"As to that, Mr Gaffin, God placed her under our charge, and we intend to do our duty by her," answered Adam, firmly.

"Your duty would be to obtain for her every opportunity of retaining the position in which she was born," said Gaffin. "That's no common person's child."

"Maybe she is not; but, as I said before, we will do our best. More than that we cannot do," answered Adam.

"Now, my friend, I have a proposal to make," said Gaffin, speaking in as frank a tone as he could assume. "She will be a heavy burden to you some time hence, if she is not so at present; my wife and I, as you know, have no daughter, although, like you, we have three sons. We are more independent of the world than you are, as my wife had money; you will understand, though, I do not eat the bread of idleness; and as she would very much like to have a little girl to bring up to be her companion when our boys are away, we are willing to take charge of that child and adopt her, should her friends not be discovered. To show you that I am in earnest, here are five guineas as payment to you for going off and bringing her on shore in the gallant way I understand you did. It's a trifling reward, I own, but if I have the power I will increase it should you accept my offer."

Adam stood with his hands in his pockets as he had been doing while his visitor was speaking.

"Keep your money, Mr Gaffin, for when it may be required," he answered, quietly. "My lads and I only did our duty, and what any one with the heart of a man would have tried to do. That little maiden has been placed in my charge, and until her rightful friends appear, my wife and I will take care of her without looking for payment or reward. You have our answer, I speak for myself and dame; there is no use wasting more time in talking about the matter."

"Well, well, neighbour, I cannot take your reply as conclusive," said Gaffin, trying to conceal his annoyance; "just think it over, and you will be doing a great pleasure to my wife and lay us under an obligation if you agree to my proposal."

Adam had given his reply, and was determined to say nothing more. He was anxious, too, to get rid of his guest.

Gaffin at length, finding that he could gain nothing by staying, rose to leave the cottage. The dame took up May and retired with her to the farther end of the room, while Adam stood as before with his hand firmly thrust down into his pocket, as if determined not to shake that of his departing guest, while Jacob opened the door as wide as he could. Gaffin, unabashed, nodded to the fisherman and his dame, and with a swagger in his walk to conceal the irritation he felt, left the cottage. Jacob watched him till he had got to some distance.

"He has gone," he exclaimed. "He shall not have our Maiden May if I can prevent him."

"No fear of that, Jacob. He, with his cursing and swearing, and his wild, lawless ways, and his poor heart-broken, down-spirited wife, bring up a little maid in the way she should go! She would be better off with us as long as we had a crust to give her; and take her from us he shall not, whatever reasons he may have for wishing it. So don't you fear, Jacob, that I will listen to him even if he comes with 50 in his hand, or 500 for that matter. As I said before, if we don't find fairer friends for her than he and his wife are like to prove, Maiden May shall be our child, bless her."



CHAPTER NINE.

A SAIL IN THE NANCY.

Captain Fancourt took his departure from Portsmouth to commission the Triton, promising to send for Harry as soon as the frigate was sufficiently advanced to give a midshipman anything to do on board.

"I will ride by a single anchor, so as to be ready to slip at a moment's notice," answered Harry.

Harry recollected his engagement to take a cruise in Adam Halliburt's boat.

"Come, Algernon," he said to his elder brother, a tall, slight youth, three or four years his senior, with remarkably refined manners, "you would enjoy a trip to sea for a few hours in the Nancy. It would give you something to talk about when you go to college, and you have never been on salt water in your life."

"Thank you," said Algernon. "I do not wish to gain my first experience of sea life in a fishing boat."

"I want to see how these fishermen live, and I should have been glad of your company," answered Harry; "but perhaps you would find it rather too rough a life for your taste, so I will go alone, and to-morrow when I return I will ride with you wherever you like."

Harry, after luncheon, set off on his pony to Hurlston, while Algernon accompanied his mother and the two Miss Pembertons in the carriage to the same village, where they wished to look at a cottage which Sir Reginald had told them was to be let, and which they had proposed, should it suit them, to take. They were much pleased with its appearance. It stood on the higher ground above the village, surrounded by shrubberies, in an opening through which a view of the sea was obtained. On one side was a pretty flower-garden, and as Miss Pemberton led her sister through the rooms and about the grounds describing the place, they agreed that had it been built for them they could not have been more thoroughly satisfied. Mr Groocock therefore received directions to secure Downside Cottage, and they determined to occupy it as soon as it could be got ready for them.

Sir Reginald, on hearing of the decision of the Miss Pembertons, invited them to remain in the meantime at Texford, where he hoped, even after they were settled, they would become constant visitors.

"I am getting an old man now, and as I cannot hunt or attend to my magisterial duties, I am grateful to friends who will come and see me, and you have only to send over a note and my carriage will be at your disposal."

Miss Pemberton assured Sir Reginald that one of their chief inducements in taking the cottage was to be near a kinsman whom they so greatly esteemed.

Mrs Castleton the next morning had become anxious at the non-appearance of Harry. She had not heard of his intention of remaining out during the night till Algernon told her. He agreed to ride down to Hurlston to ascertain if the boat had returned, and as the Miss Pembertons wished to pay another visit to the cottage, the carriage was ordered and Mrs Castleton accompanied them.

The weather, as it frequently does in our variable English climate, had suddenly changed by the morning, and although it had been calm during the night, by the time the ladies reached Hurlston a strong east wind sent the surf rolling up on the beach in a way which to the ladies, unaccustomed to the sea-side, appeared very terrible. Algernon, who was on horseback, met them.

"The boat Harry went out in has not come back," he observed; "but as the fishing-boats generally return about this hour, she will probably soon be in."

Mrs Castleton, her anxiety increased by the appearance of the weather, begged her companions to wait.

"Is that the boat?" she asked, pointing to a sail approaching the shore.

"I think not—that seems a large vessel," answered Algernon, and he rode towards the pier, where a number of people were collected, while others were coming from various directions. There seemed some excitement among them. They were watching the ship observed by Mrs Castleton, which, in the distance, had to her appeared so small, though in reality a large brig.

"She brought up an hour ago in the roads, but only just now made sail again," was the answer to Algernon's question. "As she is standing for the mouth of the river she is probably leaky, and her crew are afraid of not keeping her afloat in the heavy sea now running."

Algernon watched the brig, which, under a press of canvas, came tearing along towards the mouth of the harbour; and as she drew nearer the jets of water issuing from her scuppers showed that his informant was correct in his opinion. She laboured heavily, and it seemed doubtful whether she could be kept afloat long enough to run up the harbour.

The larger fishing-boats were away, but two or three smaller ones were got ready to go out to her assistance, though with the sea then rolling in there would be considerable danger in doing so.

At length the brig drew near enough to allow the people on board to be easily distinguished. The master stood conning the vessel—the crew were at their stations. So narrow was the entrance that the greatest care and skill were required to hit it. Algernon heard great doubts expressed among the spectators as to the stranger being able to get in.

In a few seconds more, a sea bearing her on, she seemed about to rush into the harbour, when a crash was heard, the water washed over her deck, both the masts fell, and her hull, swinging round, blocked up the entrance. The men on shore rushed to their boats to render assistance to the unfortunate crew, but as the foaming seas washed them off the deck, the current which ran out of the river swept them away, and though so close to land, in sight of their fellow-creatures, not one of the hapless men was rescued.

Algernon could not repress a cry of horror.

"Oh, what will become of Harry?" exclaimed Mrs Castleton, when she saw what had occurred.

"I trust he is safe with an experienced fisherman like old Halliburt," answered Algernon. "I wish, mother, you would return home. I will bring you word as soon as he comes back."

Mrs Castleton, however, could not be persuaded to leave the shore.

At length several tiny sails were seen in the distance, and were pronounced by the people on the pier to be the returning fishing-boats. Some were seen standing away to the north to land apparently in that direction, while three steered for Hurlston.

In consequence of the mouth of the river being blocked up, Algernon found that the boats would have to run on the beach, all of them being built of a form to do this, although those belonging to Hurlston could usually take shelter in their harbour.

As the boats drew near, signals were made to warn them of what had occurred. The people in the leading boat, either not understanding the signal or fancying that there would be still room to get up the harbour, kept on, and only when close to it perceived what had occurred. On this the boat hauled her wind and attempted to stand off, so as to take the beach in the proper fashion, but a sea caught her and drove her bodily on the sands, rolling her over and sending the people struggling in the surf.

The men on shore rushed forward to help their friends.

Mrs Castleton shrieked out with terror, supposing that Harry was in the boat.

Algernon, who was not destitute of courage, rode his horse into the surf and succeeded in dragging out a man who was on the point of being carried off. Again he went in and saved another in the same way, looking anxiously round for Harry. He was nowhere to be seen, and to his relief he found that the Nancy was one of the sternmost boats. Two poor fellows in the boat were carried away, notwithstanding all the efforts made to secure them. Much of the boat's gear was lost, and she herself was greatly damaged.

"Which is the Nancy?" inquired Algernon, round whom several people were collected, eager to thank him for the courage he had just displayed.

She was pointed out to him. On she came under a close-reefed sail.

Adam, probably suspecting that something was wrong by having seen the boat haul up to get off the shore, was on the look-out for signals.

The second boat came on shore, narrowly escaping the fate of the first. Still the Nancy was to come. She was seen labouring on amid the foaming seas. Now she sank into the trough of a huge wave, which rose up astern and robed in with foam-covered crest, curling over as if about to overwhelm her. Another blast filled her sails, and just escaping the huge billow which came roaring astern, the next moment, surrounded by a mass of hissing waters, she was carried high up on the beach. Most of her active crew instantly leaped out, and joined by their friends on shore, began hauling her up the beach, when another sea rolling in nearly carried them off their legs. Harry, however, who had remained in the stern of the boat with Halliburt, leaped on shore at the moment the waters receded and escaped with a slight wetting.

As they made their way up the beach, a fair-haired, blue-eyed little girl ran out from among the crowd and threw herself, regardless of Adam's dripping garments, into his arms.

"Maidy May so glad you safe," she exclaimed, as the fisherman bestowed a kiss on her brow. "We afraid the cruel sea take you away."

"There was no great danger of that, my little maiden," answered Adam, putting her down. She then ran towards Jacob and bestowed the same affectionate greeting on him. Holding his hands, she tried to draw him away from the surf, as if afraid that, disappointed of its prey, it might still carry him off.

Harry remarked the reception the fisherman and his son met with from the interesting-looking child, and he never forgot those bright blue eyes and the animated expression of that lovely countenance.

Summoned by his brother, he now hastened to assure his mother of his safety.

"My dear boy, we have been very anxious about you," exclaimed Mrs Castleton, as he came up; "and I do hope that you will not go off again in one of those horrible little fishing-boats; you run dangers enough when on board ship in your professional duty without exposing yourself to unnecessary risk."

"I assure you I have been in no danger whatever, except, perhaps, when the boat was running in for the beach," answered Harry, laughing. "When we went off we did not expect to have to do that, and I am very sorry that you should have been anxious about me. However, I promise to remain quietly on shore till I am summoned to join my ship, and as I am somewhat damp, I will get my pony, which I left at the Castleton Arms in the village, and ride home with Algernon." The ladies accordingly, re-entering the carriage, drove towards Texford, and Harry and his brother followed soon afterwards.



CHAPTER TEN.

MAY'S NEW FRIENDS.

Harry refrained from making another trip in the Nancy, though he told Adam Halliburt that he had hoped to do so. He seldom, however, caught sight of the blue sea in his rides without wishing to be upon it.

One day he and Algernon, on a ride over the downs, passed near the old mill. Miles Gaffin was standing at the door, while behind him, tugging at a sack, was his man, whose countenance appeared to Harry, as he caught sight of it for a moment, one of the most surly and ill-favoured he had ever set eyes on. "No wonder the farmers prefer sending their corn to a distance to having it ground by such a couple," he thought. The miller took off his hat as he saw the lads. Algernon scarcely noticed the salute.

"I am sorry, young gentlemen, not to have had the pleasure of giving you a trip in my lugger," said the miller, in a frank, off-hand tone. "If, however, you and your brother are disposed to come, we will run down the coast to Harwich, or to any other place you would like to visit, and I will guarantee not to get you into such a mess as old Halliburt did, I understand, the other day."

"Thank you," said Harry, "my brother has no fancy for the salt water, and as I shall be off again to sea shortly, I cannot avail myself of your offer."

"Did any one advise you not to go on board my craft?" asked Gaffin, suddenly.

Harry hesitated.

"Adam Halliburt offered to take me a trip, and as Mr Groocock thought I should prefer the Nancy to any other craft, I arranged to go with him," he said at length.

"Ah, I guessed how it was. My neighbours are apt to say unpleasant things about me. Mr Groocock told you I was not a man to be trusted, didn't he?"

"My brother has said that he preferred the fisherman's boat," said Algernon, coming to Harry's assistance, "and I consider that you have no right to ask further why he declined your offer. Good-day to you, sir; come along, Harry," and Algernon rode on.

"Proud young cock, he crows as loudly as his father was wont to do," muttered the miller, casting an angry glance at the young gentlemen; "I shall have my revenge some day."

"I do not like the look of that fellow," observed Algernon, when they had got out of earshot of the mill. "I am glad you did not go on board his vessel."

"He seems rather free and easy in his manners, and his tone wasn't quite respectful, but I suppose his pride was hurt because I chose another man's boat instead of his," answered Harry.

"You did not observe the scowl on his countenance when he spoke," said Algernon.

Algernon evidently possessed the valuable gift of discernment of character which some can alone gain by long experience.

The family party were separating one morning after breakfast, when, the front door standing open on that warm summer day, Harry, as he passed through the hall, caught sight of Dame Halliburt approaching with her basket of fish, accompanied by the blue-eyed little girl he had seen when landing from the Nancy.

"Come here, Julia," he exclaimed. "Does not that sturdy fishwife with her little daughter trotting along by her side present a pretty picture? I wish an artist were here to take them as we see them now."

"Yes, Gainsborough would do them justice. He delights in rustic figures, though the child should have bare feet, and I see she has shoes and stockings on," answered Julia.

"The little girl would, at all events, make a sweet picture in her red cloak and hat," observed Miss Pemberton, who with her sister as they crossed the hall had heard Harry's exclamation, and had come to the door; and she described her to Miss Mary.

"I should like to speak to her. I can always best judge of people when I hear their voices," observed Miss Mary.

Harry proposed asking Dame Halliburt and the little girl to come up to the porch, but they had by this time passed on towards the back entrance.

"The dame is probably in a hurry to sell her fish and to go on her way," observed Miss Pemberton. "We will talk to her another time."

"Come, Harry, madame is ready to give you your French lesson," said Julia, and they went into the house.

Before luncheon Madame De La Motte proposed taking a walk.

"And we will talk French as we proceed. You shall learn as much as you will from your books," she said, inviting Harry to accompany her and her pupil. Harry gallantly expressed his pleasure, and they set out to take a ramble through the fields in the direction of Hurlston.

They had got to some distance, and were about to turn back, when they saw in the field beyond them the same little girl in the red cloak who had come with Dame Halliburt to the house.

Two paths branched off at the spot she had just reached. She stood uncertain apparently which to take, when, at that instant, a bull feeding in the field, irritated by the sight of her red cloak, began to paw the ground and lower his head as if about to make a rush at her. The child becoming alarmed uttered a cry, and ran in the direction of the gate near which they were standing. Harry leaped over the gate and hurried to her rescue. Seeing him coming she darted towards him.

"Throw off your cloak," he shouted.

She was too much frightened to follow his advice. The bull was close upon them when Harry reached her, and in an instant tearing off her cloak he threw it at the bull, and lifting her in his arms darted on one side, while the savage animal rushed over the spot where the moment before they had stood, and catching the cloak on its horns threw it over its head, and then stopping in its course looked round in search of the object at which it was aiming. Seeing Harry running off with the little girl, it again rushed at them. He had just time to lift her over the gate, and to spring after her, when the creature came full tilt against it.

The courage of Madame De La Motte and Julia had given way as they saw the bull coming, and believing that the gate would be broken down, they had run for safety to a high bank with a hedge above it a little on one side of the field.

"You are quite safe now, little girl," said Harry, trying to reassure the child. "See, though the bull knocked his horns against the gate, he could not throw it down, and is going off discomforted. Come, Julia, and help her," he shouted; "she has been dreadfully frightened, and not without cause."

Julia and her governess, feeling a little ashamed of themselves, descended from their safe position.

"I hope you are not hurt; but how came you to be in the field by yourself?" asked Julia, addressing the little girl.

"Mother told me to take the path across the fields while she went round by the road to call at some houses," she answered.

"To whom do you belong, and what is your name?" asked madame, looking admiringly at the child's delicate and pretty features.

"I belong to Adam Halliburt, and he calls me his Maiden May," answered the child.

"Maiden May! that is a very pretty name," observed Madame. "But you are very young to go so far alone."

"We must not let you go alone," said Harry; "I will take care of you till you meet your mother, but I will first get your cloak. I see the bull has left it on the grass, and I hope has not injured it."

"Take care, Harry," exclaimed Julia, "the bull might run at you if he sees you in the field."

"I do not mind running away from him, and I suspect I can run the fastest," answered Harry, laughing, as he leapt over the gate.

Julia and Madame De La Motte watched him anxiously, not more so, however, than did Maiden May.

"Oh, I hope he will not be hurt, I would much rather lose my cloak," she said, following him with her eyes.

The bull having gone to a distance, Harry was able to reach the little girl's cloak, and by keeping it in front of him the animal did not catch sight of it, and he soon returned with his prize.

"If you will come to the hall we will send one of the servants with you," said Julia.

"No, no," said Harry, "you go back, as you must be in at luncheon, and I will take care of the little girl."

"Thank you, thank you," repeated Maiden May, "but I am not afraid."

Harry, however, with true chivalry, though the object of his attention was but a little fisher-girl, insisted on escorting her, and at length induced his sister and her governess to return, promising to hurry back as soon as he had placed the child under Dame Halliburt's care.

They soon found the style which led into the path May should have followed. She took Harry's hand without hesitation, and as she ran along by his side, prattled with a freedom which perfect confidence could alone have given her. She talked of the time he had been off in the Nancy, and how anxious she had felt lest any harm should befall the boat.

"And you are very fond of the sea?" she said, looking up in his face.

"Yes; I am a sailor, and it is my duty to go to sea, and I love it for itself," said Harry; "I hope as you live close to it that you love it too."

"Oh no, no, no," answered May; "I do not love it, for it's so cruel, it drowns so many people. I can't love what is cruel."

"It could not be cruel to you, I am sure," said Harry. "Does your father ever take you in his boat?"

"Yes, I have been in the boat, I know, but it was a long, long time ago, and I have been on the sea far, far away."

She stopped as if she had too indistinct a recollection of the events that had occurred to describe them.

Harry was puzzled to understand to what she alluded, and naturally fancied that she spoke of some trip her father had taken her on board his boat, not doubting, of course, that she was the fisherman's daughter.

In a short time they caught sight of Dame Halliburt, when Harry, delivering Maiden May to her care, without waiting to receive her thanks hurried homewards as he had promised.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

HARRY OFF TO SEA.

A letter from Captain Fancourt at length arrived, summoning Harry to join the Triton. He bade an affectionate farewell to his kind old uncle. His brother had remarked the failing health of Sir Reginald.

"I shall be very sorry when he goes, but probably when you next come to see us, you will find us here," observed Algernon, "unless our uncle should turn up and claim the title and property, and as he has not been heard of for a long time, I do not think that likely."

"I have no wish to be here except as Sir Reginald's guest," answered Harry, with more feeling than his brother had displayed. "I hope that our old uncle will live for many a year to come."

In those times of fierce and active warfare it was far more trying to the loving ones who remained at home when the moment of departure arrived, than to the brave and gallant soldiers and sailors who were going away to fight their country's battles. They could not help reflecting how many were likely to fall in the contest, and that, though victories should be gained, their aching eyes might some day see in the list of killed or wounded the names of those from whom they now parted so full of life and spirits.

"Do not be cast down, mother," exclaimed Harry, as Mrs Castleton pressed her gallant boy to her heart. "I shall come back safe and sound, depend on that; remember the verse of the song in Dibdin's new play:—

"'There's a sweet little cherub who sits up aloft To take care of the life of poor Jack.'"

"Let us rather trust to Him by whom the hairs of our head are all numbered—without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground— instead of talking in that light way," murmured Miss Mary, who was sitting knitting near the window. "Let us pray to Him, my dear Harry, that you may be brought back in safety."

"I will, Cousin Mary," said Harry, "and I am sure mother will too. I spoke thoughtlessly. It is the way of speaking one is accustomed to hear."

"Too much, I am afraid," said Miss Mary. "We are all too apt to speak lightly on such matters." The carriage came to the door.

"You will continue to study French diligently, Master Harry," said Madame De La Motte, as she wished him good-bye. "Though my countrymen are your enemies, you will love the language for my sake, will you not?"

Harry promised that he would do as she advised; indeed, he was well aware that the knowledge he already possessed was likely to prove very useful to him on many occasions.

His sister Julia was the last of the family he embraced. "The next time I come home I must bring my old shipmate, Headland; I am glad to find that he has joined the Triton. He is one of the noblest and most gallant fellows alive," he said, as he wished her good-bye.

"Though we shall be happy to see your friend, I only want you to bring yourself back, Harry, safe and sound, with your proper complement of arms and legs," she answered, smiling through her tears.

"I would sacrifice one or the other to have my name in the Gazette, and to gain my promotion, so I can make no promises," he replied, springing into the carriage after Algernon, and waving his hat as it drove off.

A number of the surrounding tenantry had assembled near the park-gates to bid farewell to the young sailor who was going off to fight King George's enemies on the high seas. Harry stopped the post-boy that he might put his hand out of the carriage to wish Mr Groocock, who was among them, good-bye, and to thank them for their good wishes, promising at all events to do his best to prevent the French from setting foot on the shores of England, and disturbing them in their quiet homes. Their hearty cheers as he drove off restored his spirits.

"It pays one for going away when the people show such kind feeling, and I hope when I come back to be received with as hearty a welcome," he remarked to Algernon, who accompanied him as far as the next town, through which the coach passed.

There seemed a blank at Texford after Harry had gone.

The next day the Miss Pembertons moved into Downside Cottage. To some of the more worldly guests their departure was a relief, as they freely expressed opinions which were looked upon as savouring too strongly of what was called Methodism to be uttered in polite society.

Although she could not see the expression which her remarks called forth on the countenances of the company, Miss Mary was often aware by the tone of their voices that what she said was unpalatable. This, however, though it grieved her gentle spirit, did not anger her, and she spoke in so mild and loving a way that even those who were least disposed to adopt her principles could not help acknowledging that she was sincere and faithful in her belief.

The Miss Pembertons had not been long settled in their new abode before they began to visit their poorer neighbours. The blind lady and her sister were soon known in all parts of the village, and might be seen every day walking arm-in-arm, now stopping at one cottage to admire the flowers in the little plot of ground before it, or now at another to inquire after the health of one of the inmates. The sick and the afflicted received their first attentions; Miss Mary could quote large portions of the Scriptures, and explain them with a clearness and simplicity suited to the comprehension of the most ignorant of those she addressed.

The sisters had no carriage, for their income was limited; but those in distress found them liberal in their gifts, and the inhabitants of Hurlston averred that they might have kept not only a pony-chaise, but a carriage and pair, with the sums they annually distributed in the place. Their charities were, however, discerning and judicious, and although those who had brought themselves into poverty received assistance when there was a prospect of their amending, if they were known to be continuing in an evil course they might in vain look for help, and were pretty sure to meet with a somewhat strong rebuke from Miss Jane, as Miss Pemberton was generally called. In their inquiries about the people they were helped by a good dame, one of the oldest inhabitants, Granny Wilson, who lived in a nice tidy cottage, with an orphan grandchild. Though their charity was generally distributed by Miss Jane's hand, Miss Mary was the greatest favourite. The sweet expression of her sightless countenance, and her gentle voice, won all hearts. Though Miss Mary never ventured outside their gate without her sister, she was wont to wander about the grounds by herself. The flower-garden was under her especial care. She was said to know, indeed, every flower which grew in it, and to point not only to any rose-tree which was named, but to each particular rose growing on it, with as much certainty as if she could see it before her.

A year had passed since the two spinster ladies had taken possession of Downside.

One morning, while Miss Pemberton had gone over to Texford, her sister was engaged, scissors in hand, in clipping the dead flower-stalks in front of the cottage.

"Good morning, Miss Mary," said a voice. "Am I to leave any fish for you to-day?"

"Pray do, Mistress Halliburt; Susan knows what we require. And you have brought your little girl with you; I heard her light footstep as she tripped by your side. I should like to talk to her while you go in. Come here, my dear," she said, as the dame went round to the back entrance; "I have heard of you, though I forget your name; what is it?"

"My name is Maiden May, please, Miss Mary; and I have heard of you and how kind you are to the poor; and I love you very much," answered the little girl, looking up naively at the blind lady's face.

"Your name is a pretty one," said Miss Mary, a smile lighting up her countenance as she spoke, produced by the child's remark. "Why are you called Maiden May?"

"Father called me so when he found me a long time ago," answered May.

"When he found you, my child, what do you mean?" asked Miss Mary, with surprise.

"When I came in the big ship with my ayah, and was wrecked among the fierce waves," answered May.

"I do not clearly understand you. Is not Dame Halliburt your mother?"

"Oh, yes, and I love her and father and Jacob and the rest so much," said May. "I have no other mother."

"Is your mother's name Halliburt?"

"Yes."

"I cannot understand what you mean, my dear; I must ask Mistress Halliburt to explain to me," said Miss Mary.

"Ah, yes, do; she will tell you. But I remember that father found me on board the big ship, and brought me home in the boat, and mother took care of me, and Jacob used to walk with me every day till I was old enough to go out with mother."

"But who is Jacob?" asked Miss Mary.

"He is brother Jacob, and he is so kind, and he tries to teach me to read; but he does not know much about it himself, and I can now read as fast as he can."

"Does your mother not teach you?" asked Miss Mary.

"Not much, she has no time; but father on Sunday tells me stories from the Bible. He can read very well, though he sometimes stops to spell the words, just as I do. There is only the Bible and one book we have got at home."

"Would you like, my little girl, to come up here and learn to read? My sister will teach you, and I think I can help, though I cannot see what is printed in a book."

"Oh, yes, so much, if mother will let me," answered May. "I am sure I should remember all you tell me, and then I might teach Jacob to read better than he does now. Ah, here comes my mother."

"You can go round the garden and look at the flowers while I talk to her."

"Thank you, Miss Mary; I so love flowers. We have none near our cottage, for they would not grow on the sand," and May ran off, stopping like a gay butterfly, now before one flower, now before another, to admire its beauty and enjoy its fragrance.

"If you can spare a few moments, Mistress Halliburt, I should like to learn from you more than I can understand from the account your little girl has been giving me of herself," said Miss Mary, as the dame approached her. "She has been talking about a wreck and being brought on shore by your husband. Is she not really your child?"

"We love her as much as if she was, but she has been telling you the truth, Miss Mary," answered the dame. "We have been unable to gain any tidings of her friends, though we have done all we could to inquire for them, and though we are loth for her sake to bring her up as a fisherman's child, we would not part with her unless to those who could do better for her welfare."

The dame then described how May had been brought from the wreck, and how, from the dress the little girl had on, and the locket round her neck, and more especially from her appearance, there could be no doubt that she was the child of gentlefolks.

"From the tone of her voice and the account my sister gave of her, I feel sure that you are right, Mistress Halliburt," said Miss May. "If you can spare her to-day, I should like to keep her with me, and you can call or send for her when you have finished your rounds. I shall esteem it a favour if you will bring her up to-morrow morning, and let my sister see her, and if we can in the meantime think of anything to benefit the child, we will let you know."

The dame expressed her gratitude for the interest Miss Mary took in Maiden May, but she could not help feeling somewhat jealous lest the blind lady should rob her and Adam of some of the affection which the child had bestowed on them. Still she was too right-minded to allow the feeling to interfere with May's interest. She readily agreed to let her remain, and also to bring her up the next morning, that Miss Pemberton might see her and form her own opinion about the child.

Calling May, she told her that she was to stay with Miss Mary, "and if Miss Mary wants you to lead her about, you must be very careful where you go, and mind to tell her everything you see; but don't talk too much if it seems to weary her," added the dame in a whisper, as, kissing May, she wished her good-bye.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

MAY'S SCHOOLING.

Maiden May, on finding herself alone with Miss Mary, at once went up, with a confidence she might not have felt with a person not deprived of sight as the kind lady was, and took her hand.

"Mother told me to ask whether you would like me to lead you about the garden. May I do so?"

"I should like you to lead me about very much, though I think I know my way pretty well. But you must stop whenever you come to a flower you admire, and I will tell you its name, and you must describe to me anything else you see—birds or butterflies or other insects. As my eyes are blind, you must use yours instead of them for my benefit."

"Oh, yes, Miss Mary; I will try and do what you say," exclaimed May, delighted to find that she could be of use to the blind lady. A new existence seemed suddenly opened out to her. The gentle and refined tone of voice of Miss Mary sounded pleasing to her ear, although she did not understand all that she said, her language was so different to that she had been accustomed to hear used in the fisherman's cottage.

Then she was delighted with the new and beautiful flowers, and her wonder was excited when she found that they all had names, and that Miss Mary, though blind, could tell their colours and describe them so perfectly. Miss Mary also told her the names of the birds whose notes they heard as they walked about the grounds, and May in return described with a minuteness which surprised her blind friend a number of objects both animate and inanimate which she thought would interest her, while she asked a variety of questions which, though exhibiting her ignorance, showed a large amount of intelligence and desire to obtain information. The child was evidently natural and thoroughly unaffected, without either timidity or rustic bashfulness. She had, indeed, been treated with uniform kindness, and with even a certain amount of respect, which the fisherman and his family could not help feeling for her. Though the dame had not failed in endeavouring to correct any faults she might have exhibited, yet she had done so with that gentleness and firmness which made the little girl sensible that her kind protectress did so for her benefit alone. The dame found the task a very easy one, for Maiden May rarely required a rebuke.

Still, though her voice was gentle, the child had caught the idiom and pronunciation of the fisherman's family; but even in that respect there was a natural refinement in the tone of her voice; and as Adam was a God-fearing man, and had brought up his sons to fear God also, no coarse language or objectionable expressions were ever heard in his cottage. Indeed, more true refinement is oftener found among the lower classes where religious principles exist than is generally supposed.

Miss Mary, after walking till she was tired, invited her young guest into the house. Luncheon was placed on the table; Susan attended her mistress and placed delicacies before May such as she had never before tasted. In spite, however, of Susan's pressing invitations to take more, she ate but sparingly, to the surprise of the kind woman, who thought that the little fisher-girl would have done more justice to the good things offered her.

"She has quite a young lady's appetite," she observed afterwards to Miss Mary.

"That is not surprising, for a young lady she is, depend on that. It will be a grievous pity if her relatives are not to be found," was the answer.

After luncheon, Miss Mary got out a book and placed it before May, and begged her to read from it. By the way May endeavoured to spell out the words Miss Mary discovered that she had made but very little progress in her education.

"Please, I think I could say my lessons better in the Bible if I could find the verses father teaches me," said May, with perfect honesty.

Miss Mary rang to obtain Susan's assistance, and May asked her to find the Sermon on the Mount. May read out nearly the whole of the first chapter, with a peculiar tone and pronunciation, which she had learned from honest Adam, following the words with her finger.

"I rather think, my little maid, that you know the verses by heart," observed Miss Mary.

"Oh, yes," answered May, naively, "I could not read them without; but I will try and learn more before I next come."

Miss Mary was, however, inclined to advise her not to make the attempt, as she would learn to pronounce the words with the accent which sounded so harsh to her ears.

"But, however pronounced, they are God's words," she thought to herself. "I should not prevent her learning even a verse from His book. She will soon gain the right pronunciation from educated people."

The time passed as pleasantly with Miss Mary as with May herself.

At length Susan appeared to say that a fisher-lad, one of Dame Halliburt's sons, had come to fetch the little girl.

"Who is it?" asked Miss Mary.

"Oh, it is sure to be brother Jacob, the rest have gone out with father," answered May.

Jacob was desired to walk in. He stood in the hall, hat in hand, watching the door of the drawing-room, through which Susan had intimated May would appear. As soon as she saw him she ran forward and took both of his hands, pleasure beaming on her countenance. He stooped down and kissed her.

"Are you ready to come with me, Maidy May?" he asked; "you don't want to stop away from us with the ladies here, do you?"

"Oh, no, no, Jacob!" answered May, holding him tightly by the hand; "I don't want to leave father or mother or you; I will go back with you as soon as you like."

Miss Mary overheard the latter part of the conversation as she followed May out of the drawing-room.

"I hear, my good lad, that you have been very kind to the little girl; and pray understand that we do not wish to rob you of her; and if we ask her to come up here, it will only be to help you in teaching her to read, as I understand you have been accustomed to do."

"Please, ma'am, I am a very poor scholar," answered Jacob; "but I do my best, and I shall be main glad if you will help me."

Hand-in-hand May and Jacob set off to return home.

That evening Jacob might have been seen with the Bible before him, and May seated by his side, while he tried to help her to read. As the lamp fell on their countenances, the contrast between the fair, delicate-looking child and the big, strongly-built fisher-boy, with his well-bronzed, broad and honest face, would not have failed to be remarked by a stranger entering the room.

Jacob spelt out the words one by one, pronouncing them with his broad accent as he gained their meaning, while May followed him, imitating exactly the intonation of his voice. Sometimes she not only caught him up, but got ahead, reading on several words by herself, greatly to her delight.

"Ah, May! I see how it is," said Jacob, with a sigh. "You will be quicker with your books than I ever shall be, and if the kind ladies at Downside wish to teach you, it's not for me to say them nay; but I would that I had more learning for your sake, and I shall be jealous of them, that I shall, when I find that you can read off out of any book you have got as smoothly as you do the verses you have learned by rote. Oh, you will be laughing at me then."

"No, no, Jacob! I will never laugh at you. You taught me all I know about reading, and I shall never forget that, even if I learn to read ever so well."

Next morning, when Adam came home from fishing, the dame told him the interest Miss Mary Pemberton seemed to take in Maiden May, and of her expectation that the Miss Pembertons would wish to have the little girl up to instruct her better than they could at home. Adam agreed that it would not be right to prevent their charge enjoying the benefit which such instruction would undoubtedly be to her.

"But they must not rob us of her altogether, dame. I could not bear to part with the little maiden, and what is more I won't, unless her own kindred come to claim her, and then it would go sore against the grain to give her up. But right is right, and we could not stand out against that."

"If the Miss Pembertons wish to take the little girl into their house and make a little lady of her it would not be right, I fear, Adam, to say 'No' to them."

"She is a little lady already," answered Adam, sturdily. "They could not make her more so than she is already."

"But I am afraid the way we live, and speak too, Adam, is not like that of gentlefolks; and though our Maiden May is a little lady, and better than many little ladies I have known in all her ways, she will become in time too much like one of us to please those to whom she belongs, I am afraid," observed the dame, who had from her experience as a domestic servant in Mr Castleton's family, a clearer perception of the difference between the habits of her own class and those of the upper orders of society than her husband. Still Adam was not to be convinced.

"We are bringing her up as a Christian child should be brought up, to be good and obedient," he observed, in a determined tone, "and that's more than many among the gentry are. You know, Betsy, you wouldn't like her to be like that Miss Castleton you told me off."

"No more I should," answered the dame; "But though the Pembertons are of her kindred, they are truly Christian ladies, and Maiden May could only learn good from them."

As is often the case in a matrimonial discussion, the wife had the best of the argument, but they were still uncertain whether the Miss Pembertons would even make the offer which the dame had suggested as possible. She, at all events, had promised to take Maiden May up to them, and Adam could not prohibit her doing so.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

MAY AN APT SCHOLAR.

On Miss Pemberton's return to Downside, while seated at their tea-table, Miss Mary gave her a description of her young visitor of the morning, and told her of the proposal she was anxious to make about her.

"I should just like to see the little girl," said Miss Pemberton. "If she is really as the dame supposes, of gentle birth, it would be undoubtedly right to try and give her some of the advantages of which she has been deprived. At the same time we should be cautious—perhaps the dame may have been mistaken, and it will be unnecessary, if not imprudent, to try and raise her above the position in which she was born, unless she possesses qualities calculated to make her happier and better in a higher station."

"Well, Jane, I could only form an opinion from her sweet voice and from what she said. Adam Halliburt and his wife are devotedly fond of her, and do you not think that we may help them by judicious training."

"Well, Mary, I see that you are determined to think highly of the child, and unless we find that you are mistaken, I shall be very glad to see her as often as her worthy protectors will allow her to come," said Miss Pemberton.

"I trust that it will be found that I am right in my opinion of the sweet little girl," said Miss Mary, nodding her head and smiling. "I can always judge best of people by their voices, and I detected in her's that true tone which can only proceed from a true heart."

"Well, well, we shall see, and I hope that my opinion will agree with your's, Mary," observed Miss Pemberton.

Next morning Mistress Halliburt arrived with Maiden May. The little girl was scrupulously clean and neatly dressed, though her garments were befitting a fisherman's daughter of plain and somewhat coarse materials, except that she wore the unusual addition of shoes and stockings.

"I have brought our little maiden to you, ladies, as you desired, and if you will please to tell me how long you wish to keep her, I will send my Jacob up to fetch her away at the proper time," said the dame as she entered the hall into which the Miss Pemberton's had come out to meet their young guest.

Miss Pemberton scanned her narrowly with her keen grey eyes before replying.

"Good morning, my dear," said Miss Mary, "come and shake hands."

May ran forward and placed her hand trustfully in that of the blind lady. "May I lead you about the garden as I did yesterday, Miss Mary," she asked, "and tell you of the birds, and butterflies, and flowers I see? I shall like it so much." Miss Mary smiled and nodded her consent to the proposal. "Thank you, thank you," exclaimed Maiden May. "You need not send for the child till the evening, Mrs Halliburt," said Miss Jane, who had been watching May. "We shall not grow tired of her I think, and she, I hope, will be happy here."

The dame went away in the hopes that Maiden May had made a favourable impression on the ladies. "The elder is a little stiff and won't win the child's heart like the blind lady; but she is kind and may be thinks more than her sister," she said to herself. "She won't spoil the child or set her up too much—that's a good thing, or maybe she might not like coming back to us and putting up with our ways, and that would vex Adam sorely."

The little girl spent a very happy day with the kind ladies. She led Miss Mary as she had proposed about the garden, and was as entertaining to the blind lady as on the previous day, while she gained a considerable amount of information tending to expand her young mind.

Miss Jane commenced giving her the course of instruction she had contemplated, and Maiden May proved herself a willing and apt pupil. When invited to come to dinner, Miss Jane was pleased to see her stand up with her hands before her, ready to repeat the grace which she herself uttered.

"Father always prays before and after meals though he does not say the same words; but I think God does not care about the words so much as what comes out of the heart. Oh, He is very very kind, I always thank Him for what He gives me. If He had not taken care of me, I should have been washed away in the sea with my poor ayah and all the people on board the ship."

"And you love God my little maiden," asked Miss Pemberton. "Oh, yes, how could I not when He has given us His dear Son, and with Him all things else which we can want to make us happy."

"The child has been well taught by the good fish wife," observed Miss Mary aside to her sister. "She has set us an example which we must be careful to follow."

"Yes, indeed," said Miss Jane, "we can better give her lady-like notions and habits than the good old woman could have done, but she has acted faithfully in imparting that knowledge which is above all price." It is true May did several things at table not in accordance with the customs of polite society, but Miss Jane refrained from saying anything for fear of intimidating the little girl.

"You will observe, May, how I behave at table, and you will try, I am sure, to do as I do," she said quietly.

May nodded, and after this so narrowly watched all her movements that Miss Jane began almost to wish that she had not made the remark. If Miss Jane helped herself to salt so did Maiden May, when she drank the little girl lifted her small tumbler to her lips, her knife and fork was held exactly in the same way she saw Miss Jane doing, or held daintily in her tiny hand while Susan took her plate for some more chicken.

"Our young friend will prove an apt scholar, I suspect," observed Miss Jane, to her sister. "I will tell you why I think so by and bye."

After dinner Miss Jane gave May her first writing lesson. She had never before held a pen in her hand, and her attempts to make pot-hooks and hangers, and even straight lines were not very successful.

"I think I could make some letters like those in a book, if you will let me, Miss Jane," she said, looking up after surveying her performance.

"I do not want you to make such as those at present; but I will write some which you can copy."

To her surprise the little girl imitated the letters, as she told Miss Mary, with a neatness and precision which was truly surprising.

"I like to do them much better than those ugly things," said Maiden May, and she was spared the task of copying the pot-hooks and hangers, and was allowed to learn writing more according to her own fancy.

She was so happy that she thought Jacob had arrived sooner than it was necessary to escort her home. She went, however, very willingly, tripping along by his side as she held his big hand, and describing with glee all she had seen and learned.

"You will soon be thinking little of our home I am afeared, May," said Jacob with a sigh.

May protested honestly she liked home best. Jacob felt that in a few years she would think differently. He scarcely dared to allow himself to contemplate the wide gap which would be placed between them.

Day after day May went up to Downside Cottage.

"We ought not to give you the trouble to come for your little girl, Mistress Halliburt," observed Miss Jane; "Susan can escort her if you do not think her old enough to go by herself."

"If she were my own daughter, or any other poor person's child, I would have let her go and come back by herself long ago, but there is one living not far off, who, for reasons of his own which I cannot fathom, would, I am afraid, like to spirit her off," said the dame mysteriously. "I have never lost sight of her except when she has been with you or my Jacob, besides that time when near Texford Mr Harry saved her from the wild bull, and I was so frightened then that I made up my mind never to let her go by herself again. If she had come to harm I should have almost died of it, and Adam would never have forgiven me."

"That was an accident not likely to occur again, and surely no one would injure the child," observed Miss Jane.

"It's no fancy of mine if I think there is," said the dame. "He came once and tried to get her from us by fair means, but we would not give her up for all his promises. But when he finds out as he is sure to do before long, that she is with you, and coming backwards and forwards, he will be on the watch for her. He is not often here now since the war began, and Adam thinks he is about no good. He does come back sometimes for a day or two, and Satan will be helping him if he thinks of mischief."

"No doubt about that, Mrs Halliburt," observed Miss Jane. "But there is one more powerful than Satan who will protect the innocent."

"True, marm, but He will protect them through the means of their friends, and it's our business, if we suspect evil to guard against it," said the dame.

"You are right. But who is the person of whom you speak who is likely to injure our little girl?"

"We must not speak ill of our neighbours, Miss Pemberton," answered the dame. "I know that; but if our neighbours do ill we may warn others against them. The man I mean is Miles Gaffin, the miller, as he calls himself. Now, I cannot say exactly what ill he does, except that I never heard of his doing any good or saying even a kind word, though he says many a bad one: but Adam, my husband, has a pretty strong notion of the sort of business he carries on, and that it's not by his mill he makes his money. There are few about here who don't stand in awe of him, and yet it would be hard for anyone to say exactly why. Only one thing is certain, that if he had a mind to do a thing he would do it, and set the law at defiance. To say the truth, I cannot tell you more against him than I have, but I am just afraid of him, and cannot help feeling as how he would work mischief to our Maiden May if he had the chance. But, Miss Pemberton, you will not repeat what I have said?"

"Certainly not, dame, certainly not," said Miss Mary, "but after all I cannot say that you have brought any serious accusation against the miller, nor can I understand why you should fancy he is likely to injure our Maiden May."

"That's just it, Miss Mary, no one about here can say exactly what he does, or why they don't like him. Still, no one does like him, and I feel a sort of tremble whenever I set my eyes on him, just as I should, begging your pardon, ladies, if I was to meet Satan himself, though I know well he cannot hurt me, for I trust in one who is able to keep evil at a distance."

"Though I still remain in the dark as to why we should be cautious of this man Gaffin, we will always keep a careful watch over Maiden May, and when you or your son cannot come for her we will send her home with some prudent person who will take care that neither he nor anyone else runs off with her," answered Miss Jane.



CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

AT PORTSMOUTH.

Portsmouth was a busy place in those stirring times of warfare, and as the coach, on the top of which Harry was seated, rattled and rumbled down the High Street, parties of sailors came rolling along, laughing and talking, several in their heedlessness almost running against the horses in spite of the shouts of the coachman, who had more than once to pull up to avoid driving over them. Now a pressgang passed along, dragging a number of unwilling captives to serve on board the fleet, some resigned to their fate, others with frowning brows resenting the treatment they had received, and some glancing round, hoping against hope for an opportunity to escape. Officers in cocked hats and glittering epaulets were walking quickly along, while post-chaises came driving in bringing Admiralty officials or Captains to join their ships. Groups were collected in front of the different inns, and Jews were looking out for customers, certain of obtaining a ready sale for their trumpery wares. Ballad singers, especially those who could troll forth one of Dibdin's new songs, were collecting a good harvest from eager listeners, and the apple-stall women were driving a thriving trade; as were the shopkeepers of high and low degree, judging by their smiling countenances, while the sound of revelry which came forth from the numerous inns showed that the landlords were rejoicing in the abundance of custom: in short, there was little chance of grass growing in Portsmouth streets in those days.

As Harry leaped down from his seat he found his hand grasped by another midshipman, a handsome looking youth, somewhat taller and older than himself, who had made his way through the crowd gathered round the coach.

"I have been on the look-out for you, Harry, with a message from the Captain," said the latter, as they cordially shook hands. "You are to come on board at once, for we are all ataunto and the frigate goes out of harbour this evening."

I have to order a few things at my tailor's, and shall be quite ready, answered Harry.

"Well, Headland," he added, taking his friend's arm after he had given his portmanteau into charge of a porter, "I was so glad to find that you had joined the Triton, and as the captain knows and esteems you, he is sure to give you a lift whenever he can. We shall see some more service together, and I hope that you, at all events, will mount a swab on your shoulder before the ship is paid off."

"Your uncle will get you promoted first, I should think," answered Headland, "though I hope some day my turn will come."

"You are my senior, and have done not a few things to merit it, and Captain Fancourt is the last man to favour a relation by passing over another with greater merits."

"Come, come, you have learned to flatter while you were studying French on shore. We shall both do our duty, I have no doubt about that."

Harry having called at his tailor's, he and Headland went down to the point now so crowded with men-of-war's boats, and wherries coming in and shoving off marines and sailors, watermen, and boat-women, and gaily dressed females and persons of all description, that they had no little difficulty in gaining one of the wherries. Reaching her, however, at last, they off to the frigate lying mid-channel, with her sails loose, ready to get under way.

Harry, having reported himself, had some old friends to greet, and a number of new acquaintances to make, and he soon found himself at home in a midshipman's berth.

As soon as the captain came on board, the frigate, slipping her moorings, glided out of harbour, and took up a berth near Lord Howe's fleet, which had a short time before arrived after the glorious victory of the 1st June.

Captain Fancourt having sent for Harry, gave him a kind welcome, and said:—

"You shall go on shore with me to-morrow to attend the king and queen, who are coming on board the fleet. It is the best opportunity you may have of seeing their majesties till you go to court on your promotion, which I hope, however, you will gain before many years are over."

Accordingly, the next morning the captain went on shore in his boat, taking Harry with him, and pulled to the dockyard.

Never had Portsmouth harbour presented a gayer scene. Every vessel afloat was dressed with as many flags as could be mustered, from the proud line of battle ship to the humble lighter, while banners waved from numberless flagstaff's on shore. The shores were everywhere lined with people on the watch for the flotilla of boats which were collecting before the Commissioner's house in the dockyard. The whole garrison was under arms, and the Lords of the Admiralty, whose flag was hoisted on board the Queen, and most of the Ministers of State were present.

Shouts rent the air as at length the king issued from the Commissioner's house, carrying in his own hand a magnificent diamond-hilted sword, accompanied by the queen, and followed by several of the princes and princesses. He thus proceeded down to his barge waiting at the steps, when, amid the shouts of the multitude, and the firing of guns, he embarked with his family and attendants. The barge, then urged by the strong arms of her crew, proceeded down the harbour, followed by a vast fleet of boats, and steered for the Queen Charlotte, the most conspicuous of the ships at Spithead.

As soon as the barge arrived alongside, the royal standard was hoisted, that of the venerable admiral being shifted to a frigate, and a royal salute thundered forth from all the ships, while hearty cheers rose from the throats of the gallant crews as they stood on the outstretched yards.

On the deck of the Queen Charlotte were collected the gallant admirals and captains, by whose courage and seamanship the first of that long series of victories which contributed so greatly to England's naval glory had been won.

The king would allow no one to take the sword from him, but as soon as he reached the deck, eagerly advanced towards Lord Howe. He presented it to him as a mark of his satisfaction and entire approbation of his conduct. Rich gold chains were then presented by the king to Sir Alexander Hood, to Admiral Gardener, and also to Lord Howe's first captain, Sir Roger Curtis.

"I am sorry that their wounds prevent Admiral Bower and Admiral Paisley from attending," said the king. "I must have the satisfaction of presenting them with gold chains; and as soon as medals can be cast to commemorate the victory, I will send them that they may be attached to the chains."

It was an interesting sight when, on that occasion, the flower of the English navy, with the gallant men who had fought that glorious action, were presented by the venerable admiral, for Lord Howe was then seventy years of age, to the good king on the quarter-deck of the flag ship. His Majesty exhibited much genuine feeling as the admirals captains and lieutenants in succession came up to him. He had a kind word for everyone, and one of sympathy for those who had so far recovered from their wounds as to be able to be presented.

"Who would not be ready to shed the last drop of his blood when we have our dear country to fight for, and so first-rate a king to reign over us," exclaimed Harry, enthusiastically to his friend Headland, for they both had accompanied their captain on board, and witnessed the spectacle from a distant part of the ship.

The levee being concluded, the king dined with the admiral on board, and then returned in his barge to the harbour, accompanied as before by a squadron of boats.

His Majesty was so eager to see the prizes captured by his fleet, that, before going on shore, he insisted on pulling up the harbour to have a look at them. There, at their moorings, lay the six huge line of battle ships which had lately belonged to the republican French, now the prize of English valour. The Northumberland, Achille, La Just, Impetueux, and America, the two latter the finest seventy-fours that had ever been seen in the British harbour, the Sans-Pareille, almost equalling in size the Queen Charlotte, and noted for her swift sailing. The Venguer would have been among them had she not sunk just after she struck her colours.

In the evening the town was brilliantly illuminated, and the next day the king attended the launch of a line of battle ship, the Prince of Wales. Directly afterwards, the indefatigable monarch, with the queen and princess, rowed out to Spithead, embarked on board the Aquilon frigate, royal salutes firing from all the ships while the crews manned yards and cheered, and the bands played their most lively music.

The Aquilon getting under way stood towards the Needles, when the king returned to Portsmouth to spend the Sunday.

On the following Monday he sailed in the Niger frigate for Southampton, whence the royal family proceeded in carriages for Windsor.

Such is a description of one of the many visits the king delighted to pay to the fleets of England, so that both the officers and men of the navy were well acquainted with his person, and very many could boast of having had the honour of conversing with him.

The Triton, however, was soon to be far away from such scenes, and to be engaged in the stern reality of warfare. Her destination was the Mediterranean, and her captain and crew being eager to distinguish themselves, the grass was not allowed to grow on her keel. Still, though a bright look-out was kept, and leagues of water had been ploughed by her, a couple of privateers, a few merchantmen, and Gunda costas, only had been captured, she having hitherto encountered no worthy antagonist.

Unhappily fever broke out on board, and going into Gibraltar she was compelled to leave thirty men at the hospital. Even after she sailed again, a considerable number remained on the sick list; indeed, she had almost an equal number with those left behind unable to do duty.

Though his crew were thus reduced in strength, Captain Fancourt continued his cruise in search of the enemy.

The Triton, approaching the neighbourhood of Carthagena, a number of large ships were seen hull down between her and the land. They were known to be the Spanish fleet. Their movements were watched, and they were observed standing back to port. The Triton kept them in sight, and then standing away, continued cruising on the ground they had before occupied. In vain, however, Captain Fancourt watched for their return, that he might carry information of their whereabouts to the admiral.

Day after day went by and not a sail was seen.

"This is vexatious work," exclaimed Harry, as he and Headland were walking the quarter-deck during the first watch, when the frigate lay becalmed about ten or a dozen miles off the coast.

"It's more than vexatious to me who have no friends to help me, and who, unless I get the opportunity of fighting my way up the ratlines, have but little hope of promotion," answered Headland. "You who have a father in Parliament are sure of yours as soon as you have served your time."

"That may be the case, but I would rather gain my promotion in hard service, than as a matter of favour. I am sure that you will make opportunities for yourself, and I hope to find them too, though they may not come as willingly as we may desire," said Harry. "But how is it, Headland, that you speak of having no friends? You know me well enough, to be sure, that I could not wish to pry into your affairs from idle curiosity; but the truth is, that being known to be your friend, I have several times been asked about you, and I have been compelled to confess that I know nothing of your history. That has made people fancy that there is something you would desire to conceal, though, as I know you, my dear fellow, to be the soul of honour, I am very sure there is nothing, as far as you are personally concerned, which you would desire to be kept secret."

"You do me no more than justice, Harry," answered Headland, in a tone which denoted honest pride—a very different feeling to vanity. "There is nothing in my history which I wish to conceal. On the contrary, I would rather have it as widely known as possible, though the fear of being considered egotistical has prevented me talking about myself. For this reason alone I have hitherto, even to you, never spoken about my early days, and now you put the question to me, I can scarcely otherwise account for my silence on the subject."

"You have spoken at times of a kind-hearted seaman who took care of you as a child, and of having served as a ship's boy before you were placed on the quarter-deck, and of other circumstances which have made me suspect that your early history was not a little romantic. From strangers being present, or from other causes, I have, however, always been prevented from questioning you more particularly on the subject, and even now, as I honour you for yourself, I would not ask you to tell me anything, but that I believe it would be for your advantage, and certainly, as I said before, not to satisfy my own curiosity."

"I am sure of that, my dear Harry," answered Headland, "and I will try to give you as much of my early history as I possess myself. To do so I must exert my memory, and help it out with the information I have obtained from my early protector and devoted friend, Jack Headland, whose name I bear, though I know from him that it is not my proper one. I have no reason, however, to be ashamed of the name, and therefore gladly retain it, hoping some day to make it known with honour. I confess, however, did I possess any means of being recognised, my earnest wish would have been to discover my parents and family, but as you will learn, from what I am going to tell you, all possible clue that would enable me to do so has been lost, and I have therefore made up my mind to be content with my position, and to gain a name for myself."



CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

A YARN AT SEA.

"If it gives you no painful recollections, my dear Headland, I shall much like to hear your history," said Harry. "On this calm night the thread of your narrative is not likely to be broken."

"I will try to go back, then, as far as my memory will help me," said Headland.

I have a dim recollection of living in a large Eastern style of house, with a number of black servants dressed in white, and a black woman who spoke in a language which has now become strange, though I think I then understood it. She attended especially on me. There was a tall gentleman of a slight figure, and a very fair lady, who was, I am sure, my mother. I have a faint recollection of her blue eyes and sweet smile as she took me in her arms, or looked down upon me as I played at her feet. Still, it is only now and then like the vision in a dream that her countenance rises to my memory. After that there comes a blank, and I found myself on board a ship—brought there by my black nurse, accompanied by the tall gentleman. I remember him clearly in the cabin, talking to a lady who then took charge of me, my nurse, I conclude, returning on shore, for she disappears from my recollection. While the gentleman was on deck, as I was afterwards told by Jack Headland, he suddenly, looking at the mate, asked him if he was not somebody he had known in England. The mate seemed for a moment taken aback, but, recovering himself, replied quite quietly that the gentleman was mistaken; that he had never heard of such a person, and that his name was Michael Golding, which, as Jack said, as far as he knew to the contrary, was the case, for that was the name he went by on board, though he was generally spoken of as the mate. The gentleman at last seemed satisfied, and returned on shore.

The ship sailed, and I remember seeing the blue water bubbling and hissing alongside as she clove her way through it, and playing with a ball on deck, which rolled out through one of the ports. The lady was very kind, and used to sing to me, and tell me stories, and, I fancied, tried to teach me my letters, though I was somewhat young to learn them. She was, however, very different to my mother, much older I suspect, and I did not love her half so much.

It came on to blow after a time, the sea got up and the ship tumbled about, and the poor lady was unable to watch over me.

There were other passengers, but they were all ill, and the stewardess was too busy to attend to me, but the mate came one day and told the lady that he would watch over me, or get some one else to do so when he was engaged.

From the first I did not like him, for he was a dark, black bearded man, with an unpleasant expression of countenance, so I cried out whenever he came near me. The captain must, I think, therefore, have given me in charge to Jack Headland, a young apprentice, whose looks I liked much better than the mate's. At all events, I was frequently with Jack, and no one could have taken better care of me.

There were not many English seamen, most of the crew being dark-skinned fellows—Malays, I suppose.

The vessel was, I know, not an Indiaman, but a country trader bound to Calcutta or Bombay.

I told Jack—so I learned from him—that I did not like the mate. He advised me not to say that to any one else, and promised that he would be my friend.

Most thoroughly he fulfilled his promise. Strange as it may seem, the mate intentionally left me near an open port several times, in the hopes that I might by chance slip through, so Jack thought, though he could not guess at his motive. Still it was clear that the mate had a bitter spite against me.

We had been some time at sea when we were caught in a fearful hurricane. The ship was dismasted, and I remember hearing a dreadful crash, when all was confusion on board. The sea broke over the ship, and a number of people were washed away. Even then Jack did not forget me. He found me in the cabin, and seizing me in his arms carried me to the fore part of the ship, which still hung to the rocks, while the after part, directly we had left it, broke up, and the poor lady who had had charge of me with many others was lost. The mate, who had made his way forward with half-a-dozen men, advised Jack to let me go, as it was impossible I should survive, and that he would probably lose his own life in attempting to save mine.

"No, no," answered Jack. "I promised to take care of the youngster, and I will as long as I have life in me."

The noble fellow held me the faster with one arm, while he clung to the wreck with the other. Scarcely had the mate spoken than he was washed away; but Jack saw him gain a piece of the wreck to which he was clinging, when he disappeared in the gloom at night.

When morning broke, the shore was seen. The hurricane was over, and the sea was becoming calmer. Jack securing me to the stump of the bowsprit with three or four of our surviving shipmates, contrived to form a raft. When this was launched he came for me, and fed me with some biscuit which he had in his pocket, I conclude. We then embarked, and partly by paddling with pieces of plank, and partly by sailing, we reached the shore.

We had not long landed when a number of natives came, and made the whole party prisoners. While they were consulting what to do with us, some others were seen along the shore dragging the mate in their midst. Three Malays had been saved on the raft, who, poor fellows, were quickly knocked on the head. The lives of the white men were spared. Jack kept me tightly in his arms, and entreated the natives not to take me from him. The mate, however, seemed to be able to make them understand him, and Jack said that he was certain from the way he looked at me, that he was endeavouring to persuade the natives to separate us. Though we had fallen among a tribe of murderous pirates, such as frequent the coasts of many of the Indian Islands, they had still some of the kinder feelings of human nature lingering in their breasts. Notwithstanding what the mate might have said Jack was allowed to keep possession of me, and our captors making signs to us to accompany them, we proceeded to their village, situated on the shores of a creek, on the bank of which several piratical proas lay moored.

By this time I was suffering dreadfully from thirst. Jack seeing this entreated the natives to give me some water. The houses were raised on platforms, with steps leading to them some height from the ground.

One of the natives, a headman, calling out a pleasant-looking young woman, brought down a calabash of water, which she gave me to drink. She smiled as she watched me. As soon as I had satisfied my thirst, I put it to Jack's mouth, and he swallowed the remainder. The young woman seemed to have taken a fancy to me, and saying something to the head man, who was her husband, the latter made signs to Jack that he was to give me to her. On this she seemed highly pleased, and Jack, thinking I should be safe in her keeping, made no resistance.

As soon as she got me, she carried me up into the house. Jack was going to follow, when some of the natives seized him and dragged him away. My new nurse brought me some dry native clothing, and while doing so discovered round my neck a gold chain to which an ornament was attached; but she did not attempt to take it off, and I have ever since carefully preserved it in the hopes that it might assist to identify me. She then gave me food, and placed me on a mat, where I soon fell asleep.

Day after day passed by, and though I frequently asked for Jack, he did not appear. The young woman who had no children of her own, treated me with great kindness, and dressed me up like a native. I do not remember having had my own clothes restored.

I remember once, if not twice, seeing the mate while I was playing in front of the house; but my protectress, fancying that he wanted to take me from her, ran out and carried me inside.

I was beginning to learn the language of the people with whom I was thrown, and could make my wants known, so that I must have been some time with them. I had not forgotten Jack, however, and continued hoping that he would come back for me; and whenever I went out I was on the watch for him. Once I fancied I saw him in the distance, but as I was dressed as a native child, he did not recognise me.

Many months went by. I afterwards found that the white men had been compelled to labour as slaves, though the mate had managed to gain the confidence of one of the chiefs, and had risen in his favour. The proas frequently went out of harbour, and were absent often for a considerable time. When they came back they brought all sorts of things, which were placed in their store houses, and were certainly not obtained by peaceable commerce.

One day the young woman who had charge of me seemed very unhappy. I was now able to understand all she said, so I asked her the cause of her grief, and she told me that the chief whose slave the mate had become, wanted to persuade her husband to give me up to him, and that she could not bear the thoughts of parting from me. I entreated her to keep me, and promised that if I was taken away I would run back to her. I then asked her if she knew what had become of my friend Jack. She said he was not far off, but that his master would not let him come to see me. I begged her, at all events, not to let me be given up to the mate. She at last told me one day that I need have no fear of the mate, as he had disappeared, and was supposed to have made his way out to sea in a canoe to a vessel which had appeared off the coast.

The pirates lived tolerably easy lives on shore, apparently believing that though they must have made enemies in all directions, their village was so securely hidden, they were not likely to be molested.

Thus time went on, when one night I was awoke by hearing a fearful uproar, rapid reports of firearms, shouts and shrieks of men fighting desperately. Presently flames burst forth from different parts of the village. They were approaching the house where I was. The one next to it was on fire. My kind protectress did not forget me. At first, not knowing what to do, she had remained watching the progress of events, hoping probably that the enemy would be driven back. When, however, the fire surrounded her house, she saw that it was time to fly. Seizing me in her arms she was about to do so, when the crackling and hissing flames burst forth around us. At that moment a man leaped up the steps. Though so long a time had passed since we had parted, I at once recognised my friend Jack. Snatching me from the woman's arms, he sprang down to the ground, telling her to follow him. Bullets were whizzing through the air in all directions. He made his way as fast as his legs could carry him out of the range of fire, and then directed his course towards the river, where he sat down on the ground beneath some bushes, and I believe I fell asleep.

It was just daylight when I awoke, and Jack creeping with me down to the water's edge, we saw several boats full of men. Jack shouted to them, and one of them put in and took us on board. They were, he afterwards told me, the boats of two Dutch men-of-war, which had been sent up the river to destroy the nest of pirates. This they had done effectually, and were now on their way back to their ships. Jack was the only one of the shipwrecked crew who had escaped; what had become of the others he could not tell, but concluded that they had been murdered.

It was a long time, however, before I could speak to him or understand what he said, for I had been so long without hearing a word of English that I had almost forgotten it, while he knew but very little of the native language in which I had in the meantime learned to express my wants.

We were kindly received on board one of the Dutch frigates. Jack tried to tell the captain the little he knew about me, but as the Dutchman spoke no English, and Jack was ignorant of Dutch, he did not, I suspect, give him a very lucid account. Jack having been but a short time at the port from which we sailed, as he had joined the ship from a vessel which had arrived only the day before, had entirely forgotten its name, and being no navigator he had not the slightest notion from what direction we had come. He was not much happier in recollecting the name of the vessel, except that there were two of them both ending, as he said, in "jee."

Before long a Dutch seaman who spoke English was found on board, and through his interpretation Jack was able to give a rather more clear account of me than at first. The captain was at all events satisfied that I was the child of English parents of a good position in life, and taking compassion on my destitute condition, he desired Jack to leave me in the cabin, giving him permission, however, to come aft and attend to me. Jack would rather have kept me forward with himself, but believing that this arrangement was for my good, he submitted to it. I was soon rigged out like a young Dutchman by the ship's tailor, and Jack used to come into the cabin to look after me in the morning, and to attend to me at my meals, while he watched during the best part of the day as I ran about the deck.

The frigates were bound for Batavia. As soon as we arrived there the captain took me on shore, and he so interested a wealthy Dutch merchant and his wife in my favour that they offered to receive me into their house and adopt me should my parents not be discovered. I at once became a great favourite of the lady's, who had no children of her own, and for my sake they sent for Jack and asked if he would wish to remain on shore and enter their service. As he was very unwilling to part with me he accepted their offer, though, as he afterwards said, kind as they were, he did not like the thoughts of my being turned into a Dutchman. He was my constant companion when I was not with Mynheer Vanderveldt or his excellent Frau, and he did his best to teach me English. They, however, did not neglect either my education or my manners, but took great pains to bring me up as a young gentleman.

Three or four years more passed by, and I had become a biggish boy, and should, in spite of Jack's efforts, have been soon turned into a Dutchman, when my kind friends determined to return to Europe. I suspect that all this time, from their wish to keep me, they had taken no great pains to discover to whom I belonged; indeed, the only clue that Jack could give them was so slight that I feel that they really had a sufficient excuse for their negligence. My faithful friend Jack, still unwilling to part from me, accompanied my friends in the Prinz Mauritz, on board which we embarked. He and I were doomed, however, to be unfortunate in our voyages, though more fortunate than our companions.

We had been some weeks at sea when, during a dark and blowing night, a terrific crash was heard. I sprang out of my berth and dressed, and within a minute my faithful Jack was by my side.

"The ship is on shore and will go to pieces before daylight, but I will not desert you, my boy," he said. "As I came aft I made out a rock close aboard of us, and as the masts are sure to go over we may manage to gain it if we take the proper time. I wish I could help Mynheer and the Frau, but I must look after you first."

Scarcely had he said this when another and another crashing sound reached our ears.

"There go the masts!" he exclaimed. "Come along!" and seizing me by the arm he dragged me on deck.

As he had expected, the head of the mainmast rested on the rock, which could now be seen as a bright flash of lightning darted from the sky. We were the first on the spar, and making our way along it gained the rock. A few others seeing us followed. I entreated Jack to look after my friends, forgetting the danger to which he would be exposed in doing so. The people coming along the mast prevented him from going, and just then a heavy sea rolling in sent a sheet of spray over us, completely hiding the ship. When we looked again she was gone. The sea had lifted her, and falling off the rock she had sunk, dragging her fallen masts with those still clinging to them.

Six people, besides Jack and me, had alone escaped, all the other human beings on board, including my kind friends, had perished. We remained till daylight on the rock, and at daybreak managed to get to the island, partly by wading and partly by swimming. It was itself only a huge rock, about three miles long, rising in some places to the height of a couple of hundred feet above the sea.

We employed the whole day in collecting provisions and part of the cargo washed ashore. We went in search of water and found a spring, so that we had no fear of dying from hunger or thirst for some time to come. One of our first cares was to erect a flagstaff as a signal to any passing ship. I felt deeply grieved for the loss of my friends; but I did not think so much about the fact that I was reduced from affluence to perfect poverty. Jack told me that he knew Mynheer Vanderveldt intended to leave me all his property.

"He made his will before he left Batavia, and I am pretty sure he had it with him, so that if any of his chests are washed on shore, as I should know them, there may still be a chance of finding it. Though I am no scholar myself, you might make it out, and some day get what the good man intended to be yours."

So impressed was Jack with this idea that he employed a considerable portion of his time in hunting along the shore for my friend's chests.

Though we did not get them, we found several articles which were of more use to us just then, so that the time was not fruitlessly spent.

We lived in a hut built partly of stones and partly of the wreck, and thus suffered no great hardship. After we had spent three months on the rock we saw a sail in the distance. She approached—our signal was discovered. A boat came and took us off, when we found ourselves on board an English frigate, the Nymph, which had been driven by a gale out of her course. Had it not been for this circumstance we might have remained on the rock many months longer, or till we had all died of starvation.

Captain Biddell sent for me, and desired to know who I was.

"That's more than I can very well tell you, sir," I answered in the broken English I then spoke; "but my friend Jack Headland can tell you more about me than I can."

He accordingly sent for Jack, who told him all he knew. He seemed, by his remarks, to have some doubts of the truth of the story.

"Well, all I can do is to enter you both on the ship's books," he observed. "I shall see how the boy behaves himself and act accordingly."

Jack was asked by what name I should be entered.

"I'll give him mine," he answered. "I don't want him to be a Dutchman, and I don't know any other to call him by."

And so I was entered as young Jack Headland, and young Jack I was called ever afterwards, while he was known as old Jack, though he was not very old either, for he was still a fine active young fellow.

"You heard what the captain said," observed old Jack to me. "What you have got to look after is to behave yourself and to do your duty. Though he is somewhat cross-grained in his manner, he is all right at bottom, or the ship would not be in the good order she is, or the men so well contented. Though I have never served on board a man-of-war before I can judge of that."

I followed Jack's advice, and having shifted my shore-going clothes, which were pretty nearly worn out, for a seaman's suit, I was soon able to do my duty as well as any of the other boys in the ship.

Captain Fancourt was then first lieutenant of the frigate, and having heard Jack's account he spoke to me and found that at all events I was a young gentleman in manners and education.

"Do you wish to keep your present knowledge, my lad?" he asked one day, calling me to him. "It is a pity you should lose what you know."

I replied that I especially wished to do so, but that I had no books, and should find it a hard matter to read them for'ard, even if I had.

"Very well," he answered. "You shall come to my cabin every day, and I will assist you in your studies."

The other officers following his example, also took me in hand. The master gave me lessons in mathematics and navigation, and the purser taught me writing and arithmetic, so that though I was still berthed for'ard I had advantages which even the midshipmen did not possess. They, in a short time, finding I was a gentleman in manners, applied for leave to the captain, and I was admitted into their berth. I do not know that I gained much by the change in some respects, but I was glad to escape from the rough boys with whom I had at first to associate. I still did duty as a ship's boy, and by this means Jack was able to instruct me in knotting and splicing, and other minutiae of a seaman's education, which I found especially useful.

We had been in the Indian Seas about three years, chiefly engaged in protecting British merchantmen from the pirates which swarmed there. The boats had been sent away in chase of three or four of their craft, cut off from a piratical fleet which were endeavouring to make their escape along shore. My friend Jack belonged to the second cutter. Night came on, and the frigate stood after the boats, making signals for their return. Three of the boats at length got alongside, but the second cutter did not appear. The weather changed—a heavy gale sprang up, and we were compelled to stand out to sea. As soon as the weather moderated, we returned and cruised up and down the coast, the boats being sent on shore at various places; but nothing could be seen of the second cutter, and we had every reason to fear that the officer in charge of her and all hands, had either been killed or fallen into the power of the pirates. I was very much cut up at the loss of my kind friend, who had indeed acted like a father towards me. The captain sent for me into his cabin, and expressed his regret at the loss of my old protector.

"I wish to make all the amends I can to you, my lad," he said. "As your conduct has been thoroughly to my satisfaction since you came on board, and as there is now a vacancy by the death of Mr Watson (the midshipman lost in the boat), I will place you on the quarter-deck and give you the rating of a midshipman."

I thanked him very much; but I remember saying, "I would rather old Jack were alive though."

"I appreciate your feeling, my lad," he answered; "but even if he does return I won't disrate you, and I will see how we can best manage to get you an outfit."

Thus by the loss of my honest friend, whom I greatly lamented, I got my first step on the ratlines.

After a further search for the missing boat we left the coast, and soon afterwards going to Calcutta received our orders to return home.

Your uncle has been my friend ever since. He obtained his promotion on our arrival in England, and was at once appointed to the command of the Ariel, corvette, in which I accompanied him to the West Indies, where we were actively engaged, and I had there the opportunity I had so much wished for of performing two or three acts which gained me credit. I was still more anxious than ever to make a name for myself, as since the loss of my protector, Jack Headland, I had no possible clue by which to discover my parents with the exception of the gold chain, which I wore round my neck, and which I still preserved. A small bundle containing a child's clothes and shoes, and the figure of an Indian tumbler, which were found in Jack's kit, I felt sure had belonged to me. Whether or not they are sufficient to identify me I am very doubtful. Not wishing to throw a chance away I deposited them for safety with my agents in London.