greatly did they resemble the most desperate of pirates.

The deck of the merchantman had even a more fearful aspect than that of her foe. Besides the Frenchmen who had been killed, and whose bodies lay thick under the starboard bulwarks, nearly a fourth of her people had been shot or cut down, while bravely defending their ship. Among them was the master, who had been nearly the last to fall, just before the man-of-war's men leaped on board.

His body presented several wounds; one through his breast had evidently been fatal. He was a strongly built man, with a sunburnt visage. Probably he had been endeavouring, by his courageous resistance, to redeem his fault in not more carefully attending to his sailing directions.

The first officer presented himself with his arm hanging loosely by his side, from a severe cut in the shoulder and another wound in his leg, while the second and third were both more or less hurt.

The first officer informed Mr Jager that they had taken the privateer for one of the convoy. That when hailed a reply was given in English, and that the same voice inquired whether they had a surgeon on board, as their own had gone mad, and they had three sick people who required immediate attendance. While the surgeon was preparing to go, and they were thus thrown off their guard, the stranger was seen to be sheering alongside. The master, suspecting treachery, called up the watch below, and ordered all on deck to seize such weapons as were at hand to resist the boarders, while he directed the rest of the people to arm themselves.

Scarcely were the crew thus partially prepared for an attack, than the stranger, running alongside, threw grappling irons aboard them. On this the master had the gun fired, which was first heard on board the frigate. His promptness had saved the ship. The crew well knew that they were fighting for their lives.

As soon as one party had armed themselves completely they took the places of those who had received the first attack and had driven the enemy back. In vain, however, they attempted to cast off the grappling irons. The ships' yards had become locked, and no effort they could make could separate them. Thus, had not the frigate come to their assistance, they must have been taken. Whether or not the privateer would have succeeded in getting off with them was doubtful. As soon as the prisoners had been secured, Mr Jager ordered Lord Reginald and the boatswain to return on board the frigate and bring back the captain's orders. In the meat time he and the men remaining with him, aided by the crew of the merchant vessel, got the two ships free from each other, and, making sail, stood for the frigate, which, as soon as the boats got alongside, had kept away. Neither ship was injured, except where their sides had ground together, and the yards when interlocked had torn the canvas and carried away some blocks and ropes.

Some time elapsed, during which the Wolf had been making signals to the rest of the convoy, to put them on their guard, lest other ships of the enemy should be in the neighbourhood. Dick and Ben had remained on board the prize.

"I say, I wonder who'll have charge of this craft," observed the latter to Dick. "I hope it will be Mr Jager. She's a fine little ship, carries twenty-four guns, and would make a capital cruiser. If the captain commissions her, and sends her away to play the same game on the enemy that she's been playing on our ships, we may chance to fill our pockets with prize-money. I think it's very likely, too, and if Mr Jager gets command we shall have an officer who'll keep his eye open, and not let the grass grow under his feet."

"I should like it well enough, especially as we shall be free of that Lord Reginald and Toady Voules," said Dick. "They have been as bad as ever lately; one sets on the other. Voules knows that the third lieutenant hates me, and so, to curry favour with him, he loses no chance of bullying me. I have kept out of trouble as yet, but I don't know how long I shall be able to do so."

"But what if the toady be sent with us? He is on board now, and may be appointed to do duty as first lieutenant," remarked Ben.

"I shouldn't mind him alone," answered Dick. "When he hasn't his master to hound him on, he'll let me alone. He does it to please the other, and when Lord Reginald's eye is off him, he won't bother himself about me."

As may be supposed, Ben and Dick had very little time for conversation. They were speedily called to trim sails, and the scanty crew of the prize, beginning to get weary from their constant exertions, were looking out for the frigate to heave to, a sign that the boats were about to return. She waited, however, until daylight broke, when once more, having gathered the convoy together, she hove to, and the prize coming up, doing the same, the boats were soon alongside.

"I say, Ben," said Dick, as they approached, "it is my belief that Lord Reginald is to have command, for there he sits, with his dog by his side, and a big portmanteau between his knees. I'd sooner be out of this craft than in her. I hope we shall be sent on board the frigate again."

Dick was right. Lord Reginald, his dog and portmanteau, were soon on board. He presented some papers to Mr Jager, who replied—

"Very well, I congratulate you on having so fine a command, and I confess that I wish I had been able to take charge of the prize, but as the doctor considers me unfit to be away from him, I must submit. Who are to form the prize crew?"

"Voules and Lucas, the men on board, as well as the men I brought with me," answered Lord Reginald. "They'll do very well, and, as we are rather short-handed, no more could be spared from the frigate."

"Then all I have to do is to wish you good-bye and a pleasant cruise. It's fortunate we had not to fire into her, or the vessel must have gone into harbour to refit. Now she's as well able to keep the sea as she ever was."

"I hope her late master was a man of taste, and has some good curry and plenty of cuddy stores," said the young lord, laughing; "and I say, Jager, I wish you'd ask the captain to send me back the French cook. He'll know best how to dress his own provisions, and I should like to keep a good table while I am on board."

"I'll do your bidding," answered Mr Jager, and shaking hands with Lord Reginald and his two subordinates, he returned in the boat to the frigate.

The Marie proved herself to be a capital sailer, a quality her crew had counted on when they ventured to attack the Dunmore Castle, expecting to be able to pillage her and get away before daylight.

Lord Reginald walked the deck with a self-satisfied air, which was well imitated by Voules and Lucas. The young lord invited them into the cabin to mess with him, an honour they gladly accepted. "We shall have a jolly time of it," he said, "and I hope old Moubray will send us on an independent cruise when we get to Java."

"He'll have to send us more men, then, for we are too short-handed to meet an enemy," said Voules; "otherwise, I'd rather not go at all."

"No fear on that score," observed Lord Reginald. "We shall get as many as we want out of the merchant vessels. They must spare us their men, whether they like it or not. By-the-by, that young Hargrave is on board; I would have dispensed with his services. The very sight of him is annoying. He eyes me with the same daring, impudent look he always did, and I shouldn't be surprised if he and the other smuggler were to try and get up a mutiny on board, if they have the opportunity."

"I'll see that he plays no trick of that sort," answered Voules. "I'll take the spirit out of him, depend upon it, and make him wish that he had remained on board the frigate."

"I don't want him treated unjustly, or punished unless he gives occasion by his conduct," remarked Lord Reginald.

"Oh, no, no," answered Voules, with a significant smile; "of course not. The truth is, I have a grudge against him myself. The other night I heard him, when he didn't know I was near, speaking of me as 'Toady Voules.'"

"Did he, indeed?" said Lord Reginald, leaning back and laughing. "Why, that's the name you've got in the mess. Ah, ah, ah! However, for one of the men to make use of it is next door to mutiny. They must not be allowed to speak so disrespectfully of their officers."

Voules, who was considerably irritated by his superior's remark, did not fail to exercise his ill feelings on Dick, and not a day passed that he did not find some excuse for ill treating him and making him perform the most unpleasant duties. Voules, like other men of mean spirit, delighted in acting the tyrant; indeed, had he wished to create a mutiny, he took the most effectual means of causing one. He had now numberless opportunities which he could not have obtained on board the frigate. He was constantly abusing the men during every operation they were ordered to perform, though his chief displeasure fell on the heads of Ben and Dick, who were instantly placed on the black list, when their grog was stopped and they were compelled to walk the deck with a shot in each hand during their watch below, or other punishments were inflicted. Dick, as he had resolved, kept his temper and submitted without complaint to this injustice; but Ben nourished a spirit of revenge, and secretly formed a plan for wreaking his vengeance on the heads of his persecutors. With this object in view, he found out who among the crew were most dissatisfied and were likely to join him in his project. He did not, however, venture to speak to Dick. He fully believed that he should in time win him over. "He'll do something or other before long, which will rouse even his spirit," he said to himself, and "then he'll be more ready than any of us to do what I want."

Although the provisions in the cuddy were of good quality, and there was a sufficient supply for ten times the number of the commander's limited mess, those of the crew were scanty and of bad quality, and it seemed surprising that Frenchmen should have consented to live upon such fare.

The steward told the men of the abundance which existed aft, but when they complained through Mr Voules to Lord Reginald, they were told that the provisions intended for the cabin could not be spared, and that they must be content with what they had got. Neither did Dick nor any of his officers dream of what was going forward.

The convoy was approaching its destination. The Ione had rejoined the day after the capture of the Marie, but no other event of general importance had occurred. The fleet was now within two hundred miles of the Straits of Sunda, when from the masthead of the Marie, which was to leeward, a sail was seen to the southward.

She immediately communicated this by signal to the Wolf, and received in return an order to chase the stranger and ascertain her character. The other part of the signal was either not seen, or misunderstood by Lucas. "Up with the helm!" cried Lord Reginald; "square away the yards! If the fellow doesn't appear to be too tough a customer, we will bring him to action and sail back in triumph."

The young lord did not observe the expression which passed over Voules's countenance, but fully believed that they had been ordered to chase, and, if to chase, to fight the vessel in sight, should she not prove to be an enemy of overwhelming force. Though Voules had never shown the white feather, he was decidedly prudent, and he remembered the Maria's limited crew, which, though sufficient to navigate her, was not strong enough to man the guns.

The Marie looked more formidable than she really was, and as she approached the stranger made all sail to escape. The latter soon showed that her sailing powers were not much inferior to those of the Marie, by keeping almost the same distance ahead as she had been when she first discovered that she was pursued.

The Marie soon lost sight of the fleet. Voules suggested that as there was no probability of coming up with the chase for many hours, that they should haul their wind and stand back.

"Certainly I will not do that," answered Lord Reginald. "Captain Moubray must have known that we could not come up with her in a hurry, and intended that we should overhaul her. We are gaining on her, and if we continue the chase and do not lose sight of her during the night, we shall probably, some time to-morrow, get alongside."

"If we get so far away we shall find it no easy matter to regain the fleet," observed Voules. "The chase may not prove to be worth the trouble we are taking to capture her."

"That remains to be proved," answered Lord Reginald. "If you feel uncomfortable, turn in and go to sleep, perhaps when you awake you will find that we have fought an action, and taken the enemy."

Voules reddened at the taunt. It was a cruel return, he thought, for all the flattery he had bestowed on the young lord. "I have no wish to avoid a fight, but I say again, there is no chance of its taking place for many hours to come, at least at the slow rate at which we are now overhauling the chase, and if we take her—which is problematical—we shall find it a difficult matter to rejoin the convoy."

Lord Reginald was in one of his obstinate moods. The more Voules urged him to abandon the chase, the more determined he was to continue it.

The wind remained fresh, and he asserted that they were gaining on the chase.

Dick and Ben were stationed forward.

"How soon do you think we shall come up with that craft?" asked Dick.

"Maybe to-morrow and maybe the next day, if we follow her long enough and the wind doesn't shift. But if it does, and she slips away to windward, the chances are we shan't see her again. The weather doesn't look very settled to my eye, though I am not accustomed to these seas, but I have heard tell that it blows pretty strong hereabouts at times."

The day wore on; still the chase kept well ahead. She was probably bound to one of the Dutch settlements in the Moluccas, and intended to pass through the Straits of Lombok or some other passage into those seas to the east of Java.

Night came on. It was bright, and the stranger could still be distinguished as she glided over the moonlit sea.

"Everything is in our favour," observed Lord Reginald to Voules; "but we must take care not to lose sight of her for a moment. Take care that sharp-eyed fellows are stationed on the forecastle. I must turn in for a spell, though do not fail to call me should anything occur."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Voules, though he grumbled not a little, as he went forward to see that his lordship's orders were carried out. He found Ben and Dick on the forecastle. "Can you see the chase?" he asked, pretending not to notice who they were.

"Ay, ay, sir. It must be a pretty deal darker than it now is, not to see her," answered Ben.

"Well, well, take care that you keep her in sight, and sing out if she changes her course."

"Ay, ay, sir," answered Ben, and Voules went aft again earnestly hoping that thick weather would come on, and that the chase would be lost sight of. He could then throw the blame on the two look-out men, who would not be likely to escape punishment. They, however, during their watch, had no difficulty in keeping the chase in sight; when they turned in she appeared right ahead as clear as ever, with the moonbeams shining on her white canvas.

When Lord Reginald came on deck at the commencement of the morning watch, the chase could still be seen, and he felt convinced that the Marie had gained upon her. This made him determined to hold on. The sky, however, gave indications of a change of weather. Dark clouds were gathering in the horizon astern, while the wind came in fitful gusts, sometimes falling so much that the sails flapped against the masts. As the sun rose, the whole sky was suffused with a fiery glow, which, reflected on the ocean, made it appear like a sea of burnished copper. As the sun rose higher the heat became almost unbearable, growing more and more oppressive.

"Does your lordship recollect that we are in the region of hurricanes?" asked Voules. "It would be prudent to shorten sail."

"Not until the chase does, though. I wouldn't for much lose the chance of coming up with her. If we hold on for another two or three hours, we can get her within range of our guns. We have been gaining on her faster than ever lately."

"If the wind catches us and whips the masts out of the ship, the 'holding on' will do us little good," replied Voules.

"Well, we will see about it by-and-by," said Lord Reginald, who was on the point of going down below to breakfast, the steward having just announced that the meal was ready.

The midshipman Lucas was left in charge of the deck. Soon afterwards an old seaman, who acted as quartermaster, came up to him. Touching his hat, he said—

"Won't you order the hands to shorten sail, sir? We can't tell when we shall have the wind down upon us, and we shall be losing some of our spars, if no worse happens."

"His lordship wants to come up with the chase first, though I should be glad to have some canvas taken in."

Just then the look-out forward shouted, "The chase is shortening sail, and is hauling up to the northward!"

Lucas ran aft and shouted down through the skylight, announcing what had occurred. "Shall we shorten sail, too, sir?" he asked.

Voules sprang on deck, and looking round him, without waiting for Lord Reginald's orders cried out, "All hands shorten sail!"

The royals were quickly handed, but there was brief time to stow the canvas before the wind filled the sails, and away flew the ship before it. The fore top-gallant sail, imperfectly secured, blew out, and in an instant was torn into shreds, which fluttered wildly for a few seconds, and became wrapped in inextricable coils round the yard. The courses were next brailed up, but it was hard work to stow them. Lord Reginald saw, when too late, that it would have been wiser to shorten sail before the wind struck the ship. All hands were now employed in reefing the topsails, for the masts bent like willow wands. Though the ship was kept before the wind, there was great risk of their being carried away. Two hands were sent to the helm, but even they had the greatest difficulty to steer the ship. The only hope of saving the masts was in keeping directly before the wind until the canvas could be taken off her. The mizzen-topsail had been furled. The main-topsail was already on the cap, when a loud report was heard as it was split, and fluttering violently threatened to carry away the men off the yard.

The crew with their knives endeavoured to cut it adrift, when they were called down to assist in securing the foresail. It was of the greatest importance to keep head sail on the ship, lest she should broach to. The sea was rising, sending the spray in thick masses over the ship, obscuring all objects round her.

Dick and Ben had been actively engaged aloft.

"I say, Ben, what's become of the chase?" asked Dick, shading his eyes and looking out ahead through the driving sheets of spray.

"That's more than you or I or any one else can tell. She may be where she was, or she mayn't. Mortal eyes can't see through that thick mist ahead, and we are not likely to set ours on her again even if she keeps afloat, and that's more than I can say any ship will do if it comes on to blow much harder than it does now. I thought I knew what a gale of wind was, but this beats all I have ever seen. Old Harry Cane rampaging about on board with a vengeance!"

The hurricane had in truth burst on the Marie, and the utmost skill of the best seamen was required to preserve her from destruction. All that day she ran on before the wind. Spilling-lines had been got over the closely reefed fore-topsail, but even then it seemed that the sail would break away. With a report like a clap of thunder the mizzen-topsail was blown clean away from the bolt ropes. The royal masts were seen bending about like fishing-rods, first one way then the other. The lee clue of the fore top-gallant sail was blown adrift. Two hands went aloft to endeavour to stow it. One of the poor fellows, in making the attempt, was torn from his hold. A wild shriek was heard as he sank into the seething foam, without hope of being rescued. The other, pale and trembling, came down, leaving the sails fluttering wildly. Scarcely had he reached the deck than away went the fore top-gallant mast over the side.

Lord Reginald bravely maintained his presence of mind, endeavouring to act for the best, as he stood holding on to the mizzen rigging while he issued his orders. Voules looked pale and anxious; he comprehended fully the dangerous position of the ship. Unknown islands were ahead, against one of which she might strike with but little warning. Again he urged the men to keep a lookout, not for the chase but for land, now so much dreaded.

Lord Reginald came aft, and stood by his friend, "Well, Voules; things don't look promising," he said, in as cheerful a voice as he could command.

"No, and they may look worse, if we find ourselves running down on one of the many islands which dot these seas."

"We must keep a bright look-out, and haul up in time," replied the young commander of the Marie.

"But if we do haul up with this hurricane raging and this sea running, we may drift on shore notwithstanding," answered Voules. "Our only chance will be to endeavour to get round the island, if we see it in time, and to anchor under its lee, if holding ground can be found, and wait there until the storm is over."

"We will have a look at the chart, and ascertain how far off the land is," said Lord Reginald.

Going below, he and Voules eagerly examined the chart. No islands appeared for some distance ahead. To the northward, was the east end of Java, with Bali, Sumbawa, and Floris, extending in a long line beyond it. Should the wind shift to the southward, they might run through one of the passages existing between those islands; but still, the ship was a considerable distance to the southward of them, and they hoped that the hurricane would cease before they were driven thus far. On returning on deck, the wind appeared to have increased rather than decreased. As they were standing together, looking anxiously at the bending masts, the remaining top-gallant sails were torn from their lashings, and before any hands could be sent aloft to secure them, the masts themselves were carried away and the lately trim ship looked now almost a wreck. To cut them clear was a work of no little danger. The men saw what was required. Several volunteered, notwithstanding the risk they ran, to go aloft. Among them was Dick. With knives and axes they cut desperately at the rigging, until, as the ship heeled over, they fell clear of her into the water. Relieved of so much top hamper, she appeared to be greatly eased. Another night was approaching, but the storm raged as furiously as before. All night long the ship ran on, the seas increasing in height, and threatening every instant to poop her. Although for a short time Lord Reginald turned in, yet neither he nor any one on board could obtain much sleep. Several times he came on deck, only to see the ship labouring on amid the foaming billows.

Another morning dawned, the weather looking as wild as on the previous day. Few on board failed to ask themselves, "Shall we see another sunset?" Again and again Lord Reginald and Voules examined the chart, with anxious forebodings of evil. They saw that numerous islands and reefs lay ahead of them. Lord Reginald proposed hauling the ship up before dark, to escape the risk of running on one of them during the night. Voules feared that if it was done the canvas would not stand, and that she would then be drifted helplessly on any reef or island in her way. No sun was to be seen; the whole sky wore one uniformly leaden hue, while the dark seas of the same tint rose and fell, their tops covered with masses of foam which, blown off by the wind, filled the atmosphere. "Should there come a lull, we will haul up," exclaimed Lord Reginald. "We shall do it at our peril," observed Voules. "It must be done," was the answer. "Stand by to haul out the spanker! Starboard the helm!"

The ship as she came to heeled over almost on her beam ends, while the seas broke over her, driving the masses of spray into the eyes of the crew, so that they could scarcely see a few yards before them, while the lee side of the deck was almost under water. Although no signs of a leak had hitherto been discovered, the acting carpenter, who had been ordered to sound the well, came aft with a pale face, announcing that a large quantity of water had found its way below.

"Man the pumps!" was the answer, and the already hard-worked crew were soon labouring away to clear the ship. So often, however, were the nozzles of the pumps under water, that the men could not tell whether they were drawing or not, and the cry, "Hold on for your lives!" compelled them frequently to let go and clamber into the rigging, or hold on by the stanchions, while a furious sea swept over the deck, threatening to carry them away. Again darkness had come on. Except a closely reefed fore-topsail and mizzen-trysail, not a sail remained. She was furiously plunging into the seas, when once more a report was heard, and the fore-topsail was seen blowing away in shreds. Directly afterwards the spanker gaff came down, and now not a shred of canvas remained, the ship in consequence drifting bodily to leeward. Most of the crew were forward, the officers and some of the men remaining on the poop. Among the former were Dick and Ben.

"I thought things were getting very bad," said Ben. "They could not be worse."

"What, then, do you think will happen?" asked Dick. "Why, we shall either go down or be driven ashore. It matters little which, for if the ship strikes there's little chance of any of us reaching the land, with these seas breaking over her, and then sweeping everything before them. I know what it is on our own coast. With such a hurricane as we have got blowing, it will be ten times worse."

"Then is there no chance of saving our lives if we strike?" asked Dick.

"Our best chance is to get hold of a piece of wreck and hold fast to it. You may be washed on shore, or you may be carried out to sea—it is six of one and half a dozen of the other. You may depend upon it, there's a watery grave for some of us before the night is over."

Dick felt his heart sink, but he remembered the prayers his mother had taught him. He tried to pray for himself; he knew, too, that she would be praying for him. His courage rose, he determined to struggle bravely for life.

Ben advised that they should go forward and stick to the forecastle. "That generally holds together the longest, and will give us a better chance of life," he observed. "Don't let go until the ship breaks up, and then you will have no choice, and must do as I before told you."

Dick replied that he would follow his advice, and they made their way to the forecastle.

As may be supposed, it was only by speaking at the tops of their voices that they could make each other heard. Their sentences, therefore, were brief and to the point. In the mean time, Lord Reginald, with Voules and Lucas, clung on to the mizzen rigging; near them were gathered the few men who had come aft. Anxiously they looked to leeward, hoping against hope that they might still be at a distance from land. The stout ship was drifted on, the hapless people on board frequently being covered by the seas which broke over her. At last Voules uttered an exclamation of dismay.

"I caught sight of land close under our lee; before ten minutes are over we shall be upon it," he cried out; "and Heaven have mercy on our souls!"

"We must look out for a spot on which to run her, and if we lose her, we may save our lives," said Lord Reginald.

But although the attempt was made, the ship would not answer her helm. An anxious gaze was cast at the dark shore, on which the roar of the breakers could be distinctly heard. All they could now do was to cling to the bulwarks until the fatal crash came, and after that, how long the stout ship would hold together it was impossible to say. Much would depend upon the ground on which she was thrown. If on rocks projecting from the shore, she would in all probability be soon dashed to pieces. Even the stoutest seamen held their breath as they waited for the inevitable catastrophe.

Lord Reginald, as he stood on the deck, could feel the ship now as she rose, now as she fell in the trough of the sea, surging on closer and closer to the dreaded coast. Those agonising moments were not to last long. At length came a fearful crash. The mainmast, as if torn up by some invisible hand, fell over the side, the foremast and mizzenmast following in quick succession.

"She's struck, she's struck! All's lost, all's lost!" cried several of the crew; while many who had hitherto shown ample courage in battle, shrieked out in their agony of fear.

"Hold on, until the ship breaks up!" cried Lord Reginald. "We may have a chance of getting on shore in the morning."

Though he gave this advice, he had little hope of its being followed. Sea after sea continued to dash against the ship, and he feared, from the cries which reached him, that many of his men were being torn from their hold and carried away. He could just distinguish Voules and Lucas clinging to the bulwarks a short distance from him. Now he cast his eyes on the dark shore with a line of foaming breakers between him and it. Then he looked seawards, and as he looked he saw an enormous black wave advancing, higher, it seemed to him, than any of its predecessors. On it came, and struck the ship, with a blow resounding louder than the loudest thunder. The centre of the ship seemed to melt away with part of the poop, carrying off several who had been clinging to it. No one could render help to another. It was each man for himself. He saw a figure, which he knew to be young Lucas, caught by the sea and whirled round and round. Voules still remained, holding on to the bulwarks. Then another sea came; he felt the poop breaking up beneath his feet. In another instant he found himself among the foaming breakers, surrounded by masses of wreck. He sank, but again coming to the surface, clutched a piece of timber. It was of too small a size to float him. He was rolled over and over, until compelled to let go. As he did so he saw close to him a large beam, with a bolt projecting from one end. Grasping the bolt, he got astride of the beam, being thus enabled to keep his body above the water, though he ran a risk of having his legs injured by the heavy pieces of wood dashing about on all sides. In vain he shouted, to ascertain if Voules or Lucas were near him. The only objects he could distinguish were the masses of dark timber amid the white, foaming breakers, and the outline of the rocky shore. It seemed even then doubtful whether he should ever reach that shore. Once, indeed, he fancied that he saw a human form clinging to a spar at no great distance from him, but unable to direct the movements of the piece of timber on which he floated, he could render no assistance to the hapless person, who returned no answer to his shouts. His own fate seemed uncertain. Should the timber be dashed against the rocks, he would in all probability be ground to pieces before he could escape, but on looking towards the land, he fancied that he could make out a sandy beach. He prayed that the timber to which he clung might be directed to it. Still, as he heard the fearful roar of the breakers, and watched the masses of foam which swept towards the shore, he felt the uncertainty that he should ever reach it. Several times he was nearly torn from his hold by the masses of wreck driven against him. His strength was decreasing. Another sea came rolling on, it might wash him from his hold. He clung to the bolt with all his might, and almost the next moment he felt his feet touch the ground. At first he was afraid of letting go. The second time he put down his feet he trod on the sand. Fearful that the beam which had carried him in safety might roll over and crush him, he let go, and making a last effort, struggled upwards. The foaming seas washed round his legs, and threatened to carry him back, but on he struggled, gasping for breath until the dry ground was reached, and then, by one strenuous effort, getting out of the reach of the water, his strength giving way, he sank to the ground, utterly exhausted.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

DEATH OF VOULES—ALL LOST—DESPAIR OF LORD REGINALD—NEPTUNE—WATER FOUND—A MOURNFUL DUTY—BURYING THE DROWNED—REMORSE—THE RIVAL CRUSOES—THE LAST OF POOR BEN—STONE THROWING—NOTHING BUT CLAMS— NEPTUNE AND THE PIGEON—THE BODY OF LUCAS DISCOVERED—GOOD INTENTIONS— AN ANGRY MEETING—NEPTUNE'S DISLIKE TO SHELL-FISH—A PERILOUS SWIM— LOOKING OVER THE ISLAND—ANOTHER STORMY ENCOUNTER—LABOUR IN VAIN—PRIDE AGAINST REASON—BOW-MAKING—NEP FINDS A TREASURE.

Lord Reginald lay for some minutes on the beach utterly exhausted, but not senseless. He recollected vividly all that had occurred. So battered and bruised did he feel, it seemed to him that he had only escaped from drowning to die a more lingering death on the barren shore, or to be massacred by the savage inhabitants of the island on which he had been cast.

"Is it my fate alone to have escaped among all the stout fellows who manned the ship?" he at length asked himself. "Perhaps even now some are struggling in the waves, and as I have been carried in safety to the shore, I ought to try and help them."

This thought made him attempt to rise, and he found that he could do so with less difficulty than he had supposed possible. The wind had begun to fall almost directly after the ship had struck, but still the seas rolled in as heavily as before. He knew, weak as he was, should he venture into their power, that he might be lifted off his feet and carried away in their cruel embrace. On looking around he saw a mass of broken spars, torn canvas, and running rigging thrown up within his reach. On examining it he found that he could unreeve some of the rope. He set energetically to work.

By using a knife which he fortunately had in his pocket, he was able to cut off several lengths, which, knotting together, formed a long rope. Taking three spars he forced them with all his might, in the form of a triangle, into the sand, and secured one end of the rope to the spar nearest the sea, while the other end he fastened round his waist. This done he was able to advance further into the water than he would otherwise have ventured to do.

He stood listening and straining his eyes over the foaming masses which continued to roll up unceasingly before him. He could distinguish the black ledge upon which the Marie had struck on one side, and on the other a lofty point which ran out to an equal distance forming the bay on the shore of which he had been thrown. The waters of the bay appeared still covered with floating masses of wreck tumbling and tossing about. While he was looking a crescent moon broke through the clouds, revealing to him for an instant what he supposed was the bows of the ship still holding together. The next instant the moon was obscured, and the object shut out from sight. Some of the crew might still be clinging to it, and if so he might not be left entirely alone. He shouted again and again, but no answer came; indeed, the roar of the breakers prevented his voice being heard at that distance. Some one might be clinging to any of the pieces of wreck floating about before him.

He listened, and at length fancied that he heard a faint cry. He gazed anxiously in the direction from whence he believed it came. He had picked up a long stick, so that he might the better be able to resist the force of the breakers should they surround him, or prevent him being carried off as they receded from the beach. Again he shouted, and once more fancied he heard a faint cry.

Yes, it was a human voice borne to him by the wind across the seething waters. He waited anxiously for the re-appearance of the moon, hoping that her light would enable him to discover the whereabouts of his shipmate, whoever he might be. He wished to save life, but he wished also to have a companion to share his misfortune.

At length, the moon appearing, he saw a piece of wreck, to which a human being was clinging, being carried by every succeeding sea closer and closer to the beach. The man was evidently lashed to it, or he could not have clung on. Lord Reginald at once saw the difficulty there would be in extricating him before the beam was rolled over and over. He again got out his knife that he might cut the lashings. The beam was almost within his reach, he could clearly see that it bore a man who, however, neither cried out nor made a sign that he was alive. "Still, the poor fellow may recover," thought Lord Reginald, and rushing forward as the next sea threw the piece of timber on the beach, he at once seized the inanimate form, cut the rope, and with a strength he scarcely believed himself to possess, dragged it up out of the reach of the water. As he did so he saw by the uniform that it was his own messmate Voules.

He laid him on the dry beach, and having loosened the handkerchief round his neck, knelt down by his side, and endeavoured to restore him to animation by chafing his hands and chest. After he had been thus engaged for some time, he heard Voules emit a low sigh.

"He is not dead, at all events, and may, I trust, be restored!" he exclaimed, resuming his efforts.

Voules sighed again, but still lay without making any effort to move. Lord Reginald looked round to try and ascertain if any place which would afford him and his shipmate shelter from the night air, was near. He could only see black rocks rising up above the beach, though in one place there appeared to be an opening, but it was too dark to distinguish whether there were trees beyond.

"It will never do to remain here all night," he said to himself; "it is still some hours off morning, and we both of us may perish."

The effort he had to make to take care of his friend was of the greatest benefit to himself. It prevented his thoughts dwelling on his own sufferings. He tried to lift up his companion, to carry him in his arms, but his strength was insufficient, and after going a few paces he was obliged to let him sink again on the ground.

"Voules, Voules, my dear fellow, do speak!" he exclaimed; "tell me where you are hurt. What can I do for you? You are safe on shore. If you could but arouse yourself, we might get under shelter."

But Voules only gave an occasional sigh. He seemed too weak almost to groan. Again Lord Reginald attempted to carry him towards an overhanging rock which rose at some distance beyond the beach. In this he succeeded better than at first, and after stopping two or three times he reached it. To his satisfaction, he discovered that there was a small cave, the bottom covered with dry sand. This would, at all events, afford a more comfortable resting-place than the open beach, as well as shelter from the rain, which now came on in dense showers. It was so dark, however, that he could not see his companion's features. Seating himself by his side, he once more began to chafe his hands and breast, he then turned him on one side, when his patient threw up some of the water which he had swallowed. Thus relieved, Voules appeared to recover slightly.

"You'll do well, I hope, my poor fellow, if you would but pluck up courage," said Lord Reginald. "When daylight returns we shall find some food and water."

"I fear not," answered Voules, in a faint voice. "I am bruised all over, and I feel as if my right leg was broken."

"I hope not," said Lord Reginald, examining the limb. To his dismay he found that Voules was right. "We must try and set it," he observed; "though it will prevent you being of much use for some time to come, you must not despair on that account. I earnestly hope that some of the men may have escaped to help us, though I could discover no one on the part of the beach where we were thrown."

Voules groaned deeply. "I am much obliged to you, Oswald, for what you have done for me, but it is of no use. I almost wish that you had left me to perish in the sea, for I feel that I am dying. It is very terrible; I have all sorts of sins on my conscience. Then I think of how I encouraged you to get that young Hargrave and the older man Rudall carried off from their homes, and how they have both now probably been lost. It seems to me as if their deaths were at my door."

"If they are at yours, they are at mine also," said Lord Reginald. "I dislike the fellows, and though I should be thankful if any of the crew escaped, I should not like to see their faces. The chances are they would wreak their vengeance on our heads, helpless as we are, without the slightest means of defence."

"I should be thankful to think that we had not been the cause of their deaths," said Voules.

"Well, well, don't talk about them, but try and get some sleep, old fellow; it will restore your strength more than anything else."

Voules groaned. "I shall never sleep again, until the last sleep of all," he muttered.

"Try, try," said Lord Reginald; "I'll sit up and keep watch."

"Thank you," murmured Voules.

Lord Reginald was silent, but Voules's heavy breathing and the low moans to which he gave vent, showed that his slumbers were troubled, if he slept at all. The young lord could understand how much his companion suffered from the pains which racked his own body, and yet, with the exception of the few bruises he had received, he was unhurt. For a long time he sat and watched, earnestly wishing for day, and at length he himself sank down on the sand and fell asleep. His dreams, too, were troubled. All the horrors of the shipwreck were ever present to his thoughts. Now he fancied himself struggling in the waves, now reaching the beach, but in vain attempting to climb up it, the seas carrying him back every time his feet touched the firm ground. He awoke with a start, fancying that Voules was calling him. The sun had risen, and the rays were streaming across the white sand in front of the cave. The storm had ceased, though the seas still came rolling sluggishly on, dashing into foam as they reached the beach.

"Did you call, Voules?" he asked, raising himself on his elbow to look at his companion, who however made no answer. "I must not awaken him," he said; "sleep will do him more good than anything else. I must go out and try and find some fresh water and food of some sort."

He got up on his feet; though he felt weak, he was able to walk. He was about to go out, when he cast a glance at Voules. He started back with horror, as he saw the pallid countenance before him, the glazed eyes staring wildly, the fallen jaw.

"Can he be dead?" he exclaimed, stooping down. He could not discover the faintest breathing. He lifted an arm, it fell lifeless on the sand. "Voules, Voules!" he almost shrieked out; "speak but one word to me."

No answer came from those open lips, and he saw too evidently that his companion was dead. The horrors of his situation burst upon him with more force than ever. He was alone in that apparently desert island; no one to consult with, no one even to speak to. He threw himself on the sand, and for some time lay almost as motionless as the inanimate form near him, believing that he himself would die. Then the desire to prolong his life returned. A burning thirst oppressed him; though he had eaten nothing since the previous day at noon, he felt but little hunger. He was about to leave the cavern in the hopes of discovering a spring, when he saw in the distance an object moving towards him.

At first he thought it must be some wild beast, but presently his favourite dog, Neptune, hove in sight, and came rushing on, leaping up, uttering loud barks of joy, placing his paws on his shoulders, and trying to lick his face.

"Where have you come from, Nep?" he asked. "Your coat is perfectly dry, you must have been on shore some hours." But Nep only wagged his tail, and bounded round and round him. Lord Reginald fondly patted the dog's head. "Thank Heaven, you have been saved, Nep. I have one trusty companion left, and I must not lose heart."

The dog seemed to understand him, and redoubled his signs of satisfaction. Suddenly he stopped, and looked towards the body of Voules, then he approached it cautiously, and after examining it for a moment he set up a loud howl, and turning round, ran crouching back to his master, as if fully conscious of the fate of the unhappy young man.

"Yes, he's gone, in truth!" said Lord Reginald. "You and I are now alone. We must set out to try and find a spring and some food, if they exist on this dreadful spot; but you don't look either hungry or thirsty. Perhaps you have found a spring. Come along, Nep; come along!" So saying, Lord Reginald, accompanied by the dog, directed his steps towards an opening in the line of cliffs which circled round the bay. As he advanced, the opening widened out, and to his joy he saw numerous cocoanut and other trees. At first he could discover no sign of a spring.

"That verdure cannot exist without water," he said to himself; "there must be some near at hand. Surely, if it exists Nep will find it." As he advanced further he found himself in a small valley running directly up from the sea, and shortly afterwards his eye fell on the sheen of water. It appeared to be a stream running down the centre and losing itself in the porous sand before it reached the ocean. He uttered a cry of joy, and pushed forward. He was soon stooping down, lapping the water up eagerly with his hand. He then began to feel the pangs of hunger. The only fruit he could discover were cocoanuts, but they hung so high above his head that he had no hope of obtaining any. He was too weak to attempt climbing even the smallest of the trees on which they grew. He thought of various devices for bringing them down. He might manage to get some could he find a long thin line which, by means of a stone, he might throw over the boughs. Then he searched about for other food. He looked also anxiously for human habitations. The sun beat down with intense heat into the valley, and the tall trees afforded but little shade. He was compelled at length to retreat towards the cavern. That, at all events, would be cool, he thought. A few more cocoanut trees only had to be passed, when, just as he was going under the boughs of one, he saw a large brown mass covered with fibre lying before him. Though he had never before seen a cocoanut when growing in a wild state, he knew what it was. He seized it eagerly, and began tearing off the outer cover. Conveying it to the cave, with a piece of stone he broke off the top, and having swallowed the refreshing juice in the interior, he soon broke it to pieces so as to get at the flesh. With this he somewhat satisfied the gnawings of hunger.

"Such food won't suit you, my poor dog!" he said, looking at Nep. However, the dog wagged his tail, and very readily swallowed a few of the pieces cut out of the shell, which his master threw him. He had now to consider what was next to be done. His eye fell on the body of poor Voules.

"He was a miserable counsellor, and did me harm by attempting to flatter me; though I confess that I had but little real regard for him, I certainly wish that he was still alive; but as he has gone, I must endeavour to pay him the respect I would to any fellow-creature, and give him decent burial." Saying this, he got up and looked about to settle by what means he could accomplish his object. The shore was strewn with timber and pieces of plank of all shapes. Hunting about he soon found a piece which would answer his purpose, though had he possessed an axe he might have chopped it into a more suitable shape; as it was, however, it would have to serve his purpose. His next care was to select some fitting spot for the grave. He pitched on one under the cliff, where the sand appeared sufficiently soft, while the shape of the rocks around would make it easily recognised.

He began to dig away, but the sand fell in almost as quickly as he shovelled it out of the pit, and he had greatly to increase its size before he could reach any depth. He felt sick at heart as he performed his unaccustomed task.

Neptune stood by watching him, apparently understanding his object, although he could render no assistance. At last the grave was dug. His courage almost gave way as he prepared to place the body of his late companion—one whom he had known for so many years—in his last resting-place. While chafing Voules's chest he had observed a locket hanging to a riband. He undid it, that he might deliver it to his friends. On opening it he saw that it contained the miniature of a young and pretty girl.

"Poor thing!" he said. "She thought him probably all that is brave and good. Now she'll value him the more because he has gone! I wouldn't undeceive her for worlds, though I have but little chance of ever being able to deliver this to his friends." He took his watch, and a few other articles. There was a pocket-book, but he had neither time nor inclination to look into it. Indeed, in all probability, whatever writing there was had been obliterated by salt water. Among other things was a small pocket spyglass, which was likely to prove useful. He found, on trying to lift the body, that his strength was insufficient for the task, so that he had to drag it by the collar of the coat to the edge of the grave, into which he managed to lower it.

"Rest there, my poor shipmate," he said. "I little thought when we were last on shore, amusing ourselves to our hearts' content, that such would so soon be your end. Yet, what may be mine?"

He rested for some moments, gazing with a sort of fascination on the dead body, unwilling to cover it up for ever from view. "It must be done!" he said at length, and he began to shovel in the sand, a task which was very quickly accomplished.

"Now I am all alone, the sole inhabitant of this island. That, however, would be better than finding it peopled by a savage tribe, who would either kill me or make me work for them as a slave. Had I the strength, I would build a tomb of rock over him, but he'll rest well enough without it. I suppose there are no creatures which will come and dig him up."

He would gladly after this have rested in his cave, for the rays of the sun, now high in the heavens, beat down with intense force on his unprotected head. At the same time, the pangs of hunger reminded him that he must go in search of more substantial food than cocoanuts would afford. He had heard that turtles laid their eggs on the sandy beaches of these islands, but whether he should find them at this time of the year, or whether the young turtles had been hatched and crawled away, he was utterly ignorant. As he walked along the shore, he carefully examined the sand, in the hopes of finding some mounds or the marks of turtles' feet to show where their eggs had been deposited, but not an indication of any sort could he discover.

"I shall have to depend upon shell-fish," he said to himself; "there must be numbers sticking to the rocks, and I must try and get them off with my knife. I wish that I had some fishing-hooks and lines. By scrambling out to the end of a reef I might very likely catch as many fish as I require, but as I have not the hooks and lines, I must manage with what I can get." He sighed as he felt his helplessness. On looking along the beach he saw it covered with pieces of wreck as far as the eye could reach. He might at all events find something useful among the articles thrown up. He had not got far when he caught sight of a human form surging up and down, close to the beach. It might be some person who, having clung on to a piece of the wreck during the night, was attempting to reach the shore. He rushed forward to assist the man to land, but scarcely had he seized an arm than he saw that it was that of a dead body. He did not, however, let go his hold, but dragged it up on the beach.

"I must bury the poor fellow, at all events," he observed, looking at the countenance of the man, who was one of the ordinary seamen. The discovery of the body made him look more narrowly along the beach, and he saw several others either thrown up, or floating close to the shore. The sight brought Richard Hargrave to his recollection. "He is probably among them," he thought, "and I was the cause of dragging him away from his home, prompted by my revengeful spirit and bad feelings. I am as guilty as if I were his murderer. I wish that he had made good his escape and remained at home, and I would give much now to know that he had reached the shore in safety, but that is not likely." He dragged up body after body, scanning their countenances anxiously, fearing that he should recognise that of Richard Hargrave. At last he came to one with grizzled hair and beard, which he recognised as that of the smuggler Ben Rudall, who had by his means been torn from his home.

"Unhappy wretch! By the way Voules and I treated him he must have had a miserable life of it on board. I suspect that he and Hargrave, if they had had the opportunity, would have treated me as I deserve. Would that I could forget the past! However, I cannot let them lie here to rot." On counting the number of bodies he had hauled out of the water, he found that there were no less than five. The task was abhorrent to his nature. "I little thought that I should ever become a grave-digger!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "However, it must be done; I couldn't rest at night if I knew they were there. I only hope that the sea has washed away the remainder, that I shall not have to bury the whole of my crew; perhaps by that time I shall become accustomed to it, only every day will render the business more horrible."

The young lord, however, managed to muster up resolution to commence the task. He went back for the piece of board which had served him to dig the grave of Voules, and commenced shovelling away the sand some distance above high-water mark. It would evidently require a large grave, and the task would occupy him some hours. The sun, which was intensely hot, beat down on his unprotected head, while the perspiration streamed from his forehead. At last he could work no more, and, supporting himself by the spade, followed by Neptune, he staggered to the nearest spot where he observed some shade beneath the cliff. As he threw himself on the ground, the dog lay down by his side with his tongue out, showing that he too felt the heat.