"I don't expect that you ever will teach him, young gentlemen," answered the boatswain seriously. "It would take centuries to produce the change. After many generations of domestic life that long tail of his, having become useless, would disappear; his hinder paws would take the form of human feet; his forehead would expand; his arms would become shorter, his body stouter—till at length all outward trace of his monkey origin would be lost. That's what my books say, and I believe them."

"Very good; I won't dispute the point," said Tom. "But I want to know boxy the first monkeys who turned into men got their education, by which the change was produced. As long as they had got their tails they never would have thought of leaving their native forests, so well suited to them."

"I haven't quite arrived at that part of the subject," answered the boatswain; "but I'll consult my books and tell you."

"Suppose we teach him seamanship, how long do you think it will be before he's fit to be boatswain of a ten-gun brig, Mr Scrofton?" asked Gerald, in the most innocent tone he could assume.

Just then some one gave Master Spider a sly pinch on the tail, which made him grin and chatter, and of course set all the midshipmen laughing. Mr Scrofton, not perceiving the cause, thought that they were laughing at him, and casting an angry glance from his ferrety eyes at Gerald, he answered, "I'll tell you what, young gentlemen, it would be in my opinion about the same time that it would take to fit you for the post, unless you mend your manners. The boatswain even of a ten-gun brig must be a man of character, and no jackanapes can ever become one; and the boatswain of a frigate, you'll understand, is not to be sneered at with impunity."

"That's the very point at issue!" exclaimed Tom, clapping his hands, and in no ways daunted by the boatswain's anger. "You acknowledge, then, that a monkey never can become a boatswain, and that Lord Monboddo is altogether in the wrong?"

"I don't acknowledge anything of the sort, because I know nothing about the matter," answered the boatswain, not intending to say what he did. "But let me inform you, if you bring that monkey of yours here again to mock me, I shall be compelled to take measures for putting a stop to such audacious proceedings."

The midshipmen fearing, from the vengeful look Mr Scrofton cast at poor Spider, that their pet's life was in danger, endeavoured to calm his anger by assuring him that they had no intention of being disrespectful, and that they begged he would retain his own opinion, notwithstanding anything they had said on the subject. They had a hearty laugh when they got back to the berth, fully resolved to bait the boatswain again on the first opportunity.

At length the two ships lay snugly moored off the Royal Dockyard, English harbour, in the island of Antigua, the prettiest of all pretty harbours. Their arrival caused no small commotion among the inhabitants, especially of the softer sex, when it was known that they were to remain some time, and that a ball was to be given to the officers at Government House. Colonel O'Regan and his daughter went on shore to stay with their friends, Mr and Mrs Houghton, who had a pretty cottage residence in the neighbourhood. A deputation came soon afterwards to invite them to the ball. At first Stella was disposed to decline the honour, as it involved a drive of eleven miles across the island to Saint John's, the capital; but Lieutenant Murray, who happened to be calling at the house, adding his solicitations, she accepted the invitation. The colonel was much disconcerted by the delay. He had expected to be at Jamaica some time before, where, as he told Captain Hemming, he intended to leave his daughter with some friends while he made an excursion to the Spanish Main. The object he had in view he did not explain. As there was no help for it he was obliged to submit, and the captain assured him that after leaving Antigua his intention was to proceed direct to Jamaica. Antigua, although not so lovely as other islands to the south, possesses a beauty of its own, and several trips to enjoy its scenery were made by the officers into the interior. On two occasions, Alick and Jack accompanied Stella and her father. While Jack took charge of the colonel, Alick rode by Stella's side. Each time he met her the more he was attracted, and yet he could not say that she gave him any encouragement. She was interested in his conversation, for he was better informed and talked better than his brother officers, but had she discovered his devoted admiration? They reached a spot near the coast almost on the summit of one of the lofty cliffs which form ramparts in most parts around the island, and from whence the ground slopes inwards in gradual declivities towards the green and grassy centre. The whole island, which is of a rough circular form, lay in sight. A line of fortifications crowned an opposite height overlooking the sea on one side, and a wide extent of country, consisting of undulating downs and verdant fields, in which countless cattle were feeding, with the numerous houses of the planters embosomed in trees on the other. In the north-west the town of Saint John's was clearly seen; while here and there, some of the many deep creeks and bays which indent the coastline could be distinguished running far inland, several swelling into estuaries and others forming commodious harbours. Isles and islets of all shapes and sizes lay scattered off the shore, and far away towards the west the islands of Guadaloupe, Montserrat, Nevis, and Saint Kitt's, rose out of the blue ocean.

"What a perfect Arcadian scene!" said Alick, as he and his companion gazed over the smiling landscape.

"And the Arcadians are kept in proper order by yonder frowning batteries," remarked Stella, pointing to the line of fortifications. "Until free and enlightened governments are established throughout the globe, we cannot hope to find a true Arcadia. How many a lovely region such as that now spread out before us has suddenly become the scene of rapine and bloodshed!"

"But those batteries are intended to defend not to overawe the inhabitants, and wherever the glorious flag of England waves, there, at all events, we may hope to find true liberty and peace," answered Alick.

"I would, then, that the flag of England were waving now over the whole world," said Stella, with an involuntary sigh; "I long for peace and rest, but since those who have the power are supine or indifferent to the sufferings of their fellow-creatures, it must be left to individuals to attempt the task of redressing the wronged, and restoring freedom to the oppressed."

Alick was puzzled what to answer. He guessed that Stella was alluding to her father's schemes for regenerating the world. As far as he understood them, from the few remarks the colonel had let drop, they were, he considered, utterly hopeless, but he could not tell Stella so. One thing, however, he discovered that though her enthusiasm and love for her father had made her warmly enter into his views, she was a true woman at heart, and as really feminine as he could desire. Alick changed the subject, and soon interested her with a description of his Highland home and the Western islands of Scotland. He fancied as they rode back that her manner had become softer when she addressed him than at first, and that she listened more willingly to him than to any of the other officers. At all events, he enjoyed a happiness in her company he had never before known, though he could not at times forget that in a few days they must be parted, and that the chances of meeting again were very small.

English Harbour is not so much liked by midshipmen as by gunroom officers and captains, the former having shorter leave and smaller purses, not being able to get away so often to amuse themselves in the capital on the other side of the island as their superiors.

Mr Houghton, a friend of Colonel O'Regan, had come on board to take luncheon with the midshipmen, as had Alick Gordon.

"I vote we take a cruise this afternoon," exclaimed Tom. "Mr Houghton, you were saying that you wished to go down to Falmouth Harbour, and Mr Cherry will, I daresay, lend us the pinnace. It is only about two miles to leeward, and we can beat back again in time to land you for your dinner-hour."

Mr Houghton accepted the invitation. Tom forthwith went to the first lieutenant, with whom he was a favourite, to ask for the boat.

"You may have her, youngster," was the answer; "but keep a look-out for squalls; they are apt to come off the shore without warning, and you may be capsized in a moment if you are not on your guard."

"Thank you, sir, we will take great care," answered Tom, returning to the berth to report the success of his mission.

Mr Jennings, the lieutenant of marines, hearing that they were going, begged to accompany them. Desmond, Archy, and Norris, McTavish, the assistant-surgeon, and the captain's clerk, made up the party, with two men to look after the boat while they were on shore.

The wind was light, the sea smooth, and with all sail set before the breeze they ran down the coast. In a short time they arrived at their destination, and, as the weather was hot and they had not much time to spare, they amused themselves on the beach while Mr Houghton went up to pay his visit. He was not long absent, and on his return they at once shoved off and stood to the southward, hoping to find more wind at a distance from the shore. They were a merry party, and as usual stories were told and songs sung. They had made several tacks, but as yet had got not more than half way back to the ship.

"We will go about again," said Norris, who was at the helm. "At all events inshore we shall feel less of the current which drifts us to leeward almost as fast as we beat to windward."

The boat was put about, and once more headed in towards the land, which was about two miles distant.

"Now McTavish, give us one of your Scotch songs," exclaimed Lieutenant Jennings; "the 'Laird of Cockpen,' or something of that sort."

McTavish, who though he had not much of a voice, contrived to make his songs popular by the humour he threw into his tone, had sung about a stave or so, and Norris and the rest of the party, with laughing countenances, while listening to his song, forgot Mr Cherry's caution.

The boat had been gliding smoothly on, when suddenly over she heeled. Norris, putting down the helm, shouted out—

"Let go the halyards!" but before a hand could reach the cleats her gunwale was under water.

"We are going over," cried Norris. "Up to windward all of you." Saying this he sprang to the weather side, and the rest followed his example: though they could not right her, yet she went over so slowly that they all had time to scramble up on her side before her canvas touched the water. The sails being flattened aft assisted to support her, and prevent her from going right over. For the first moment all believed that she would sink and leave them alone on the surface. Fortunately, however, her ballast consisted of breakers of water which, not being secured, floated out.

"Come, at all events we have something to hold on to," said Tom, "and now we must try and right the boat."

"Who has got a knife?"

Every person felt in his pockets, but no knife could be found. The seamen, strange to say, had come away without theirs; they and the midshipmen attempted to cast off the sheets, but the side of the boat to which they were made fast being under water could not be reached. For some time no one spoke; at the distance they were from the ship they could not hope to have been seen.

"Is there no chance of our drifting on shore?" asked Norris at length.

"I am afraid not," answered Mr Houghton. "The current sets away from the land, and we shall be carried farther and farther from it."

They looked anxiously around for a sail, on the chance that she might pass near them. Not one was to be seen standing towards the land. Again a desperate attempt was made to right the boat.

"If we had but a knife we could do it," cried Tom. "I will never again step into a boat without one."

"We shall be fortunate if we have the opportunity," observed McTavish. "There is but little chance of our being picked up, and as to any of us reaching the shore that seems impossible."

No answer was made to his remark. The squall which had capsized the boat was succeeded by others. The weather was evidently changing for the worse, and the boat drifting farther and farther from the land. Their prospects were dreary in the extreme, indeed almost hopeless. The gunwale of the boat on which they were seated was only six inches out of the water, so that should a sea get up they might all quickly be washed away.

Norris felt very unhappy, as he had been at the helm. "I hope that you fellows will forgive me," he said. "I little expected the boat to capsize so suddenly, though I ought to have kept a better look-out."

"Don't talk about it," answered Tom. "It was as much our fault as yours. We have each of us much to ask forgiveness for if we were to count up old scores."

"Mr Jennings, I hope you will forgive me for capsizing you in the gale when we were coming out from England."

"Of course, youngster," he answered gravely; "I have not thought about it since."

"Thank you, sir," said Tom, as if his mind had been relieved of a burden.

"I hope old Scrofton won't be thinking about the tricks we have played him."

"I was just after thinking that I wish he may not ill-treat Spider," cried Desmond; "I don't know what the poor baste will do without us."

"What we have to do is to forgive all others from the bottom of our hearts," remarked Archy. "We need not trouble ourselves what they will think or say of us."

Archy, who was a true Christian, made several other fitting remarks, clearly pointing out to his companions the only way by which they could be prepared for the new existence into which there seemed every probability they would soon have to enter.

"It's a grievous thought, my friends, that we do not all so live that we may be fit at any moment to die," he observed calmly.

Few of those present failed to agree with him, and for the time, at all events, to wish that they were as well prepared as he appeared to be.

Again they were all silent for some minutes.

"Something must be done!" exclaimed Tom, who had been thinking over the matter, and in his own mind had resolved what to do.

"It's too far for any of us to swim to shore," observed Mr Jennings; "I would try it, but I never could keep afloat five minutes together."

"I, too, am a miserable swimmer," sighed Mr Houghton. "Besides which, the sharks would take good care not to allow one of us to reach the shore," he added, in a whisper.

Neither of the seamen could swim, and McTavish, the only other grown man of the party, had had very little practice either.

"Well, then," exclaimed Tom, "I will try it! My brother Jack swam on shore when the Racer was wrecked in the Mediterranean, and was the means of saving the lives of many of the people; I am not a much worse swimmer than he was then; I feel sure that I could do it if I had a companion. It's a long way to go alone through the silent water."

"Faith! I would go with you," cried Desmond, "but I am afraid that I should keep you back rather than help you forward."

Archy Gordon, who had sat silent during the discussion, suddenly exclaimed, "I am not so good a swimmer as you are, Tom, but I see no other way of saving our lives, and if I go down I shall at all events be doing my duty."

"Thank you, Archy," said Tom; "I accept your offer, and will do my best to help you along."

Had any other means offered, the rest of the party would not have allowed the young midshipmen to run so fearful a hazard of their lives. Mr Houghton, especially, knew well the danger they would encounter from the sharks, but he said nothing to damp their courage.

Archy at once began to get ready. Taking off his shoes and jacket, he gave them to McTavish, and begged him to preserve them for him.

Tom followed his example, though not, indeed, with the same careful spirit as his friend; he threw his jacket and shoes into the water. They both kept on their socks, which were providentially coloured, as well as the rest of their clothes.

"Good-bye, old fellows," said Tom; "we must lose no more time." And he and Archy shook hands with all round. "Now, Archy, we will start, and strike out bravely." Tom suiting the action to the word slipped into the water, Archy did the same. On they went, keeping alongside each other. Archy found that he could swim better than he had expected, and he and Tom cheered up each other.

"I wish Gerald had been with us," said Tom. "Our chances of escape are better than those on the wreck."

Now and then they turned on their backs, resting for a little; striking out, however, with their arms and legs, so that they still made headway.

Tom, under his brother's instructions, had become a first-rate swimmer, and for his age was wonderfully muscular; so that he was able to go on steadily without feeling exhausted. Archy, though taller and bigger, from having had less practice, more quickly began to feel fatigued. The shore seemed a long way off; still they had already, they saw, not a considerable distance from the boat, for they could scarcely distinguish her as she floated just above the surface. Tom thought that they must be a mile from the shore. Again they threw themselves on their backs, pushing on with their feet and keeping their arms moving round and round. When Tom looked back, he could no longer see the boat; he did not, however, tell Archy of this, he could not help fearing that she had sunk.

"Are you rested, Archy?" he asked.

"Yes!" was the answer, though not in quite so confident a tone as Tom would have liked.

"Well, then, on we go again," said Tom, and they swam steadily forward as before. Scarcely a minute after this, as Tom cast his eye on one side, what was his horror to observe the fin and back of a huge shark, scarcely more than a fathom from him. The monster shot by. "I only hope it is steering a different course to ours," thought Tom. Just then he caught sight of the wicked eye of another at the same distance, following in the wake of the first. He did not tell Archy what he had seen, for fear of unnerving him, while he kept striking out with might and main, letting his feet rise higher than he would otherwise have done for the sake of creating a splash, and shouting as he swam on—

"Strike away, Archy. Bravo! We are getting on famously."

Archy in the meantime was doing his best, though his legs and arms began to ache; still he resolved, as long as his strength would hold out, to persevere. At length he felt that he could do no more.

"Go on, Tom," said he faintly. "Make the best of your way on shore and get help for the poor fellows, I will follow as fast as I can."

"No! no!" answered Tom, "I am not going to desert you, come rest your head on my chest. It will help you wonderfully, just consider me a piece of cork, you know I float like one, only keep your legs kicking and your arms moving smartly."

Tom did not tell Archy why he gave this advice, but he knew very well that if they were to remain quiet for an instant the cowardly sharks would make a dart at them, and that only by splashing vigorously could they keep off the monsters. He himself did so with his legs and one hand, while he placed the other under his friend's back. Archy felt his strength much restored after this rest, and declared himself ready to go on again. On they went once more. Though they were certain that they had made good way, still the shore appeared fearfully far off, as they gazed at it with eyes growing somewhat dim from fatigue.

Archy exerted himself more than he would before have considered possible, but once more a faintness came over him.

"Oh! Tom, I am sinking, don't wait for me, you will soon reach the shore now," he cried out.

Tom, however, approaching with a couple of strokes, seized him, and once more placed his head on his chest, striking furiously with his own feet; for the instant before he had seen another shark, and the monster seemed eyeing him as if about to make a grab at his arms and legs.

"Keep your feet kicking out, as I told you before," he exclaimed. "You will not sink, and it will keep them from getting the cramp. Kick, Archy! Kick!"

Archy could with difficulty do so, still he felt a great relief to his arms, and suddenly his strength again seemed to return.

"I will go on now," he said, turning once more round, and he and Tom swam on together as before, with their eyes fixed on the shore. Each time that Archy felt faint he was aroused by Tom's encouraging cries, and nerved himself to fresh exertions. How anxiously they strained their eyes ahead! the shore grew more and more distinct, and yet it seemed a long way off. At length they could distinguish the sandy beach and the green herbage beyond. Again Archy's strength began to fail him. Near as was the shore, he felt that he might not, after all, be able to reach it. His sensations were those of a person in a dreadful dream. Even Tom began to feel his strength almost exhausted. Archy once more cried out that he was sinking. That moment Tom felt his feet touch something; a horror for an instant seized him. It might be the back of a shark; still on he struck, towing Archy. Again his feet touched something below him; it did not yield. He tried again. Yes, he was, sure; it was firm ground.

"Hurrah, Archy! we are on shore at last," he cried out. "Let your feet fall, and you will find I am right."

"Thank God!" answered Archy, as his feet also touched the sand.

Happily the sea was smooth, and there was no outdrift. Even then Archy felt that he could scarcely reach the beach. Tom gave him his hand, exclaiming—

"Come on; we have not far to go now, at all events."

They waded on. Gradually the water shoaled as they made their way up the shelving sand. Tom felt his strength returning, hot Archy could with difficulty make headway. Now the water reached only to their middles; now it was scarcely knee-deep, and they were able to get on faster. Tom breathed more freely, for he expected to see Archy drop every instant. Scarcely, indeed, had they reached the dry sand than down he sank. Toot threw himself by his side.

"Cheer up, Archy; we are safe," he exclaimed. "Don't give way now."

"I shall be better soon," said Archy; "but oh! Tom, let us return thanks to Him who has preserved us. Don't let us fancy it was our own strength. I never otherwise could have done it, I know."

"I am thankful—indeed I am; but we must not forget our companions."

"Go, and try to get a boat, and put off to them; I will follow you as soon as I am able to."

It was already getting dusk, and the gloom was increased by thick clouds gathering in the sky, betokening a blowing night. Tom saw, indeed, that no time was to be lost, and, finding that Archy could not yet move, he unwillingly left him, and hurried off to obtain assistance.

We must now return on board the Plantagenet. When Mr Cherry found that the boat did not make her appearance, as it was long past the time the midshipmen promised to be back, he felt somewhat annoyed, and made up his mind that the next time they asked for the boat they should not have her.

He was walking the deck, when the quartermaster announced that a boat had come off from the shore with a black in her, who had something to say about a pinnace, but what it was he could not exactly make out.

"Let him come on deck at once," said Mr Cherry, hurrying to the gangway.

"What is it you have to say, my man?" he asked.

The negro doffed his hat, twisting and wriggling about, apparently either from nervousness at finding himself on board a man-of-war, or from his anxiety to deliver his message properly.

Mr Cherry, however, managed to make out that a boat had been capsized, that two midshipmen had swum on shore, and that they had gone off again in two boats to search for the wreck.

Just then Jack and Terence, who had been on shore, returned, and, on cross-questioning the black, they felt satisfied that Tom and Archy Gordon were the two midshipmen who had reached the shore, and that those remaining on the wreck were in extreme peril.

The report of what had happened quickly spread through the ship, and every one felt anxious about their shipmates.

Four boats were immediately manned, Jack and Terence each taking command of one, Higson going in a third, and Mr Scrofton having charge of the fourth. The first ready having called alongside the Tudor to give the information, two of her boats were immediately despatched to aid in the search. The weather in the meantime, as night advanced, grew worse and worse. Down came a deluge of rain, while vivid lightning darted from the sky; the wind, too, had been rising, and as they got outside the harbour they found a considerable sea running.

Each officer was to take the direction he judged best. Before shoving off the boatswain got the black, who brought the information, into his boat, and pumping him learnt exactly whereabouts the pinnace had capsized, while he also ascertained the direction in which the current ran.

It might seem an easy thing to fall in with a boat which had capsized scarcely a mile off; but some hours had elapsed since the accident had occurred, and during all that time she must have drifted for a considerable distance. The direction in which she had gone also could be calculated only by those who knew exactly the set and rate of the current. Jack and Terence went away fully believing that they should before long fall in with the wreck; their only fear was that those left on it might have been washed off, or, succumbing to fatigue, have dropped into the water. The thunder rattled and the lightning flashed over head. Between the intervals they often fancied they could hear the voices of their shipmates hailing them; sometimes, too, through the gloom they imagined that they could see the boat on her side, with a few still clinging to her; but when they got up to the spot, she was not there. Though Terence hoped to find all the party, he naturally felt most anxious on account of Gerald Desmond.

"I ought to have thought of the risks he would have had to run," he said to himself. "To be sure I got into a good many scrapes and tumbled out of them, and I hope he may. I cannot bear the thoughts of having to write to my poor sister, and to tell her that her boy is lost."

Still the boats continued searching in every direction; the wind blowing fresh, and the foaming seas hissing round them. There was little hope, indeed, that they should find those they were looking for, though the boat herself might by chance be fallen in with some time or other.

Mr Scrofton, meantime, who, though a bad philosopher, was a thorough seaman, had run down at about the distance from the shore he understood the pinnace had been when capsized. He had, however, passed the spot, according to his calculations, some way, no sign of the wreck having been seen, when a hail was heard.

"There they are! hurrah!" cried some of the men.

"No, no; that came from a boat. I see her."

"What boat is that?" asked Mr Scrofton.

"A shore-boat, and I am Tom Rogers," was the answer.

The boats were soon alongside each other. Tom said that as soon as he could procure a boat he had shoved off, and that Archy Gordon had done the same—he was at no great distance in another boat.

"You don't expect to find her hereabouts," said Mr Scrofton. "She will have been carried according to my calculation, four or it may be five miles more to the southward by this time, and it will take us the best part of an hour before we are up to her. My plan is to run down that distance, or more than that, and then to beat back. It's better to go rather beyond her than a little short, and if she is still floating we shall fall in with her."

Tom saw the wisdom of this plan, and the two boats stood on in company, a bright look-out being kept on either side. They had run on for some time when Tom thought that they must have gone far enough, but the boatswain persevered. Tom's boat being manned by blacks he had nothing to do but look out. Fully half-an-hour had passed, when he thought he saw an object ahead. He hailed Mr Scrofton's boat.

"All right!" was the answer, "I see her."

"Let go the halyards," cried the boatswain, and the sails were lowered, but as they approached great was Tom's sorrow to see only five people clinging to the boat. Mr Houghton and Lieutenant Jennings were among them, but he could not distinguish Gerald Desmond.

"Poor fellow, he must have gone," he murmured.

"Where are the rest?" asked Mr Scrofton, as the boat ran alongside, and eager hands were stretched out to lift the sufferers on board, for they could with difficulty help themselves. "We are glad to see you, though."

"They had not left us five minutes before we saw you," answered Mr Jennings; "they cannot as yet be many hundred yards off."

Tom immediately pulled away towards the shore in the direction the swimmers must have taken. He knew that though the time was short they might have all sunk, or that the ravenous sharks might have got hold of them. Nothing but despair, indeed, would have induced them to make the attempt.

Great was his relief on seeing at length four heads above the surface, with their faces directed landward. So intent were they, indeed, that they were not aware of his approach. Each one had lashed himself to an oar with the faint hope, though they had but little notion, of swimming, of gaining the shore. Tom's shout was the first intimation they had of his escape, for they all had given him and Archy up as lost.

Desmond was the first helped on board, and great was their delight at meeting. Highly satisfied with the success of his expedition, Mr Scrofton received all the party on board, promising the blacks in the shore-boat a further reward if they would tow the pinnace towards the shore. He then, with the rescued party, made the best of his way back to the ship, happily soon afterwards falling in with Archy Gordon; whose boat, while he was taken on board, was sent to assist the other shore-boat.

Captain Hemming, who felt very anxious on their account, was too glad to get them back to find fault. Tom and Archy received the praise which was their due for their gallant act, while Mr Scrofton was properly complimented by the captain for his sagacity and judgment, and the midshipmen resolved never more to attempt to quiz him about his philosophical notions.

Jack and Terence did not get back till daylight, when they found that Tom and Gerald had been snug in their hammocks for several hours. They felt somewhat inclined to quarrel with them for the trouble they had given, though in reality heartily thankful that they had escaped.



CHAPTER SIX.

THE CRUISE OF THE DROGHER—BARBUDA FIELD-SPORTS—HOSPITABLY ENTERTAINED—SAIL AGAIN—CAPTAIN QUASHO—A DRUNKEN CREW—REACH SABA—THE ISLAND EXPLORED—THE BLACK CREW TAKE FRENCH LEAVE—HIGSON AND OTHERS GO IN SEARCH OF THEM—THE THREE MIDSHIPMEN AND NEEDHAM DRIVEN OFF THE LAND BY A HURRICANE—THE DROGHER DISAPPEARS IN THE DARKNESS OF NIGHT.

Although all the gunroom officers who could get leave were anxious to go to the ball, old Higson, who was not a dancing man, and some of the youngsters from both ships declared that it would be a great bore. Notwithstanding the fearful danger so many of them had lately escaped, they took it into their heads that it would be far pleasanter to make a trip somewhere by sea. After due discussion they hired a drogher, a country vessel employed in running between the surrounding islands and islets. She was sloop-rigged, of about thirty tons, with a small cabin aft, a capacious hold, and a forecastle for the black crew—honest fellows, but not pleasant neighbours in a close atmosphere. Higson went in command. Tom, and Gerald, and Norris, with Archy Gordon, and another midshipman, and a master's-assistant from the corvette, with Dick Needham, formed the party, including, of course, Master Spider, who was taken to make fun. The mids also had their doubts as to the treatment he might receive from Mr Scrofton during their absence.

It was settled that they should first steer for Barbuda, where snipes were to be shot, fish caught, and deer hunted, and that then, wind and weather permitting, they should visit other islands in the neighbourhood. Provisions enough to last them twice the time they were likely to be away were shipped, and liquors in proportion. They fully expected to enjoy themselves amazingly.

After beating out of the harbour, and rounding the east end of the island, under the pilotage of the regular skipper, Captain Quasho, they had a fair wind for Barbuda, where they arrived early in the day, and cast anchor in a small harbour. They were cordially received by the overseer, who happened to be close at hand, and who, with one assistant, constituted the white population of the island. He gave them leave to kill as many birds as they could hit, promised them horses to ride in chase of deer, and, what was more to the purpose, invited them to dinner at his residence, the castle, an ancient fortalice on the shores of a lagoon some distance off. They agreed to shoot till the arrival of the steeds, which the overseer rode back to order.

After a considerable expenditure of powder to little purpose, for Tom, the best shot among them, had only killed one snipe, a troop of horses, led by several black cavaliers, dressed in leathern caps and high hoots, with belts round their waists, and duck-guns slung over their shoulders, and followed by a pack of hounds, made their appearance. Their leader announced that they were the huntsmen, and invited the officers to mount the steeds they had brought. Tom inspected the horses with no favourable eye. They were sorry animals, but the rest of the party were not particular, and all were soon mounted. As to going, that was another thing—four miles an hour was the utmost their riders were likely to get out of them. The midshipmen kicked their heels with might and main, and whacked the poor beasts' backs till their arms ached, but not a foot faster would they move.

"I say, Sambo, how shall we ever run down the deer with these brutes?" asked Higson, perspiring at every pore from his exertions. The black huntsman grinned at the notion of overtaking the deer.

"No, no, massa, we get round dem, and shoot with guns. Surer way to kill dem."

"At all events let's go and see the style of sport," said Higson, and the party set forward. The island is mostly flat, and so covered with high bushes that they could see neither to the right hand nor to the left. They reached a forest of considerable extent, when, after some time, the dogs started a deer, which Sambo's huge duck-gun, loaded with slugs, brought to the ground. Scarcely was the venison bagged than down came such torrents of rain that the party were speedily wet to the skin, and were glad to make the best of their way towards the castle, keeping close together not to lose each other. The wardrobe of their host furnished them with dry clothing—the elders with shirts and trousers, the younger having to dispense with the latter garments, and in somewhat masquerading guise her Majesty's officers sat down to a sumptuous repast of turtle and venison, several varieties of fish, and land-crabs of exquisite flavour. Bottled beer and wine in abundance made them all very jolly, but there was a drawback. Flights of mosquitoes came buzzing and biting them, unmercifully revelling in the youngster's fresh blood, till some oakum set on fire, with fresh leaves thrown on it, put the miscreant insects to the rout. Cigars and pipes were produced, and the midshipmen thought not of troubles, past or future. Sofas and chairs served them for couches. Old Higson sat up lustily puffing away at his pipe, and thereby escaped the countless punctures and furious itching, of which every one else complained when they got up in the morning. After breakfast their host sent them across the lagoon in two clumsy fishing-boats to see a seine drawn.

The opposite shore gained, the black fishermen having landed their passengers, plunging into the water, carried out their net in a semicircle, and soon began dragging the ends towards the strand. The mids of course lent a hand, hauling at one end, while some of the negroes took the other, and the rest tumbled about outside, laughing and shouting, and beating the water to frighten their prisoners. In spite of them some fifty or more of the biggest fish, dreading the cauldron or frying-pan, making a bold dash for liberty, fairly leaped over the net, most of them, as they rose three or four feet out of the water, clearing the heads of the negroes, while several sprang right into their faces, capsizing one stout fellow, and making two or three others howl and caper in a way which set the midshipmen roaring with laughter. They had, notwithstanding this, a capital haul, consisting of baracoutas, snappers, gold and silver fish, Spanish mackerel, king-fish, and others. Tom and Gerald, in their eagerness, rushed into the water to catch hold of some of their prey, when a monster gave a grab at Paddy's fingers, which made him spring back with alarm. The blacks directly after hauled out a shark big enough to have bitten off his arm, if not to have swallowed him. The same afternoon the adventurers got back to their drogher, the overseer having liberally supplied them with as much venison and fish as they could possibly consume. The chart was got out, and a consultation held as to the place they should next visit. Captain Quasho was called in.

"Take my 'vice, gent'men; wind fair for Saba—cur'us place—den call at Saint Kitts—fine oranges dere. See Mount Misery—big craig up to de sky, ten tousand feet high," (Quasho was a little over the mark), "and so on to Nevis—lubly isle, and we get back to English Harbour in good time. Yes; I forgot dere one more isle we go see. Me got broder dere. Only one buckra, massa, and him family berry glad see officers; plenty fun, oh yes! Den we stop a day or two and catch fish. Plenty fine fish in dees seas, massa. Great big baracouta and glouper—him fifty pound weight; and mauget, and hedgehog, and jew-fish; him wonderful good to eat, fit for de Queen of England," and Quasho smacked his lips. "Den dere is de snapper and flatfork, and squerrel and parot-fish, wid just all de colours like de bird; and de abacore, almost as big as de glouper; and, let me see, de doctor—him got lance in de tail, and so him called doctor, ho! ho! and den dere is de king-fish, and de wattee, de kind, de comaree, de convalby, de old wife, de cobbler, de ten pounder, de garr, bolalwe, reay, de shew, and me don't saby how many more." Quasho here ceased enumerating for want of breath, declaring that he had not mentioned half the delicious and curious fish the buckra officers were sure to catch if they tried; and that he would undertake to procure hooks and lines should they wish it.

Quasho was not disinterested in giving this advice. The drogher was hired by the day, and the longer she was out the more he pocketed. The midshipmen did not reflect on this, and thought his advice good. Old Higson also was in no hurry to get back to the ship to attend to the unpleasant duties of the mate of the lower deck. He was captain for the nonce, and command is sweet, even over a black crew and a set of boisterous youngsters. The anchor was got up, and sail made accordingly for Saba.

A moonlight night on the Caribbean Sea in fine weather is very enjoyable, provided a person does not go to sleep with his eyes gazing at the pale luminary, for if he escapes being moon-stricken he will certainly get a stiff neck or suffer in some other way. The youngsters enjoyed themselves to their hearts' content, and when tired of skylarking with Spider, piped to supper, after which those not on watch turned in. What were the rats, cockroaches, and centipedes swarming in the little confined cabin, redolent of tobacco smoke and spirits, to them? Not one-thousandth part as bad as the detestable mosquitoes on the shores of the Barbuda lagoon, they agreed. So some occupied the bunks—regular ovens—others the lockers, and Tom took possession of the cabin-table, the least stifling spot, but tenable only—and that by no human being but a midshipman—in moderate weather. Old Higson took the first watch. Timmins, the master's-assistant was far too eloquent just then to be trusted, and Norris was to have the middle watch. He at all events was steady. Quasho, however, had taken more Montserrat rum on board than was good for his intellects such as they were, and Higson suspected that he was as likely to steer north as west, or to box the compass if left in charge. Needham was perfectly sober; he was never otherwise when at sea, for he had a strong head, and took but little liquor. It might be too much to answer for him when the ship was paid off. He preferred sleeping on deck to occupying a locker in the cabin; and of course it would not have done to have sent him to sleep forward with the blacks. He did once put his nose through the fore hatchway, and as quickly withdrew it, coughing and spitting to get rid of the disagreeable odour which ascended from below.

"To my mind, Mr Higson, them niggers are all as drunk as sows," he said, coming aft, and touching his hat as he spoke. "Quasho and the whole lot of them have turned in, and are snoring away like grampusses, except Sambo here at the helm, and he's pretty well two sheets in the wind."

Higson had not observed this when he came on deck after supper, for Sambo, a big, powerful negro, was keeping the vessel's head the right way, and steering a straight course.

"Well, Sambo, how is it with you?" he asked, to ascertain the condition of the man.

"Me sober as judge," answered the helmsman, in a husky voice. "If de oder black fellers for'ard take too mush rum, no fault o' mine. I mate of de Snapper, and got character to lose."

"Take care you don't lose it then, my friend," said Higson. "I see how it is. I shall have to put all hands on an allowance, and if you've got any rum stowed away I must have it brought aft or hove overboard. You understand me."

"Yez, massa ossifer, berry right," answered the black, with a grin.

"You can lie down, Needham, and be ready to keep watch with Mr Norris," said Higson. "If there isn't another nigger to relieve Sambo you can take the helm, and as the weather promises to hold fine we shall do very well."

In less than a minute Dick was asleep with a sail over his head, and Higson paced the deck till past midnight. He then roused up Needham, and sent him down to call Norris. Tom also awaking sprang on deck. As soon as Higson had turned in, Sambo declared that he could no longer stand at the helm, and Needham taking it the black dived into the forepeak. A growling and chattering sound ascended, but no one appeared. It was evident that the negroes considered the buckra officers competent to manage the vessel, and had resolved to take their ease. At daylight the occupants of the cabin came on deck well-baked. They talked of heaving-to and bathing, but the fin of a shark appearing above the surface made them change their minds, and they refreshed themselves by heaving buckets of water over each other. The lazy crew had not yet appeared.

"We'll soon make them show themselves," said Higson; and he, Timmins, and Norris, each taking a bucket full to the brim, hove the contents simultaneously down the forepeak. A chorus of shrieks and shouts instantly followed.

"Oh, ki! what happen! Oh lud—oh lud—we all go to be drowned!" exclaimed the blacks, as springing from their berths they tried to make their way on deck. Quasho, with eyes only half-open, bolted right against Higson, sending him sprawling on the deck; the next man capsized Timmins, and would have bolted overboard in his fright had not Tom and Gerald caught him and hauled him back. The head of the big mate next appeared, when those below catching him by the legs pulled him down again, on which he began belabouring them with head and fists and heels till one by one they made their escape, leaving him knocking his skull against the deck, under the belief that he had some of them still under him.

"A pretty set of fellows you are!" exclaimed Higson, rising to his feet. "What would have become of us if we had been caught in a squall and thrown on our beam-ends? No more grog for any of you this cruise— you'll understand that?"

As soon as the big mate, now the most tipsy of the party, had been got on deck, Higson and Timmins went below, but not a bottle of rum could they find. There were a few cocoa-nuts and gourds in the lockers, and other provisions, but that was all. As the place was horribly unsavoury, they were glad to get on deck again.

"Buckra ossifer no find rum—rum all gone!" said Quasho, with a well-feigned sigh. The other negroes grinned, and the big mate looked highly amused, but said nothing. The fire in the caboose having been lighted, the black skipper acting as cook, the midshipmen sat down to breakfast. Everything now went smoothly enough. Spider afforded a fund of amusement. As the wind was aft, it was too hot to do anything else than play with him. The black crew, with the exception of the man at the helm, lay down forward, and were soon fast asleep. When it was time to relieve him, Captain Quasho kicked up one of the sleepers and sent him aft, expediting his movements by a pretty sharp bang on the head with a frying-pan, observing, "Me know how to keep discipline aboard de Snapper, I tink." Thus the day wore on—luncheon and dinner occupying a good deal of time, for, in spite of the heat, the midshipmen retained their appetites. The heat increased as the sun rose. If it was hot on deck it was hotter still in the cabin, which the stifling air and the cockroaches rendered almost insupportable. Towards evening they came in sight of the curious island of Saba, having the appearance of a high, barren, conical-shaped rock rising directly out of the ocean. As they got nearer, a few huts were seen at the base of the mountain, and in front a flight of steps hewn out of the solid rock leading to the very summit. They ran in and anchored close to the shore in a little cove. As there was still an hour or more of daylight they agreed to land at once, and explore the place that evening, so that they might sail again next morning. Up the steps they climbed, for it was evident that they must lead somewhere. On reaching the top, what was their surprise to find themselves on the rim of a large circular basin, and looking down on a small town standing in its midst surrounded by vegetable gardens and orchards. The inhabitants received them very cordially not often being troubled by visitors, and offered them the best the island could supply, chiefly vegetables and fish, with the promise of a kid if they would stay till the next day. An unsophisticated race were these Saba islanders. "The world forgetting—by the world forgot." As there would be no little risk of breaking their necks should they attempt to descend the steps at night, the adventurers wished their hospitable entertainers good-bye and returned to the shore. It was hot on the top of the hill, it was hot everywhere; so they agreed that it would be as well to sail at once, so as to have a longer time to spend at Saint Kitts and Nevis.

On hailing the Snapper, Needham came on shore in the boat. He was in a state of great indignation. A fishing-boat had come alongside, when Quasho with his mate and crew had gone away in her, carrying with them a number of cocoa-nuts and gourds, which they said were to sell to the people on shore; and they had coolly left word that they should not be back till the next morning. "On this, sir," continued Dick, "I smelt a rat; and on hunting about in the forepeak, I found a cocoa-nut half full of rum. Thinks I to myself, that's just what they're going to fill the others with; and when they come back they'll be as drunk as they were last night, and we shall have to look after the craft instead of them."

"The rascals!" exclaimed Higson. "We'll go and kick them up before they've had time to do that same. What do you say, boys?"

All were ready to accompany him, but Higson insisted that Tom and Gerald and Archy should go on board and wait till he and the rest returned with the runaways. "You can loose the sails and get ready for weighing as the wind is off-shore. We shan't be long, depend on that," he said, as he and the rest turned to make their way towards one of the huts, where they hoped to learn what had become of Quasho and his crew.

Needham and the three youngsters returned on board, and busied themselves as they had been directed. The heat was greater than they had yet experienced since they had been in the West Indies, and they were thankful to see the sun set, albeit, in an unusually ruddy glow, hoping that it would be cooler at night. The wind had dropped completely. There was little prospect of putting to sea that night.

"I don't half like the look of the weather, Mr Rogers," said Needham to Tom, who had remained with him on deck, while Gerald and Archy were making preparations for supper below. "I wish we were in a snugger berth, where we could moor ship—that I do."

"Why the water is as calm as a millpond. I don't see how we can come to any harm," answered Tom. The words were scarcely out of his mouth, when, with the suddenness of a clap of thunder a fearfully loud rushing sound was heard, as if the top of the mountain was hurtling down on their heads. The next instant they were lifted almost off their legs, and had they not clutched the shrouds they would have been carried overboard. The breath of the hurricane was upon them. The loosened canvas blew out and flapped wildly—the little vessel strained desperately at her anchor, while the water hissed and foamed round her bows. Gerald and Archy wondering what had happened, came rushing up from below.

"What's to be done?" they both asked.

"The first thing is to get the mainsail and foresail stowed, and then to strike the topmast," answered Needham.

With their united strength it was no easy matter to secure the mainsail. It was done, however, in a way, when Needham casting his eyes towards the shore, exclaimed—

"The drogher is drifting—we must veer out more cable!"

There were not many fathoms to spare. The fury of the blast, however, had somewhat decreased, and the vessel appeared to be stationary. Needham hurried aloft, and while the midshipmen hauled on the heel-rope of the topmast—the shrouds and stays being slacked—he tugged away at the fid. He had just got it out, when a second blast as furious as the first burst on them—a loud report was heard. Ned slid down like lightning from aloft, and sprang aft to the helm. Tom, who had run forward, exclaimed—

"The cable has parted!"

"I know it," answered Ned. "Hoist a foot of the foresail, Mr Rogers."

The drogher spun round like a top, and off she flew before the hurricane.

"Hadn't we better jump into the boat, and let the vessel go?" asked Archy.

"We could never pull to shore in the teeth of this wind, sir," answered Needham. "We can't get her on board, or tow her either—we must let her go."

Meantime, Tom and Gerald had been busy in stowing the fore-sail and securing the topmast shrouds and stays. As they looked aft for an instant, they could just distinguish some figures on the shore; but amid the wild tumult, no voices could be heard had they shouted ever so loudly. Needham now called Tom and Gerald to take the helm while he tried to find a storm staysail, hoping with a couple of feet of it set to be able to scud before the hurricane.

"It's our only chance," he said, "we've no hope of beating back till it's over—and the wider berth we give the island the better; for if the wind shifts we may be blown right on it, and lose the craft and our own lives too."

The prospect was an appalling one—but the midshipmen did not lose heart. Away flew the drogher amid the roaring seas into the pitchy darkness, which now settled down over the ocean.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

A BALL AT ANTIGUA—A HURRICANE PUTS A STOP TO THE DANCING—A RIDE THROUGH THE STORM—MURRAY'S RIDE WITH STELLA, AND A DECLARATION—COLONEL O'REGAN AND HIS DAUGHTER SAIL IN THE SARAH JANE.

The inhabitants of Antigua are noted for their hospitality. The officers of the two ships received as many invitations as they could accept, with the loan of horses whenever they chose to ride. They lived on shore in airy barracks—far pleasanter quarters than the close cabins of the ships afforded. The colonel and his daughter were living at a cottage in the neighbourhood. Murray was Stella's constant attendant when she rode, and a frequent visitor at the cottage. If her father remarked the attention paid her by the young lieutenant, he did not consider it necessary to interfere. Perhaps he had ascertained that Murray was well off, and thought it best to let matters take their course; or, perhaps, absorbed in his own schemes, it did not occur to him that his daughter, who seemed so devoted to the cause he advocated, could do so weak a thing as fall in love. At all events, Alick lived in an elysium partly created by his imagination, and did not allow the future to interfere with his present happiness. Jack and Adair still thought Stella very charming, but, observing Alick's devotion to her, they would have considered it a gross breach of friendship to attempt cutting him out. She had other admirers, but she certainly gave them no encouragement. The midshipmen of the frigate thought their captain spoony, and the captain's clerk of the Tudor was guilty of a most reprehensible breach of confidence, if he spoke the truth, in whispering that he had one day discovered on the commander's desk a sonnet addressed to Stella's eyebrow. The fact, however, was doubted, as Captain Babbicome had never been suspected of possessing the slightest poetical talent, nor had a book of poetry ever been seen in his cabin.

"Still," insisted the clerk, "love can work wonders. It must have been poetry, for the lines all began with capitals, and were written in the middle of the page."

At length the ball took place. The Antiguan young ladies were full of life and spirit, and danced to perfection, never getting tired, so that the officers had no lack of partners, and voted it great fun. There were many very pretty girls among them, and several with much more of the rose on their cheeks than usually falls to the share of West Indian damsels. Some censorious critic even ventured to hint that it was added by the hand of art. That this was false was evident, for the weather was so hot that had rouge been used it would have inevitably been detected; but the island damsels trusted to their good figures and features, and their lively manners and conversation, rather than to any meretricious charms, to win admiration. Stella was generally considered the most charming of the maidens present, as undoubtedly she was the most blooming, and she seemed to enjoy the ball as much as any one. She danced with Captain Hemming, and went through a quadrille with Commander Babbicome. He then entreated her to perform a valse with him. Laughing heartily, she advised him not to make the attempt. Even the quiet dance had reduced him to a melting mood.

"Why, you have valsed twice with my second lieutenant," he remarked, his choler rising.

Stella gave him a look which might have shown him that he had better have held his tongue. The ball, which began at a primitively early hour, had been going on for some time, when a fierce blast which shook the building to its very foundations swept over it.

"A hurricane has burst on the island," was the general exclamation. "Will it be a heavy one?"

The increasing tempest gave the response.

The naval captains thought of their ships, the residents of their plantations. Not that there was much risk for the former, as they were snugly moored; but still it was impossible to say what might happen. Preparations were made by all the officers and several of the gentlemen for instant departure; but, of course, the ladies could not face the tempest. Most of them, however, had not much heart for dancing, when, possibly, before morning their houses would be roofless and their fathers' plantations laid low. A few persevered, in spite of the whirlwind raging over their heads, but even they had at length to give up. Their host insisted on all his female guests remaining. Cloaks and shawls were collected, and sofas and chairs brought into the ball-room, which was turned into a dormitory for those who could not be accommodated in the other rooms. Stella wanted to accompany her father, and was with difficulty persuaded to remain. Murray offered to ride back as soon as the gale was over to escort her, and she smiled her consent. The colonel declared that he must go to look after his friends and their cottage, for he had no other excuse to offer. The officers started on horseback, but they could with difficulty sit their steeds or keep their naval cloaks around them as they faced the hurricane. Poor Commander Babbicome had a hard task to perform, as his struggling steed plunged forward in the darkness; and Jack and Adair, who in compassion rode up to his assistance, found him clutching tightly by the animal's mane, as he shouted out—

"Steady, now—steady, you brute! What is the wind about that it cannot let a man sit his horse in quiet?"

It was no easy matter, however, for the best of horsemen to keep their seats, and in the more exposed situations it seemed as if rider and steed would be blown over together. Leaves, dust, stones, branches of trees, and even heavier objects, came rushing through the air in dense clouds, striking the travellers and obscuring their sight, so that it was often impossible to see where they were going. The colonel seemed to revel in the wild uproar of the elements, and led the way through the darkness, shouting to his companions to follow. They were passing along a part of the road with tall trees on either side. The dark branches above their heads could be seen waving wildly to and fro, the tops bending before the blast. Ever and anon huge boughs were torn off, and several fell, sometimes in front, sometimes directly behind them, but no one had been struck. Then there came a fearful crash. A large tree had fallen directly in front of them. Jack thought that the colonel had been crushed; but no, there he was, sitting his horse as upright as ever. He had had a narrow escape, though.

"On, friends, on," he shouted. "It is more hazardous to stop than to push forward."

And he leapt his steed over the trunk. Captain Hemming and Murray followed, their horses scrambling rather than leaping over the impediment. Jack and Adair might have done the same, but they would not desert the commander of the Tudor, by this time well-nigh frightened out of his wits. Several of the rest who made the attempt toppled over with their beasts on their heads.

"Leap, my good fellows? I could no more do it than fly!" exclaimed Commander Babbicome, when he came to the tree.

"You had better climb over, and I'll bring your horse after you," said Jack.

"If I get off, I shall never get on again," cried the commander. "Bless my heart, what shall I do?"

"Better try than run the chance of being crushed here," said Jack.

At that moment another of the waving trees came crashing down close behind them, cutting off all retreat had it been contemplated. At the sound off tumbled Commander Babbicome; and in another instant, with more agility than he generally displayed, he had scrambled over the trunk, and pitched right in among the men and horses, struggling to get on their legs on the other side. Happily no one was much hurt, and some of his officers having assisted to place him on his feet, he set off running as fast as his legs could carry him. His steed, relieved of its burden, urged by Jack and Terence, got over better than the rest; and when they at length overtook him, they managed to hoist him again into his saddle. Though he cut a somewhat undignified figure on this occasion they had no inclination to laugh at him, for they believed him to be as brave as most men under ordinary circumstances on the deck of his ship. They were both, too, very anxious about Tom and Gerald, and they could only hope that if the drogher had not returned she was safe in some other port. Battered and bruised, though they had escaped any serious accident, the party at length reached the harbour. The officers who had remained behind and all the men to be found had hurried on board the ships directly the hurricane burst; additional hawsers had been got out; the topmasts had been struck, and everything necessary had been done. It was rather provoking to find that they might have remained on at the ball, but satisfactory to feel that all was right, and that they had done their duty. In almost any other harbour in the West Indies the case might have been very different. They, of course, spent the rest of the night on board.

Nothing had been seen of the drogher, and Jack and Adair agreed that should she not appear in two or three days they would get leave to go in search of her. She might have been wrecked on one of the neighbouring islands, and the party on board be unable to obtain the means of returning. By noon the next day the hurricane had ceased, and Murray accompanied Colonel O'Regan to Saint John's, followed by a servant leading Stella's horse, and carrying her riding-habit. In every direction the havoc caused by the storm was visible; cottages blown down or unroofed, sugar-canes laid low, fruit-trees upturned or stripped of their fruit; in many places the road was almost impassable; but labourers were at work with saws and axes clearing away the trunks which lay across it. In the evening, when the air was comparatively cool and refreshing, Murray rode back with Stella. The colonel was detained by a person on business just as they were setting off, and begged that they would ride on, saying that he would overtake them. Alick said more than he had ever before ventured to do. Stella turned away her head while he was speaking; then, lifting her eyes to his face with an expression in hers certainly not of annoyance or anger, she answered—

"You have your profession, Mr Murray. You assuredly do not contemplate quitting that, and I am the daughter of one the world calls an adventurer. I cannot desert him while he allows me to bear him company, and I know not in what direction his fate may lead him. Perchance your regard for me may prove but a passing fancy, and you would regret having bound yourself to one whom, after we part on this occasion, you may not meet again for years, when she may be so changed, as everything we see around us changes, that you would not recognise her. I know too well that this has been the case with others—why not with us?"

Her voice trembled as she uttered the last sentences. Murray urged every plea which his honest affection prompted. He had no fears of what she dreaded. He trusted that before long he should obtain his promotion, and then, in these piping times of peace, he might expect to remain for some time on shore, and be able to occupy his Highland home.

"I dare not pledge my troth, but there is no one for whose happiness I can more earnestly pray," said Stella, looking at him with her bright eyes beaming as the most ardent lover could desire. Will that satisfy you?

"Yes, dearest Stella because I know that you would not trifle with one who has given you a true and faithful heart," answered Alick. He had never before uttered such words, and the tone of his voice showed the deep feeling which prompted them.

"I believe you," she said simply.

Alick would rather have had a more demonstrative reply. A rough road strewn with branches, and other impediments to their progress, was not favourable for such a conversation. Still, as Stella had not objected to the terms he had applied to her, he had no reason to complain. They rode on for some time in silence. Stella was the first to break it.

"Mr Murray, you need not feel yourself bound to speak to my father on the subject, indeed I would rather you should not," she said. "He pays me the compliment of putting full confidence in my discretion, and leaves me to act as I consider right. I suspect that his affection prevents him from believing me otherwise than perfect, and he thinks, consequently, that I am incapable of doing anything of which he would not approve."

"In my eyes, too, you are perfect, Stella," said Alick. "That by your own reasoning is the best proof of affection."

"I do not doubt yours, Mr Murray, I am sure of it, and I am more than grateful," answered Stella, looking up at him. "Still affection should not blind us to the faults of those we love, as in time the tinsel must wear off our idols, and disappointment, if not a painful reaction, will be the result."

"But all idols are not tinselled," said Alick. "The spotless Parian marble—"

"I object altogether to idol worship," interrupted Stella. "I desire to be loved for myself, I own, but I would be so with all my faults and failings known. Could I be sure of them I would tell them to you, but I cannot boast of having attained to the height of wisdom, and learnt to know myself. I must leave to you the task of discovering them, and the means for their correction; only let me entreat you to believe that they exist, and perhaps are more numerous than you will think possible."

Of course Alick very sincerely protested that Stella and imperfection could not be named together, except as contrasts, for he truly thought so. She sighed, and then smiled, and the colonel cantering up cut short the interesting conversation—interesting to the two persons concerned, at all events.

"Stella, I find that we must start for Jamaica immediately," he said. "If Captain Hemming cannot proceed there, we shall be compelled to go by another vessel. A brig now in the harbour, I understand, sails for Port Royal to-morrow; and though I would defer our departure for three days longer, unless either of the men-of-war is to sail by the end of that time, we must not lose the present opportunity."

"So soon!" ejaculated Stella. She said no more, for she no more thought of inquiring the motive of her father's actions than of opposing his wishes. Alick watched her countenance. It was graver and more sad than he had ever seen it. Her lip quivered, but with a strong effort she recovered herself, though she did not venture to trust her voice. Alick knew that Captain Hemming would not sail before the return of the drogher with his midshipmen, or should she not appear until he had endeavoured to ascertain their fate. The colonel asked Murray's opinion. Alick gave it, but advised him to apply to Captain Hemming on the possibility of his sending the Tudor on to Jamaica before the frigate. His heart beat with hope that this might be done, and Stella's countenance brightened when he spoke of it.

Their friends, the Houghtons, with whom Stella and her father were staying, were much concerned when they heard of his determination.

"But must your daughter accompany you, colonel?" asked Mrs Houghton, a good-natured, motherly dame, whose daughters were all married. "We shall be delighted if Stella will remain with us, and we will find her an escort when the frigate sails; though, for my part, I would not hesitate to send a daughter of mine and a female attendant without one."

Stella did not express her thanks for this proposal with the warmth which might have been expected. The colonel accompanied Murray to the barracks, where they found the two captains. The colonel stated his wishes. Captain Hemming regretted that he could not sail in time to suit his convenience, but if Miss O'Regan would remain with the Houghtons he should be delighted to give her and her attendant a passage, and any lady who might be able to accompany her. He would, however, consult Commander Babbicome and ascertain whether the Tudor could be got ready for sea in time. Commander Babbicome was mute. When the colonel had gone, he expressed himself somewhat strongly to his superior.

"He had heard reports concerning Colonel O'Regan's schemes, and he had no wish to commit himself by carrying such a person on board his ship— charming as Miss O'Regan might be considered by some. He did not always go with the herd."

The captain of the frigate could send the Tudor to sea, but he could not compel her commander to give up his cabin to passengers, so he did not press the point. It would have been better for Commander Babbicome had he been more courteous, but no more than other mortals could he foresee what the future was to bring forth.

Colonel O'Regan went on board the brig Sarah Jane. Though of so unwarlike a name, she was a large rakish craft, evidently very fast, with square yards and taunt masts, well fitted for a blockade-runner or any work of that description; and her skipper, a dark, big-whiskered fellow, looked the man fit to command her. He and the colonel shook hands as if they had before been acquainted, and had a long conversation.

"Under the circumstances, colonel, we'll clear out for Portobello instead of Port Royal," he said, laughing; "for as you know we have a roving commission, and we may find a better market for our goods on the Spanish Main than at a British port. I expect to fall in with the sloop to the westward of Saint Kitt's, when we may get some stores from her and proceed in company."

The colonel having concluded his arrangements, returned to the cottage. Stella evinced no surprise when he communicated his change of plan.

"Am I to accompany you?" she asked in a faltering voice, while her cheek became paler than usual. At one time she would have entreated to be allowed to go without asking whither.

"As the cabins of the brig are commodious, and the frigate is not likely to sail for some time, I shall be glad of your society," answered the colonel, not remarking her increasing agitation.

"Should the state of affairs not be more propitious than of late, I intend returning forthwith to Jamaica, where I will leave you with your relatives, the Bradshaws, while I go back once more to await the course of events. You will thus, probably, reach Jamaica sooner than you would have done had you waited for these laggard men-of-war."

Stella had become calm again while her father uttered the last sentences. She expressed her readiness to do as he wished, and said, truly, that she wished ever to be with him; though she might have added, that she pined for the time when he would be content to abandon his schemes, and settle in some quiet home either in Britain or one of her colonies, as he had at times talked of doing when his restless spirit was for a time quelled by weariness or disappointment.

Kind Mr and Mrs Houghton pressed her to remain with them, and to go on to Jamaica in the frigate. They feared, with good reason, that Stella would be exposed to all sorts of dangers if she accompanied the colonel; they had no confidence in his schemes, and they thought him very wrong in wishing to take her with him, though they did not tell her so.

"I will assist you, my dear, to get over one of your difficulties, for I dare say you do not think it quite the thing to be alone on board the frigate without a chaperone," exclaimed Mrs Houghton, coming into Stella's room. "I have long promised to pay a visit to my daughter Julia and her husband, whose estate is next to the Bradshaws, and I intend to ask Captain Hemming to give me a passage. What do you say, Stella? Your father cannot object to my plan—it is so evidently the right one. Shall I tell him that you agree to it?"

It was a severe trial for Stella, but she was resolute in doing what she believed to be her duty. She thanked Mrs Houghton warmly for her kindness. She was, however, under orders. As a soldier's daughter she had learnt obedience. Unless her father commanded her to remain at Antigua, she must embark in the brig. What effect the arguments of Alick Murray might have produced, it is impossible to say. He, unfortunately, was detained by duty on board the corvette, and did not reach the cottage till late in the evening, not aware of Colonel O'Regan's altered plans. He was thunderstruck when he heard of them, and very much inclined to quarrel with the colonel, who did not seem to be aware that he was inducing his daughter to make any unusual sacrifice.

Thanks to Mrs Houghton's management, Alick and Stella were alone for a short time. She did not disguise from him how much the parting cost her, but entreated him to keep up his spirits in the hope that they might soon again meet in Jamaica. Alick, with Rogers and Adair, accompanied Stella and the colonel on board the brig the next morning. The two latter knew that they were not intruding on their friend. They warmly entered into his feelings, though they might have doubted that Stella's affection for him was as deep as he supposed, especially when they observed her tearless eye and calm manner when she parted from him. Their boat remained alongside till the brig was well out of the harbour. As long as any one could be discerned on board, a figure was seen standing at the stern watching them as they pulled back. Alick did not speak. All seemed a dream to him; but yesterday, he thought himself the happiest of mortals. Now Stella was gone, and to what fearful dangers might she not be exposed! Rogers and Adair wished to divert his thoughts, and began to talk of the missing midshipmen. "The captain gives them three days more, and if the drogher does not appear at the end of that time, he intends to send the Tudor to look for them," said Jack. "I regret allowing Tom to go, for when a number of youngsters are together they are sure to get into mischief."

"We found it so occasionally in our younger days to be sure," observed Adair. "I, too, am sorry I let Gerald go; however, Higson is a steady fellow, and I hope has taken good care of them."

"When Houghton heard that we were becoming anxious about the youngsters, he offered to send his schooner, the Swordfish, to look for them," observed Murray, rousing himself up. "If I can get leave from Babbicome, and I am sure he will give it to escape having to take the Tudor to sea, I will go in the schooner. She is far better fitted for cruising among the islands than the corvette, and will be more likely to find the drogher."

"A good idea of yours, Alick, and I will go with you, as I am sure to get leave," said Jack.

Adair wished that he could go also, but he and Rogers could not be away from the ship together for any length of time. Jack and Terence, like true friends, stuck close to Alick for the remainder of the day, doing their utmost to keep him from brooding over his unhappiness. His feelings, they knew, were too deep to allow them to banter him, as they would probably have done under ordinary circumstances.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

CRUISE IN THE SCHOONER IN SEARCH OF THE MISSING MIDSHIPMEN—CALL AT SABA AND FIND HIGSON—DISCOVER THE WRECK OF THE DROGHER DESERTED—RETURN UNSUCCESSFUL—THE MIDSHIPMEN MOURNED AS LOST—THE FRIGATE AND CORVETTE SAIL FOR JAMAICA—A BOY OVERBOARD—A HURRICANE AT SEA—THE CORVETTE DISMASTED—MAN LOST—DANGEROUS POSITION OF CORVETTE—THE FRIGATE PREPARED WEATHERS THE HURRICANE—ANXIETY ABOUT THE CORVETTE—THE FRIGATE'S SEARCH FOR HER.

The next day and the next passed—the drogher did not appear, and the two captains became as anxious as were the three lieutenants to ascertain the fate of their midshipmen.

"If you wish to go I will spare you for a few days," said Captain Hemming to Adair.

Accordingly all three sailed in the Swordfish. Having ascertained that the midshipmen intended visiting Barbuda, they first steered for that island. There was a good stiff breeze, and as the Swordfish was a fast craft, she rapidly ran over the thirty miles of water which intervenes between Antigua and its small dependency. It was not, however, all plain sailing, as numerous shoals, reefs, and rocks surround the island mostly below the surface, some only showing their black pates, while from its slight elevation above the ocean at the distance of less than four miles it was scarcely visible. A negro standing on the bowsprit end, and holding on by the stay, piloted the schooner, giving his directions to the man at the helm in a sharp, loud voice—

"Lub ou may—all ou can! steady! starboard. Keep her away! steady! lub, lub, lub, for ou life!" he screamed out, waving his hand to enforce his orders. The schooner just scraped clear of a rock, round which the water hissed and bubbled, and the pilot once more subsided into his ordinary calmness.

"Not a pleasant spot to find under one's lee in a gale of wind on a dark night," observed Terence. "It proves, however, that the crew of the drogher must have been sober, or they could not have found their way clear of it."

The schooner at length came to an anchor, and a messenger was sent off to the overseer, who kindly came down at once and told them that he had seen the drogher outside the reefs, and standing to the westward. He pressed them to remain and partake of such hospitality as he could offer; but eager to pursue their search they declined his invitation, and the schooner was quickly again threading her way amid the shoals out to sea. It was a question whether the drogher had continued her course due west, or had steered northward to Saint Barts, or southward to Saint Eustatia, or Saint Kitts. They finally decided after examining the chart, to stand to the westward, and call off Saba. As they approached the island a fishing-boat was seen standing out towards the schooner, which was therefore hove to, to let her come alongside.

"I see Higson, and some of the others, but all I fear are not there," said Jack, who had been watching the boat through his glass, in a tone which showed his anxiety. Higson was soon on board. He gave a full account of what had happened.

"I would sooner have lost my own life than allowed any harm to happen to the youngsters," he added. "Still I have hopes that they may have escaped. Needham is a prime seaman, and he will have done what was possible to keep the drogher afloat, though they were sadly short-handed, I own. Still if the craft has not foundered, as they had plenty of provisions and water aboard we may expect to see them again, not the worse for their cruise. We have all been on the look-out, hoping to see her beating up to the island. You'll not blame me, Mr Rogers, more than I deserve, and I couldn't help it, you may depend on that."

The old mate as he spoke well-nigh burst into tears. Jack and the other lieutenants assured him that they did not see how he could be blamed, and they then set to work to consider what was best to be done. They first compared notes, and agreed as to the course of the hurricane, and calculated the direction in which the drogher must have been driven, and the distance she had probably gone, recollecting that as she had been carried with the wind she must have been exposed to its fury for a much longer time than those on shore.

"If it had not been for that they ought to have made their way back long before this," observed Jack.

"Perhaps they have gone to Saint Eustatia or Saint Kitts," remarked Murray.

"I am very sure, sir, that for our sakes they would have done their best to make Saba," said Higson. "If they could have helped it they would not have deserted us."

Jack, as senior officer, had to decide, and he determined, therefore, to steer to the south-west for a couple of days, keeping a bright look-out on either hand, and then to beat back to Antigua, thus going over a wide extent of sea. It would occupy them a week or more, but Captain Hemming they knew would not object to the delay. Captain Quasho and his crew as a punishment were left to find their way back as best they could, and the schooner stood away in the direction proposed. During the day Higson or one of the midshipmen was at the masthead, keeping a look-out on every side. At night sail was shortened, and the schooner stood backwards and forwards, now to the northward, now to the southward, so that no risk might be run of passing the drogher in the dark. Three or four vessels were fallen in with, but the same answer was received from all. They had seen nothing of the missing craft. Under other circumstances they would have been very jolly, for they had a good supply of West Indian delicacies, put on board by the owner of the vessel, and had nothing to do but to eat and smoke when they felt inclined; but they were much too anxious to enjoy themselves.

For another whole day they stood on. Still not a sign of the drogher. Jack felt greatly inclined to continue the search for a third day. He reflected, however, on the risk of doing so. It would take very much longer beating back, and should light winds prevail they might run short of water and provisions; and though he was ready to undergo any dangers himself, with the prospect of recovering his brother, he had no right, he felt, to expose others to them. There was also the possibility of having to encounter another hurricane, which might try the schooner, capital sea-boat as she appeared to be. The weather had again become threatening—dark clouds collected overhead—the wind fell, and as the little vessel lay roiling her sides under the glass, like swell, down came the rain, not a mere sprinkling, like that of northern latitudes, but in a perfect deluge, the huge drops leaping up as they fell, and flooding the deck. Those who could took refuge below; the rest were wet to the skin before they could get on their great coats. Just before sunset a breeze sprang up, and the clouds clearing away left the horizon more defined and distinct even than usual. Jack himself went aloft to take a look round, and consider whether he should haul up at once, and commence the long beat to Antigua, or stand on for a few hours longer. He had already swept his glass round on every side when, as he turned it once more towards the south-west, just clear of the setting sun, his eye fell on a dark object almost on the very verge of the horizon. It seemed a mere speck, though it might, he thought, be a dead whale, or a piece of wreck, or only a mass of floating seaweed. His directions to the man at the helm to steer for it called all hands on deck, and several came aloft—various opinions were expressed. Old Higson was positive that it was part of a wreck of some unfortunate vessel lost in the late hurricane, or the whole hull of a small craft dismasted. The breeze freshened, and hopes were entertained that they might get up to it before darkness settled down over the deep. It could soon be seen from the deck.

"I knew that I was right, and I wish from my soul I wasn't," exclaimed Higson, as he looked steadily through his glass. "That's a small craft on her beam ends, and it's my belief that she's the Snapper!"

"I trust not," said Rogers, who overheard him. "If she is the Snapper, what has become of the poor youngsters?"

"Perhaps they are still clinging to her, sir," answered Higson. "I have known men hold out on board a craft in as bad a position as she is in."

"But they are boys, and must have succumbed to hunger and thirst, even if they escaped being washed overboard when the craft capsized," observed Murray, who was not inclined just then to take a hopeful view of matters.

"I'd trust to my nephew holding out as long as any youngster ever did," said Adair. "The others have not less pluck in them."

"I see no signal, and as they must have made us out long ago if they were aboard I fear they are gone," sighed Jack.

"Faith, it's likely enough they have nothing to make one with," observed Adair. "I'll not believe they are lost."

Every glass on board was continually kept turned towards the object ahead. As the schooner approached, however, no one could be discovered on board. It was nearly dark by the time she got up with it. Several voices on board the schooner hailed, but no reply came. She hove to, and a boat was lowered. Jack, Terence, and Higson jumped into her.

"Hand a lantern here," cried Higson, as they were shoving off. They were quickly alongside the hapless craft. It was then seen that she had been capsized with her sails set, which, with the mast and rigging, assisted to keep her in her present position. Probably also her ballast having shifted contributed to do so, as she was only partially filled with water. Not a human being, however, was visible. Higson, seizing the lantern, leaped on board, and climbed up to the companion hatch. Jack and Adair were about to follow, but they, observing that even his weight made the water flow over the bulwarks, saw that it would be more prudent to let him search alone. They waited for him anxiously. He quickly put his head up the hatchway.

"She's the Snapper—no doubt about that; but there's not a soul aft," he exclaimed. "At all events, however, they were not starved, for there are plenty of provisions in the locker."

Having let himself down into the hold, holding on to the coaming with one hand, he stretched out the other with the lantern, so as to let its light fall on every side. No one was there. He then made his way into the fore-peak. It seemed to Jack that he was a long time absent, though in reality scarcely a minute passed before he scrambled out again.

"What has become of the youngsters I can't say, but on board this craft they are not; nor is their monkey Spider, who with his long tail to hold on by was not likely to be washed overboard," he exclaimed, as he sprang back into the boat. "The sooner we shove off the better, for she is filling fast, and may go to the bottom at any moment."

"I can't bear to leave her though without having a look round," said Jack, taking the lantern from Higson.

He made his way into the little cabin, and was soon convinced that Higson was right. Not a trace of the midshipmen could he see. He searched the hold and the fore-peak. They were not there, dead or alive. Jack came back to the boat and sat down, feeling very sorrowful.

"Let me go in again," said the old mate, as he took the lantern.

He was back very soon with three small carpet-bags in his hand.

"Be sharp," cried Adair. "She is going down!"

He spoke truly. Higson made a leap into the boat, which shoved off just as the drogher, giving a slight roll, sank from sight. The crew pulled away from her.

"I could only find my own and two other fellows' bags," said Higson. "The others must have slipped down into the water."

The boat at once returned to the schooner with the sad intelligence. Norris and the master's-assistant were very glad to get back their carpet-bags. Their recovery, it is possible, somewhat consoled them for the loss of their young messmates. They, at all events, congratulated themselves that they had not been on board the drogher when she was blown away from Saba.

Jack, who loved his brother dearly, was very much grieved at his loss; so was Terence for Gerald, though he thought most of the sorrow his sister would suffer when she heard of her boy's death.

"Arrah now; I wish that I'd let him stay at home and turn farmer; but then, to be sure, he might have been after breaking his neck out hunting, so it comes to the same thing in the end," he exclaimed, with as near an approach to a sigh as he ever uttered. "Och, ahone, poor Nora, the sweet cratur! and I not able to bring her back the boy."

Murray was less demonstrative, but he knew that young Archy would be truly mourned for in his distant highland home.

The schooner now commenced her long beat back to Antigua. There was every prospect of its being a tedious business; but there was a fresh breeze, and by carrying on, though the top-masts bent like willow-wands, English Harbour was gained at length. Captain Hemming felt the loss of his midshipmen; but when the matter was explained to him, he acquitted old Higson of all blame.

"Only I will never, as long as I command a ship, allow my midshipmen to go away for their amusement by themselves," he observed. "They run risks enough as it is in the course of duty."

This being reported in the berth made Norris and others very angry, and they were much inclined to abuse poor Tom and Gerald for getting drowned, and thus being the cause of the restriction likely to be placed on their liberty.

The two ships were now ready for sea. Murray went to pay a farewell visit to the Houghtons. Kind Mrs Houghton—who, for Stella's sake as well as his own, took a warm interest in him, for she having keener eyes than the colonel, knew perfectly well that they were engaged—had letters of introduction ready to her daughter Mrs Raven, to the Bradshaws, Stella's relatives, and to other friends.

"You'll receive a hearty welcome, and I have just hinted how matters stand. They agree with us that the colonel has no right to be dragging his daughter about in the way he does, and will be thankful to see her placed under the guardianship of one who will take better care of her than, in my humble opinion, her father does."

Alick was duly grateful, and said all that was proper, though he wished that his friend had not mentioned the matter she alluded to, as he felt somewhat nervous at the thought of appearing before strangers in the character of a melancholy lover.

"However, if there are any young ladies among them, they'll not expect me to pay them attentions," he thought.