Paddy Finn

W H G Kingston

"Paddy Finn"

Chapter One.

The home of my ancestors.

“The top of the morning to you, Terence,” cried the major, looking down upon me from the window of his bedroom.

I was standing in front of the castle of Ballinahone—the seat of the O’Finnahans, my ancestors—on the banks of the beautiful Shannon, enjoying the fresh air of the early morning.

“Send Larry up, will you, with a jug of warm water for shaving; and, while I think of it, tell Biddy to brew me a cup of hot coffee. It will be some time before breakfast is ready, and my hand isn’t as steady as it once was till I’ve put something into my inside.”

The old house had not been provided with bells for summoning the attendants; a loud shout, a clap of the hands, or the clatter of fire-irons, answering the purpose.

“Shure, Larry was sent to meet the postboy, uncle, and I’ll be after taking you up the warm water; but Biddy maybe will not have come in from milking the cows, so if Dan Bourke is awake, and will give me the key of the cellar, mightn’t I be bringing you up a glass of whisky?” I asked, knowing the taste of most of the guests at the castle.

“Arrah, boy, don’t be tempting me!” cried the major in a half-angry tone; “that morning nip is the bane of too many of us. Go and do as I bid you.”

I was about entering the house to perform the duty I had undertaken, when I caught sight of my foster-brother, Larry Harrigan, galloping up the avenue, mounted on the bare back of a shaggy little pony, its mane and tail streaming in the breeze.

“Hurrah! hurrah! yer honour; I’ve got it,” he cried, as he waved a letter above his carroty and hatless pate. “I wouldn’t have been after getting it at all, at all, for the spalpeen of a postboy wanted tinpence before he would give it me, but sorra a copper had I in my pocket, and I should have had to come away without it, if Mr McCarthy, the bailiff, hadn’t been riding by, and paid the money for me.”

I took the letter; and telling Larry, after he had turned the pony into the yard, to bring up the warm water and the cup of hot coffee, I hurried, with the official-looking document in my hand, up to my uncle’s room. He met me at the door, dressed in his trousers and shirt, his shirt-sleeves tucked up in order to perform his ablutions, exhibiting his brawny arms, scarred with many a wound,—his grizzled hair uncombed, his tall figure looking even more gaunt than usual without the military coat in which I was accustomed to see him. He eagerly took the letter.

“Come in, my boy, and sit down on the foot of the bed while I see what my friend Macnamara writes in answer to my request,” he said, as he broke the seal, and with a deliberation which didn’t suit my eagerness, opened a large sheet of foolscap paper, which he held up to the light that he might read it more easily.

While he was thus engaged, Larry brought up the warm water and the cup of steaming coffee, and, with a look at the major’s back which betokened anything but respect, because it was not a glass of whisky, placed the jug and cup on the table. Larry was, I must own, as odd-looking an individual as ever played the part of valet. His shock head of hair was unacquainted with comb or brush; his grey coat reached to his calves; his breeches were open at the knees; his green waistcoat, too short to reach the latter garment, was buttoned awry; huge brogues encased his feet, and a red handkerchief, big enough to serve as the royal of a frigate, was tied loosely round his neck. He stood waiting for further orders, when the major, turning round to take a sip of coffee, by a sign bade him begone, and he vanished.

Major McMahon, my mother’s uncle, was an old officer, who, having seen much service for the better part of half a century,—his sword being his only patrimony,—on retiring from the army had come to live with us at Castle Ballinahone when I was a mere slip of a boy. Knowing the world well,—having been taught prudence by experience, though he had never managed to save any of his pay or prize-money, and was as poor as when he first carried the colours,—he was of the greatest service to my father, who, like many another Irish gentleman of those days, knew nothing of the world, and possessed but a small modicum of the quality I have mentioned. The major, seeing the way matters were going at Castle Ballinahone, endeavoured to set an example of sobriety to the rest of the establishment by abstaining altogether from his once favourite beverage of rum shrub and whisky punch, although he had a head which the strongest liquor would have failed to affect, and he was therefore well able to manage everything on the estate with prudence, and as much economy as the honour of the family would allow. My father was an Irish gentleman, every inch of him. He delighted to keep up the habits and customs of the country, which, to say the best of them, were not calculated to serve his own interests or those of his family. He was kind-hearted and generous; and if it had not been for the rum shrub, and whisky-toddy, and the hogsheads of claret which found their way into his cellar, and thence into his own and his guests’ insides, he would have been happy and prosperous, with few cares to darken his doors. But the liquor, however good in itself, proved a treacherous friend, as it served him a scurvy trick in return for the affection he had shown to it, leaving him a martyr to the gout, which, while it held sway over him, soured his otherwise joyous and happy spirits. It made him occasionally seem harsh even to us, though he was in the main one of the kindest and most indulgent of fathers. He was proud of his family, of his estate,—or what remained of it,—of his children, and, more than all, of his wife; and just reason he had to be so of the latter, for she was as excellent a mother as ever breathed, with all the attractive qualities of an Irish lady. That means a mighty deal; for I have since roamed the world over, and never have I found any of their sex to surpass my fair countrywomen.

I must describe our family mansion. Enough of the old building remained to allow it still to be called a castle. A round tower or keep, with two of the ancient walls surmounted by battlements, stood as they had done for centuries, when the castle had often defied a hostile force; but the larger portion had been pulled down and replaced by a plain structure, more commodious, perhaps, but as ugly as could well be designed. Round it ran a moat, over which was a drawbridge,—no longer capable of being drawn up,—while a flight of stone steps led to the entrance door, ungraced by a porch. The large hall, the walls of which were merely whitewashed, with a roof of plain oak, had from its size an imposing appearance. The walls of the hall were decked with firearms,—muskets, pistols, arquebuses, blunderbusses,—pikes, and halberts, symmetrically arranged in stars or other devices; stags’ horns, outstretched eagles’ wings, extended skins of kites, owls, and king-fishers, together with foxes’ brushes, powder-flasks, shot-pouches, fishing-rods, nets, and dogs’ collars; while in the corners stood four figures, clothed in complete suits of armour, with lances in their hands, or arquebuses on their arms.

Over the front door were the skin and wings of an enormous eagle, holding a dagger in its mouth,—the device of our family. A similar device in red brick-work was to be seen on the wall above the entrance on the outside. Paint had been sparsely used,—paper not at all,—many of the rooms being merely whitewashed, though the more important were wainscotted with brown oak, and others with plain deal on which the scions of our race had for several generations exercised their artistic skill, either with knives, hot irons, or chalk. The breakfast and dining-rooms, which opened from the great hall, were wainscotted, their chief embellishments being some old pictures in black frames, and a number of hunting, shooting, and racing prints, with red tape round them to serve the purpose of frames; while the library so-called was worthy of being the habitation of an ascetic monk, though two of the walls were covered with book-shelves which contained but few books, and they served chiefly to enable countless spiders to form their traps for unwary flies, while a table covered with green cloth and three wooden chairs formed its only furniture.

The bedrooms were numerous enough to accommodate the whole of our large family, and an almost unlimited number of guests, who, on grand occasions, were stowed away in them, crop and heels. The less said about the elegance of the furniture the better; or of the tea and breakfast services, which might once have been uniform, but, as most of the various pieces had gone the way of all crockery, others of every description of size and shape had taken their places, till scarcely two were alike; but that didn’t detract from our happiness or the pleasure of our guests, who, probably from their own services being in the same condition, scarcely noticed this.

I had long had a desire to go to sea, partly from reading Captain Berkeley’s History of the Navy, Robinson Crusoe, and the Adventures of Peter Wilkins, and partly from taking an occasional cruise on the Shannon,—that queen of rivers, which ran her course past the walls of Ballinahone, to mingle with the ocean, through the fair city of Limerick.

Often had I stood on the banks, watching the boats gliding down on the swift current, and listening to the songs of the fishermen, which came from far away up the stream!

I had, as most boys would have done, talked to my mother, and pestered my father and uncle, till the latter agreed to write to an old friend of his in the navy to consult him as to the best means of enabling me to gratify my wishes.

But I have been going ahead to talk of my family, forgetful of my honoured uncle, the major. He conned the letter, holding it in his two hands, now in one light, now in another, knitting his thick grey eyebrows to see the better, and compressing his lips. I watched him all the time, anxious to learn the contents, and yet knowing full well that it would not do to interrupt him. At last he came to the bottom of the page.

“It’s just like him!” he exclaimed. “Terence, my boy, you’ll have the honour of wearing His Majesty’s uniform, as I have done for many a long year, though yours will be blue and mine is red; and you’ll bring no discredit on your cloth, I’ll be your surety for it.”

“Thank you, uncle, for your good opinion of me,” I said. “And am I really to become a midshipman, and wear a cockade in my hat, and a dirk by my side?”

“Within a few days you may be enjoying that happiness, my boy,” answered the major. “My old friend, Captain Macnamara, writes me word that he’ll receive you on board the Liffy frigate, which, by a combination of circumstances, is now lying in Cork Harbour,—fortunate for us, but which might have proved disastrous to her gallant officers and crew, for she was dismasted in a gale, and was within an ace of being driven on shore. But a miss is as good as a mile; and when under jury-masts she scraped clear of the rocks, and got into port in safety. Here my letter, after wandering about for many a day, found him, and he has lost no time in replying to it. One of his midshipmen having gone overboard in the gale, he can give you his berth; but mind you, Terence, don’t go and be doing the same thing.”

“Not if I can help it, uncle,” I replied. “And Larry? will he take Larry? The boy has set his heart upon going to sea, and it would be after breaking if he were parted from me. He has been talking about it every day since he knew that I thought of going; and I promised him I would beg hard that he might go with me.”

“As Captain Macnamara says that the Liffy has had several men killed in action, I have no doubt that a stout lad like Larry will not be refused; so you may tell him that when he volunteers, I’ll answer for his being accepted,” was the answer.

“Thank you, uncle; it will make him sing at the top of his voice when he hears that,” I said. “And when are we to be off?”

“To-morrow, or the day after, at the furthest,” answered the major. “I intend to go with you to introduce you to your captain, and to have a talk with him over old times.”

“Then may I run and tell my father and mother, and Maurice, and Denis, and the girls?”

“To be sure, boy; but you mustn’t be surprised if they are not as delighted to hear of your going, as you are to go,” he answered, as I bolted out of the room.

I found my brothers turning out of bed, and gave them a full account of the captain’s letter. They took the matter coolly.

“I wish you joy,” said Maurice, who was expecting shortly to get his commission in our uncle’s old regiment. I then went to the girls, who were by this time dressed. Kathleen and Nora congratulated me warmly.

“And shure are you going to be a real midshipman?” said Nora. “I wish I was a boy myself, that I might go to sea, and pull, and haul, and dance a hornpipe.”

They, at all events, didn’t seem so much cast down as my uncle supposed they would be. My father had just been wheeled out of his chamber into the breakfast room, for he was suffering from an attack of his sworn enemy.

“Keep up the honour of the O’Finnahans, my boy; and you’ll only do that by performing your duty,” he said, patting me on the back,—for shaking hands was a ceremony he was unwilling to venture on with his gouty fingers.

My mother was later than usual. I hurried off to her room. As she listened to my account her eyes were fixed on me till they became filled with tears.

“You have chosen a rough life, Terence; but may God protect you,” she said, throwing her arms round my neck, and kissing my brow. “I could not prevent your going even if I would, as your uncle has accepted Captain Macnamara’s offer; for a profession you must have, and it is a fine one, I’ve no doubt. But wherever you go, my dear boy, remember that the thoughts of those at home will be following you.”

More she said to the same effect. When she at length released me, I hurried out to tell Larry, Dan Bourke, and the rest of the domestics. At first Larry looked very downcast; but when he heard that he was to go too, he gave expression to his joy in a wild shout, which rang through the kitchen. Biddy, the cook, and the other females were not so heroic as my sisters, for they began to pipe their eyes in a way I couldn’t stand, so I ran off to the breakfast room; whether it was at the thoughts of losing Larry or me, I didn’t stop to consider. My speedy departure to become a son of Neptune was the only subject of conversation during the morning meal. It was agreed that to enable me to make a respectable appearance on board His Majesty’s frigate, I ought to be provided with a uniform; and a message was despatched to Pat Cassidy, the family tailor, to appear forthwith, and exercise his skill in manufacturing the necessary costume. The major, who had frequently been at sea, believed that he could give directions for shaping the garments correctly; and as all were agreed that blue was the required colour, he presented me with a cloth cloak, which, though it had seen some service, was considered suitable for the purpose.

Pat Cassidy soon arrived with his shears and tape; and being installed in a little room, where he was sure of not being interrupted, took my measure, and set to work, under the major’s directions, to cut out and stitch a coat and breeches in what was considered approved nautical fashion. The difficulty was the buttons; but my mother fortunately discovered a moth-eaten coat and waistcoat of a naval lieutenant, a relative, who had paid a visit to Castle Ballinahone many years before, and, having been killed in action shortly afterwards, had never returned to claim his garments. There being fewer buttons than the major considered necessary, Pat Cassidy proposed eking them out with a few military ones sewn on in the less conspicuous parts. Meantime, my mother and sisters and the maids were as busily engaged in preparing the rest of my kit, carrying off several of my brothers’ shirts and stockings, which they faithfully promised in due time to replace. “Where there’s a will there’s a way,” and before night, Pat Cassidy, aided by the busy maids, had performed his task, as had my mother and sisters theirs; and it was considered that I was fairly fitted out for my new career, the major promising to get for me at Cork such other things as I might require.

With intense satisfaction I put on my uniform, of which, though the gold lace was somewhat tarnished, and the buttons not over bright, I was mightily proud. My father presented me with a sword, which had been my grandfather’s. It was of antique make, and, being somewhat rusty, was evidently unwilling to leave the scabbard. Nora, notwithstanding, proudly girded it on my side by a broad leathern belt with a huge silver clasp, which I thought had a very handsome appearance. I little dreamed that my costume was not altogether according to the rules and regulations of the naval service. The coat was long in the waist, and longer in the skirts, which were looped back with gold lace, Pat having also surrounded the cuffs with a band of the same material. The inside was lined with white silk, and there were patches of white cloth on the collar. The waistcoat, which came down to my hips, was of flowered silk, made out of one of my great-grandmother’s petticoats, which had long been laid by, and was now by unanimous consent devoted to my use. The breeches were very full, Pat observing that I should be after growing rapidly on the salt sea, and would require room in them. White cotton stockings covered the lower part of my legs, and huge silver buckles adorned my shoes; a cockade, manufactured by my uncle, was stuck in my hat; while a frilled shirt and red silk handkerchief tied round my neck completed my elegant costume. Having once donned my uniform,—if so it could be called,—I was unwilling to take it off again; and, highly delighted with my appearance, I paced about the hall for some time. My father watched me, while he laughed till the tears streamed from his eyes to see me draw my sword and make an onslaught on one of the mailed warriors in the corner.

“Hurrah, Terence! Bravo! bravo!” cried Maurice. “But just be after remembering that a live enemy won’t stand so quiet as old Brian Boru there.”

The toils of the day over, my father, in spite of his gout, was wheeled into the supper room, when he, in a glass of the strongest whisky-toddy, and my uncle in one of old claret, drank my health and success in the naval career I was about to enter, my brothers joining them in other beverages; and I am very sure that my fond mother more effectually prayed that I might be protected from the perils and dangers to which I should be exposed.

Chapter Two.

I commence my journey to Cork.

It was on a fine spring morning, the birds carolling sweetly in the trees, that I set forth, accompanied by my uncle and Larry Harrigan, to commence my career on the stormy ocean. My father had been wheeled to the hall door, my mother stood by his side with her handkerchief to her eyes, my sisters grouped round her, my brothers outside tossing up their hats as they shouted their farewells,—their example being imitated by the domestics and other retainers of the house. The major rode a strong horse suitable to his weight. He was dressed in his red long-skirted, gold-laced coat, boots reaching above his knees, large silver spurs, three-cornered hat on the top of his wig, with a curl on each side, his natural hair being plaited into a queue behind. A brace of pistols was stuck in his leathern belt, while a sword, with the hilt richly ornamented,—the thing he prized most on earth, it having been presented to him for his gallantry at the capture of an enemy’s fort, when he led the forlorn hope,—hung by his side. I was mounted on my own horse, my legs for the journey being encased in boots. A cloak was hung over my shoulders; I also had a brace of pistols—the gift of my brother Maurice—in my belt; while in my hand I carried a heavy riding-whip, as did my uncle, serving both to urge on our steeds, and to defend ourselves against the sudden attack of an unexpected foe. Larry followed on a pony, with uncombed mane and tail, its coat as shaggy as a bear’s; his only weapon a shillelah; his dress such as he usually wore on Sundays and holidays. I need not describe the partings which had previously taken place. The major gave the word “Forward!” and we trotted down the avenue at a rapid rate. I could not refrain from giving a lingering look behind. My sisters waved their handkerchiefs; my mother had too much use for hers to do so; my brothers cheered again and again; and I saw Larry half pulled from his pony, as his fellow-servants gripped him by the hands; and two or three damsels, more demonstrative than the rest, ran forward to receive his parting salutes. My chest, I should have said, was to come by the waggon, which would arrive at Cork long before the ship sailed. The more requisite articles, such as changes of linen and spare shoes, were packed in valises strapped to Larry’s and my cruppers; while the major carried such things as he required in his saddle-bags. We soon lost sight of the Shannon, and the top of the castle tower appearing above the trees. For some time we rode on in silence, but as neither my respected relative nor I were accustomed to hold our tongues, we soon let them wag freely. He talked as we rode on in his usual hearty way, giving me accounts of his adventures in many lands. Larry kept behind us, not presuming to come up and join in the conversation. He was of too happy a spirit to mind riding alone, while he relieved himself by cracking jokes with the passers-by. I have spoken of his warm affection for me. He also—notwithstanding his rough outside—possessed a talent for music, and could not only sing a capital song, but had learned to play the violin from an old fiddler, Peter McLeary, who had presented him with an instrument, which he valued like the apple of his eye. He now carried it in its case, strapped carefully on behind him. We rode on too fast to allow of his playing it, as I have seen him do on horseback many a time, when coming from marriages or wakes, where he was consequently in great request. We made a long day’s journey, having rested a couple of hours to bait our horses; and not reaching the town of Kilmore till long after sundown.

The assizes were taking place. The judge and lawyers, soldiers, police, and witnesses, filled every house in the town. Consequently the only inn at which we could hope to obtain accommodation was crowded. All the guests had retired to their rooms; but the landlady, Mrs Mccarthy, who knew my uncle, undertook to put us up. Larry took the horses round to the stables, where he would find his sleeping place, and we entered the common room. Mrs McCarthy was the only person in the establishment who seemed to have any of her wits about her. The rest of the inmates who were still on foot had evidently imbibed a larger amount of the potheen than their heads could stand, she herself being even more genial than usual.

“Shure, major dear, there are two gentlemen of the bar up-stairs who don’t know their feet from their heads; and as your honour will be rising early to continue your journey, we’ll just tumble them out on the floor, and you can take their bed. We’ll put them back again before they wake in the morning; or if we’re after forgetting it, they’ll only think they have rolled out of their own accord, and nobody’ll be blamed, or they be the worse for it; and they’ll have reason to be thankful, seeing that if they had really tumbled on the floor, they might have broken their necks.”

My uncle, who would on no account agree to this hospitable proposal, insisted on sitting up in an arm-chair, with his legs on another, assuring Mrs McCarthy that he had passed many a night with worse accommodation.

“Shure, then, the young gentleman must go to bed,” observed the hostess. “There’s one I’ve got for him in the kitchen,—a little snug cupboard by the fireside; and shure he’ll there be as warm and comfortable as a mouse in its hole.”

To this the major agreed, as the bed was not big enough for both of us, and indeed was too short for him.

Supper being ended, my uncle composed himself in the position he intended to occupy, with his cloak wrapped round him, and I accompanied Mrs McCarthy into the kitchen, which was in a delightful state of disorder. She here let down, from a little niche in which it was folded, a small cupboard-bed, on which, though the sheets and blankets were not very clean, I was not sorry to contemplate a night’s rest. The landlady, wishing me good-night, withdrew to her own quarters. Molly, the maid-servant, I should have said, long before this, overcome by the sips she had taken at the invitation of the guests, was stowed away in a corner somewhere out of sight.

Pulling off my boots and laced coat and waistcoat, which I stowed for safe keeping under the pillow, I turned into bed by the light of the expiring embers of the fire, and in a few seconds afterwards was fast asleep. I was not conscious of waking for a single moment during the night; and had I been called, should have said that only a few minutes had passed since I had closed my eyes, when, to my horror, all at once I found myself in a state of suffocation, with my head downwards, pressed closely between the bolster and pillow, and my feet in the air. Every moment I thought would be my last. I struggled as violently as my confined position would allow, unable, in my confusion, to conceive where I was, or what had happened. I in vain tried to shout out; when I opened my mouth, the feather pillow filled it, and no sound escaped. I felt much as, I suppose, a person does drowning. Thoughts of all sorts rushed into my mind, and I believed that I was doomed to an ignominious exit from this sublunary scene, when suddenly there came a crash, and, shot out into the middle of the room, I lay sprawling on the floor, unable to rise or help myself, my head feeling as if all the blood in my body had rushed into it. The button which had kept the foot of the shut-up-bed in its place had given way.

“Murder! murder!” I shouted out, believing that some diabolical attempt had been made to take my life.

“Murther! murther!” echoed Molly, who, broom in hand, was engaged at the further end of the kitchen. “Och, somebody has been kilt entirely.” And, frightened at the spectacle I exhibited, she rushed out of the room to obtain assistance.

My cries and hers had aroused Mrs Mccarthy, who rushed in, followed by the waiting-man and my uncle, who, gazing at me as I lay on the floor, and seeing that I was almost black in the face, ordered one of the servants to run off for the apothecary, to bleed me. In the meantime, Mrs Mccarthy had hurried out for a pitcher of cold water. Having dashed some over my face, she poured out several glasses, which I swallowed one after the other, and by the time the apothecary had arrived had so far recovered as to be able to dispense with his services. Molly confessed to having got up at daylight, and begun to set matters to rights in the kitchen; and, not observing me, supposing that her mistress—who usually occupied the bed—had risen, she had hoisted it up into its niche, and had turned the button at the top to keep it in its place. Had not the button given way, my adventures, I suspect, would have come to an untimely termination.

Having performed my ablutions, with the assistance of Mrs McCarthy, in a basin of cold water, I was perfectly ready for breakfast, and very little the worse for what had happened. Our meal was a hearty one, for my uncle, like an old soldier, made it a rule to stow away on such occasions a liberal supply of provisions, which might last him, if needs be, for the remainder of the day, or far into the next.

Breakfast over, he ordered round the horses, and we recommenced our journey. After riding some distance, on turning round, I perceived that Larry was not following us.

“He knows the road we’re going, and will soon overtake us,” said my uncle.

We rode on and on, however, and yet Larry didn’t appear. I began to feel uneasy, and at last proposed turning back to ascertain if any accident had happened to him. He would surely not have remained behind of his own free will. He had appeared perfectly sober when he brought me my horse to mount; besides which, I had never known Larry drunk in his life,—which was saying a great deal in his favour, considering the example he had had set him by high and low around.

“We’ll ride on slowly, and if he doesn’t catch us up we’ll turn back to look for the spalpeen, though the delay will be provoking,” observed the major.

Still Larry did not heave in sight.

The country we were now traversing was as wild as any in Ireland. High hills on one side with tall trees, and more hills on the other, completely enclosed the road, so that it often appeared as if there was no outlet ahead. The road itself was rough in the extreme, scarcely allowing of the passage of a four-wheeled vehicle; indeed, our horses had in some places to pick their way, and rapid movement was impossible—unless at the risk of breaking the rider’s neck, or his horse’s knees. Those celebrated lines had not been written:—

“If you had seen but these roads before they were made,
You’d have lift up your hands and blessed General Wade.”

I had, however, been used to ground of all sorts, and was not to be stopped by such trifling impediments as rocks, bushes, stone walls, or streams.

“Something must have delayed Larry,” I said at length. “Let me go back, uncle, and find him, while you ride slowly on.”

“No, I’ll go with you, Terence. We shall have to make a short journey instead of a long one, if the gossoon has been detained in Kilmore; and I haven’t clapped eyes on him since we left the town.”

We were on the point of turning our horses’ heads to go back, when suddenly, from behind the bushes and rocks on either side of the road, a score of ruffianly-looking fellows, dressed in the ordinary costume of Irish peasants, rushed out and sprang towards us, some threatening to seize our reins, and others pointing muskets, blunderbusses, and pistols at us. Those not possessing these weapons were armed with shillelahs. One of the fellows, with long black hair and bushy beard,—a hideous squint adding to the ferocity of his appearance,—advanced with a horse-pistol in one hand, the other outstretched as if to seize the major’s rein. At the same time a short but strongly-built ruffian, with a humpback, sprang towards me, evidently intending to drag me off my horse, or to haul the animal away, so that I might be separated from my companion.

“Keep close to my side, Terence,” he said in a low voice. “Out with your pistol, and cover that villain approaching.”

At the moment, as he spoke, his sword flashed in the sunlight, and with the back of the blade he struck up the weapon of his assailant, which exploded in the air. He was about to bring down the sharp edge on the fellow’s head, when a dozen others, with shrieks and shouts, rushed towards us, some forcing themselves in between our horses, while others, keeping on the other side of the major, seized his arms at the risk of being cut down. Several grasped his legs and stirrups. His horse plunged and reared, but they nimbly avoided the animal’s heels. Two of the gang held the horse’s head down by the reins, while an attempt was made to drag the rider from his seat. They doubtless thought if they could master him, that I should become an easy prey. Their object, I concluded, was to make us prisoners, rather than to take our lives, which they might have done at any moment by shooting us with their firearms. Still our position was very far from an agreeable one. My uncle, who had not spoken another word, firmly kept his seat, notwithstanding the efforts of the ruffian crew to pull him off his saddle. In the meantime, the hunchback, whose task, it seemed, was to secure me, came on, fixing his fierce little eyes on my pistol, which I fancied was pointed at his head.

“If you come an inch further, I’ll fire,” I cried out.

He answered by a derisive laugh, followed by an unearthly shriek, given apparently to unnerve me; and then, as he saw my finger on the trigger, he ducked his head, as if about to spring into the water. The pistol went off, the bullet passing above him. The next instant, rising and springing forward, he clutched my throat, while another fellow caught hold of my rein.

Chapter Three.

We meet with further adventures.

In spite of my uncle’s skill as a swordsman, and the pistols, on which I had placed so much reliance, we were overpowered before we could strike a blow in our own defence, and were completely at the mercy of our assailants. The major, however, all the time didn’t lose his coolness and self-possession.

“What are you about to do, boys?” he asked. “You have mistaken us for others. We are travellers bound to Cork, not wishing to interfere with you or any one else.”

“We know you well enough, Major McMahon,” answered the leader of the gang. “If you’re not the man we want, you’ll serve our purpose. But understand, we’ll have no nonsense. If you come peaceably we’ll not harm you; we bear you no grudge. But if you make further resistance, or attempt to escape, you must take the consequences; we care no more for a man’s life than we do for that of a calf.” The ruffian thundered out the last words at the top of his voice.

“Who are you, my friend, who talk so boldly?” asked the major.

“If you want to know, I’m Dan Hoolan himself, and you may have heard of my doings throughout the country.”

“I have heard of a scoundrel of that name, who has murdered a few helpless people, and who is the terror of old women; but whether or not you’re the man, is more than I can say,” answered the major in a scornful tone.

“Blood and ’ounds, is that the way you speak to me?” cried Hoolan, for there could be no doubt that he was the notorious outlaw. “I’ll soon be after showing you that it’s not only women I frighten. Bring these fine-coated gentlemen along, boys, and we’ll set them dangling to a branch of Saint Bridget’s oak, to teach their likes better manners. Och, boys, it’ll be rare fun to see them kick their legs in the air, till their sowls have gone back to where they came from.”

I fully believed the outlaws were going to treat us as their leader proposed.

“You dare do nothing of the sort, boys,” said my uncle.

“You know well enough that if you ill-treat us there will be a hue and cry after you, and that before many weeks have passed by, one and all of you will be caught and gibbeted.”

“That’s more aisy to say than to do,” answered Hoolan.

“Bring them along, boys; and mind you don’t let them escape you.”

“Sorra’s the chance of that,” cried the men, hanging on tighter to our legs. We were thus led forward, still being allowed to keep our seats in our saddles, but without a chance of effecting our escape, though I observed that my uncle’s eye was ranging round to see what could be done. He looked down on me. I daresay I was paler than usual, though I did my best to imitate his coolness.

“Keep up your spirits, Terence,” he said. “I don’t believe that those fellows intend to carry out their threats. Though why they have made us prisoners is beyond my comprehension.”

Some of our captors growled out something, but what it was I could not understand, though I think it was a hint to the major and me to hold our tongues. The hunchback kept close to me, having released my throat, and merely held on to me by one of my legs. Hoolan himself stalked at our head, with the pistol, which he had reloaded, in his hand. The men talked among themselves in their native Irish, but didn’t address another word to us. They seemed eager to push on, but the character of the road prevented our moving out of a foot’s pace. On and on we went, till we saw a group of large trees ahead. Hoolan pointed to them with a significant gesture. His followers, with loud shouts, hurried us forward. I now observed that two of them had coils of rope under their arms. They were of no great strength, but sufficient to bear the weight of an ordinary man. We quickly reached the trees, when the outlaws made us dismount under one, which, I remarked, had a wide extending bough, about fifteen feet from the ground. My uncle now began to look more serious than before, as if, for the first time, he really believed that our captors would carry out their threats.

“Terence, we must try and free ourselves from these ruffians,” he said. “I have no care for myself, but I don’t want your young life to be taken from you. Keep your eyes about you, and if you can manage to spring into your saddle, don’t pull rein until you have put a good distance between yourself and them.”

“I could not think of going, and leaving you in the hands of the ruffians, Uncle McMahon,” I answered. “I’ll beg them to spare your life, and will promise them any reward they may demand,—a hundred, or two hundred pounds. Surely they would rather have the money than take your life.”

“Don’t promise them anything of the sort,” he said. “If they were to obtain it, they would be seizing every gentleman they could get hold of. Their object is not money, or they would have robbed us before this. Do as I tell you, and be on the watch to escape while they are trying to hang me. I’ll take care to give you a good chance.”

While he was speaking they were throwing the ropes over the bough, and ostentatiously making nooses at the end of each of them. They were not very expert, and failed several times in throwing the other end over the bough. The ends of each of the ropes were grasped by three men, who looked savagely at us, as if they were especially anxious to see our necks in the opposite nooses, and apparently only waiting the order from their chief.

“If you have prayers to say, you had better say them now,” cried the leader of the outlaws.

“It’s time to speak to you now, Dan Hoolan,” said my uncle, as if he had not heard the last remark. “Whether you really intend to hang us or not, I can’t say; but if you do, vengeance is sure to overtake you. To kill an old man would be a dastardly deed, but doubly accursed would you be should you deprive a young lad like this of his life. If you have no pity on me, have regard to your own soul. There’s not a priest in the land who would give you absolution.”

“Hould there, and don’t speak another word,” shouted Hoolan. “I have given you the chance of praying, and you wouldn’t take it, so it’s yourselves will have to answer for it. Quick, boys, bring them along.”

Our captors were leading us forward, and, as I had no wish to lose my life, I was looking out for an opportunity of obeying my uncle’s instructions, when, with a strength which those who held him could not have supposed he possessed, knocking down one on either side, he threw himself upon Hoolan, who, not expecting such an attack, was brought to the ground. At the same moment the major, drawing a knife which the ruffian had in his belt, held it as if to strike him to the heart. The hunchback, seeing the danger of his leader, regardless of me, rushed forward to his assistance; when, finding myself at liberty, I darted towards my horse, which was held by one only of the men, who, eagerly watching the strife, did not observe me. Twisting his shillelah from his hands, and snatching the reins, I was in a moment in the saddle; but I had no intention of deserting my uncle. Firmly grasping the shillelah, I laid it about the heads of the men who were on the point of seizing the major. Hoolan, however, was completely at his mercy; and had they ventured to touch him, one blow of the knife would have ended the villain’s life, though probably his companions would have revenged his death by shooting us the moment after. But just then loud shouts were heard in the distance, and a party of men on horseback, whom no one had observed, were seen galloping at a tearing rate towards us.

“Hoora! hoora! Tim Phelan’s gained his cause!” shouted a horseman. “He’s proved an alibi, and been set free by the judge.”

Our captors, on hearing the shouts, turned to greet the new-comers, forgetting for the moment their previous intention and their leader, who lay on the ground, the major still holding his knife at his throat. Presently, who should I see riding out from the crowd but Larry Harrigan himself.

“Thunder and ’ounds!” he exclaimed. “What were they going to do to you? Shure I never thought they’d have ventured on that.”

He now came up to Hoolan with my uncle bending over him.

“Spare his life, major dear,” he exclaimed. “He never intended to kill you; and if you’ll let him go I’ll tell your honour all about it by and by.”

“Is this the case, Dan Hoolan?” asked my uncle. “On your soul, man, did you not intend to put your threat into execution?”

“No, I didn’t, as I’m a living man,” said the outlaw, as, released by my uncle, he rose to his feet.

“I’ll tell your honour. I wanted to see how you and your young nephew would face the death I threatened; and I intended at the last moment to release you both if you would promise to take a message to the judge who was trying Tim Phelan, swearing that he was free of the murder of Mick Purcell, and knows no more about it than a babe unborn; for there’s one amongst us who did the deed, and they may catch him if they can.”

This announcement completely changed the aspect of affairs. The outlaws brought us our horses, and with many apologies for the trouble they had given us, assisted us to mount.

“I’m not the man to harbour ill-feeling against any one,” said the major, turning to the crowd of apparently humble-looking peasants. “But, my boys, I’d advise you to follow a better calling without delay. And now I’ll wish you good morning. If we ever meet again, may it be under pleasanter circumstances.”

Though the greater part of those present didn’t understand what he said, the rest interpreted it in their own fashion: the outlaws and the new-comers raising a loud cheer, we rode off, followed by Larry, and continued our journey as if nothing particular had occurred.

“And what made you keep behind us, Larry?” asked my uncle, who summoned him up alongside.

“I’ll tell your honour,” answered Larry. I was sleeping in the stables after I’d attended to the horses, when I heard three or four boys talking together; so I opened my eyes to listen, seeing it was something curious they were saying. I soon found that they were talking about Tim Phelan, who was to be tried in the morning. I thin recollected that Tim was my father’s second cousin’s nephew, and so of course I felt an interest in the fate of the boy.

“Says one to the other, ‘If the alibi isn’t proved, shure we’re bound in honour to try and rescue him.’

“‘There are a hundred at least of us bound to do the same,’ answered the other, ‘and of course we’ll find many more to help if we once begin.’

“‘Thin I’ll be one of them,’ I cried out, starting up without thinking that yer honour would be wanting me to continue the journey this morning. Blood is stronger than water, as yer know, major dear, and with the thought of rescuing Tim Phelan, I forgot everything else. When I joined the boys, I found a dozen or more met together, and they made me swear a mighty big oath that I would stick to them till Tim Phelan was acquitted or set free if condemned. So when the morning came, I knew that I could overtake yer honour and Maisther Terence by making my baste move along after the trial was over. As soon as yer honour had started, I went back to my friends, and after some time, while talking to them, I heard that Dan Hoolan was on the road to carry out another plan of his own, in case Tim should be condemned. What it was I didn’t find out for some time, when one of the boys tauld me that Dan intended to get hold of one of the lawyers, or a magistrate, or a gintleman of consequence, and to threaten to hang him if Tim was not set free. I was almost shrinking in my brogues when I thought that Dan Hoolan might be after getting hold of yer honour, but my oath prevented me from setting off till the boys came rushing out of the court saying that Tim was acquitted. I thin tauld them about all I was afraid of, so they jumped on the backs of the horses without waiting to cheer Tim or carry him round the town. It was mighty convanient that we arrived in time; but, major dear, you will see clearly that if I hadn’t stopped behind, there would have been three of us to be hung by Dan instead of two; so well pleased I am that I found out that it was Tim, my father’s second cousin’s nephew, who was going to be tried.”

“Well, master Larry, it’s well for us all that you had your wits about you, so I’ll say nothing more to you for neglecting your orders, which were to follow close at our heels,” observed the major.

“Thank yer honour; but you’ll be after remembering that I didn’t suppose that Dan Hoolan was really going to hang yer honour, or I’d have been in a much more mighty fright at hearing that he was going to have a hand in the matter.”

This little incident will afford some idea of the state of my native country at the time of which I write.

After Larry had given this explanation for his non-appearance, he dropped behind, and my uncle and I rode on side by side, talking of various matters, and whenever the road would permit, putting our horses into a trot or a canter to make up for lost time. Darkness overtook us before we reached the town at which my uncle proposed to stop for the night. I confess that I kept a look-out now on one side, now on the other, lest any more of Dan Hoolan’s gang might be abroad, and have a fancy to examine our valises and pockets. We rode on for nearly three hours in the dark, without meeting, however, with any further adventure. We reached Timahoe, where there being no event of importance taking place, we found sufficient accommodation and food both for man and beast, which was promised on the sign outside, though, to be sure, it could not be seen in the dark, but I observed it the next morning as we rode away.

I must pass over the remainder of the journey till we had got over the greater part of our journey to the fair city of Cork. We had been riding on like peaceable travellers, as we were, when we reached a village, through the centre of which, having nothing to detain us there, we passed on at our usual pace. It appeared quiet enough. The children were tumbling about with the pigs in the mud, and the women peered out of the half-open doors, but seeing who we were, drew in their heads again without addressing us, or replying to any of Larry’s most insinuating greetings.

“There’s something going on, though what it may be is more than I can tell,” remarked my uncle.

Just as we got outside the village, though not a sound reached our ears, we caught sight, coming round a corner on the right, of a party of men, each armed with a shillelah, which he grasped tightly in his right hand, while he looked keenly ahead, as if expecting some one to appear. They had started forward apparently at the sound of our horses’ feet, and stopped on seeing who we were.

“Good evening, boys,” said my uncle, as we rode on. They made no reply.

We had got a little further on when I saw another party on the left coming across the country at a rapid rate. One of them, running forward, inquired if we had seen any of the boys of Pothrine, the name, I concluded, of the village we had just passed through.

“Not a few of them, who are on the look-out for you, boys, and if you’re not wishing for broken heads, you’ll go back the way you came,” answered my uncle.

“Thank yer honour, we’ll chance that,” was the answer, and the man rejoining his party, they advanced towards the village. Scarcely a minute had passed before loud cries, whacks, and howls struck upon our ears.

“They’re at it,” cried my uncle, and turning back we saw two parties hotly engaged in the middle of the road; shillelahs flourishing in the air, descending rapidly to crack crowns or meet opposing weapons. At the same time Larry was seen galloping in hot haste towards the combatants. My uncle called him back, but the noise of the strife must have prevented him from hearing the summons, for he continued his course. I rode after him, being afraid that he was intending to join in the scrimmage, but I was too late to stop him, for, throwing his rein over the stump of a tree which stood convenient at one side of the road, he jumped off, and in a second was in the midst of the fray.

I had often seen faction fights on a small scale in our own neighbourhood, but I had never witnessed such ferocity as was displayed on the present occasion.

Conspicuous among the rest were two big fellows, who carried shillelahs of unusually large proportions. They had singled each other out, being evidently champions of their respective parties, and it was wonderful to observe the dexterity with which they assaulted each other, and defended their heads from blows, which, if delivered as intended, would have crushed their skulls or broken their arms or legs. In vain I shouted to Larry to come out of it, and at last I got so excited myself, that had I possessed a shillelah, I think that, notwithstanding the folly of the action, I should have jumped off my horse and joined in the battle. At length one of the champions was struck to the ground, where three or four others on the same side were already stretched. It was the one, as far as I could make out, that Larry had espoused, and to which the men who had spoken to us belonged. Presently I saw Larry spring out from the crowd, his head bleeding and his coat torn.

On seeing me he shouted, “Be off with yer, Maisther Terence, for they’ll be coming after us,” and running towards his pony, which the tide of battle was approaching, he took the reins and leaped on its back.

Knowing how annoyed my uncle would be if we got into any trouble, I followed Larry’s advice, but not a moment too soon, for the defeated party came scampering along the road, with the victors after them, shrieking and yelling like a party of madmen let loose.

“On, on, Master Terence dear!” shouted Larry, and galloping forward, I soon overtook my uncle, who had turned back on hearing the hubbub, to ascertain what had become of me. On seeing that I was safe, he again turned his horse’s head, and as he had no wish to get involved in the quarrel, he rode forward, closely followed by Larry. The howls, and shouts, and shrieks grew fainter as we advanced.

“That boy will be brought into proper discipline before long if he gets on board the frigate,” said my uncle when I told him what had occurred, “and that love of fighting any but his country’s enemies knocked out of him, I’ve a notion.”

It was growing dusk when the lights of the town where we were to stop appeared ahead. Suddenly it struck me that I didn’t hear the hoofs of Larry’s steed. Turning round to speak to him, he was nowhere visible.

“Larry, come on, will you?” I shouted, but Larry didn’t reply.

“The boy can’t have had the folly to go back with his broken head to run the chance of another knock down,” observed my uncle. “We must go and see what he has been after.”

We accordingly turned round and rode back, I galloping ahead and shouting his name. I hadn’t gone far when I saw his pony standing by the side of the road. As I got up to the animal, there was Larry doubled up on the ground. I called to him, but he made no reply. Leaping from my horse, I tried to lift him up. Not a sound escaped his lips. I was horrified at finding that to all appearances he was dead.

My uncle’s first exclamation on reaching me was, “The lad has broken his neck, I’m afraid; but, in case there may be life left in him, the sooner we carry him to a doctor the better. Help me to place him on my saddle, Terence.”

Stooping down, notwithstanding his weight, my uncle drew up his inanimate body, and placed it before him, whilst I led on his pony.

Fortunately, the inn was at the entrance of the town. My uncle, bearing Larry in his arms, entered it with me, and ordering a mattress to be brought, placed him on it, shouting out—

“Be quick, now; fetch a doctor, some of you!”

My countrymen, though willing enough to crack each others’ pates, are quite as ready to help a fellow-creature in distress; and, as my uncle spoke, two, if not three, of the bystanders hurried off to obey his order.

Meanwhile, the stable-boy having taken our horses, my uncle and I did our best to resuscitate our unfortunate follower. His countenance was pale as a sheet, except where the streaks of blood had run down it; his hair was matted, and an ugly wound was visible on his head. On taking off his handkerchief, I discovered a black mark on his neck, which alarmed me more than the wound. I fully believed that my poor foster-brother was dead.

Scarcely a minute had elapsed before two persons rushed into the room; one short and pursy, the other tall and gaunt, both panting as if they had run a race.

“I have come at your summons, sir!” exclaimed the tall man.

“And shure, so have I! and was I not first in the room?” cried the second.

“In that, Doctor Murphy, you are mistaken!” exclaimed the tall man, “for didn’t I put my head over your shoulder as we came through the door?”

“But my body was in before yours, Mr O’Shea; and I consider that you are bound to give place to a doctor of medicine!”

“But this appears to me to be a surgical case,” said the tall man; “and as the head, as all will allow, is a more honourable part of the body than the paunch, I claim to be the first on the field; and, moreover, to have seen the patient before you could possibly have done so, Doctor Murphy. Sir,” he continued, stalking past his brother practitioner, and making a bow with a battered hat to the major, “I come, I presume, on your summons, to attend to the injured boy; and such skill as I possess—and I flatter myself it’s considerable—is at your service. May I ask what is the matter with him?”

“Here’s a practitioner who doesn’t know what his patient is suffering from by a glance of the eye!” cried the doctor of medicine. “Give place, Mr O’Shea, to a man of superior knowledge to yourself,” exclaimed Doctor Murphy. “It’s easy enough to see with half a glance that the boy has broken his neck, and by this time, unless he possesses a couple of spines,—and I never knew a man have more than one, though,—he must be dead as a door nail!”

“Dead!” cried Mr O’Shea; “the doctor says his patient’s dead without feeling a pulse or lifting an eyelid.”

“You, at all events, ought to know a corpse from a live man,” cried the fat medico, growing irate, “when it’s whispered that you have made as many dead bodies in the town itself as would serve for a couple of battles and a few scrimmages to boot.”

“And you, Doctor Murphy, have poisoned one-half of your patients, and the others only survive because they throw the physic you send them to the dogs.”

“Come, gentlemen,” exclaimed the major, “while you are squabbling, any spark of life the poor boy may contain will be ebbing away. As I am not acquainted with the skill you respectively possess, I beg that you, Doctor Murphy, as holding the higher grade in your profession, will examine the boy, and express your opinion whether he is dead or alive, and state, if there’s life in him, which you consider the best way to bring him round, and set him on his feet again.”

Mr O’Shea, on hearing this, stepped back a few paces, and, folding his arms, looked with supreme contempt on the little doctor, who, stooping down over Larry with watch in hand, at which he mechanically gazed with a serious countenance, felt his pulse.

“His hand is cold and clammy, and there’s not a single thump in his arteries,” he said with solemn gravity; and letting fall Larry’s hand he proceeded to examine his neck. “The vertebra broken, cracked, dislocated,” he continued, in the same solemn tone. “D’ye see this black mark down his throat? it’s amply sufficient to account for death. I hereby certify that this is a corpse before me, and authorise that he may be sent home to his friends for Christian burial.”

“Och ahone! och ahone!” I cried out, throwing myself by the side of the mattress. “Is Larry really dead? Oh, doctors dear, can’t both of you put your heads together and try to bring him to life again?”

“When the breath is out of the body, ’tis more than all the skill of the most learned practitioners can accomplish,” exclaimed Doctor Murphy, rising from his knees. “I pronounce the boy dead, and no power on earth can bring him round again.”

“I hold to the contrary opinion,” said Mr O’Shea, advancing and drawing out of his pocket a case of instruments, from which he produced a large operation knife, and began to strop it on the palm of his hand. “It’s fortunate for the boy that he didn’t move, or Doctor Murphy would have been thrusting one of his big boluses down his throat and drenched him with black draughts. Stand aside, friends, and you shall see that a surgeon’s skill is superior to a doctor’s knowledge. I have your leave, sir, to proceed as I consider necessary?” he asked, turning to the major.

“Certainly,” answered my uncle; “if Doctor Murphy considers him dead and you believe him to be alive, and act accordingly, I have more hopes in the results of your skill than in that of the other gentleman.”

“You’ll remain in town some time, sir, I presume, and as you’re a gentleman, I shall expect a visit from you,” exclaimed the fat doctor, as, nearing the door, he made a bow, and, gold cane in hand, waddled out of the room.

Mr O’Shea cast a contemptuous glance at him, and then kneeling down, applied his knife to the nape of Larry’s neck. Warm blood immediately spouted forth. “I told you so,” he exclaimed; “blood doesn’t flow like this from a corpse. Bring hot water and cloths.” These he applied to Larry’s neck, and continued to pour the water on them, “to draw out the blood,” as he said, and relieve the patient’s head. Then pressing his knees against Larry’s shoulders, he gave a pull at his head which seemed likely to dislocate his neck, if it hadn’t been broken already.

As he did this, he exclaimed, “There now, I have taken the twists out, and the boy will be all to rights in the course of an hour.”

A groan and a heavy sigh proclaimed that there was still life in poor Larry. Presently he opened one eye and then the other, and some spoonfuls of whisky and water, which Surgeon O’Shea poured down his throat, contributed still further to revive him.

In the course of half-an-hour Larry asked in a low voice, “Did yer beat back the O’Sullivans, yer honour? shure they were coming after us at a mighty great rate, and I fancy some one of them gave me a whack on the crown which brought me to the ground.”

“Keep quiet and don’t be talking,” answered the surgeon, who, proud of his success, had been carefully watching his patient. “He’ll do now, gentlemen,” he added, looking up at my uncle and me. “We’ll put him to bed, and by to-morrow morning he’ll be as blithe as a lark, barring a stiff neck.”

Chapter Four.

My first day on board.

I sat up with Larry for the greater part of the night, after the surgeon had left him. He groaned sometimes as if in pain, and talked at one time of the scrimmage with the O’Sullivans, and at another of his fiddle, which he feared had been broken. I accordingly, to pacify him, went down and got it, and managed to produce some few notes, which had the desired effect. The major after some time came in to relieve me, for we could not trust any of the people at the inn, who would to a certainty have been dosing our patient with whisky, under the belief that they were doing him a kindness, but at the risk of producing a fever.

In the morning Mr O’Shea came in.

“I thought you said that the boy would be all to rights by this time,” I observed.

“Shure that was somewhat hyperbolical,” he answered, with a wink. “You can’t expect a man with a broken neck, and a gash as big as my thumb at the back of it, to come round in a few hours.”

We couldn’t complain, for certainly the worthy surgeon had been the means of saving Larry’s life; but the incident detained us three whole days, before he was fit to mount his pony and accompany us to Cork. Before leaving my uncle called on Doctor Murphy, who, to his great amusement, he found had no intention of calling him out, but merely expected to receive a fee for pronouncing a living man a dead one. Though my uncle might have declined to pay the amount demanded, he handed it to the doctor, and wished him good morning.

I afterwards heard that Doctor Murphy had challenged Mr O’Shea. That gentleman, however, refused to go out on the plea that should he be wounded, and become a patient of his brother practitioner, he should certainly go the way of the rest of those under his medical care. For many a long day Doctor Murphy and Mr O’Shea carried on a fierce warfare, till their patients agreed to fight it out and settle the matter, when the doctor’s party being defeated, no inconsiderable number of broken heads being the result, he left the town to exercise his skill in some other locality, where, as Mr O’Shea remarked, there was a superabundant population.

We were too late on arriving at Cork to go on board the frigate that evening, and thus Larry got the advantage of another night’s rest, and I had time to brush up my uniform, and, as I conceived, to make myself as smart as any officer in His Majesty’s service. The next morning my uncle hired a boat to proceed down the fair river of Cork to the harbour where the frigate lay. As we approached her my heart thrilled with pleasure as I thought of the honour I was about to enjoy of becoming one of her officers.

“There’s the Liffy, yer honour,” said the boatman, pointing her out as she lay some distance from the shore. Her masts had already been replaced, and her yards were across, though the sails were not as yet bent; this, however, I did not observe.

“I hope I have not detained her, uncle,” I said; “I should be sorry to have done that.”

The major seldom indulged in a laugh, but he did so on this occasion till the tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Midshipmen are not of so much account as you suppose, Terence,” he said, still laughing. “If you were to go on shore and not return on board in time, you would soon discover that the ship would not wait for you a single moment after the captain had resolved to put to sea.”

As we approached, the sentry hailed to know who we were. In my eagerness I replied, “Major McMahon and the new midshipman, Mr Terence O’Finnahan,” whereat a laugh came forth from one of the ports at which, as it appeared, some of my future messmates were standing.

“You’d have better have held your tongue,” said my uncle. “And now, Terence, remember to salute the flag as you see me do,” he added, as he was about to mount the side of the ship. He went up, I followed, and next came Larry. On reaching the deck he took off his hat, and I doffed mine with all the grace I could muster, Larry at the same time making a profound bow and a scrape of his foot. The master’s mate who received us, when my uncle inquired for Captain Macnamara, pointed to the after-part of the deck, where my future commander, with several other well-dressed officers, was standing. My uncle at once moved towards him, and I and Larry followed in the same direction. The captain, a fine-looking man, seeing him approach came forward, and they exchanged cordial greetings.

“I have come expressly to introduce my nephew Terence to you, Macnamara,” said my uncle. “You were good enough, in a letter I received from you a few days ago, to say that you would receive him as a midshipman on board your ship. He’s a broth of a boy, and will be an ornament to the service, I hope.”

“Can’t say that he is much of an ornament at present,” I heard one of the officers remark to another. “Looks more like a mummer or stage-player than a midshipman.”

Looking up, I observed a smile on their countenances, as they eyed me from head to foot.

“Wishing to present the boy in a respectable way to you on the quarter-deck of His Majesty’s ship, we had a uniform made for him at Ballinahone, which is, I fancy, such as your officers are accustomed to wear on grand occasions,” said the major, taking me by the arm as if to exhibit me to more advantage.

“I thought rather that it was the fashionable dress worn by young gentlemen in the west of Ireland at wakes or weddings,” remarked the captain; “but I confess, my dear McMahon, that I do not recognise it as a naval uniform, except in the matter of the buttons, which I see are according to the right pattern. The young gentleman will have to dress differently, except when he has a fancy to go to a masquerade on shore.”

The major stepped back with a look of astonishment; then surveying the uniform of the officers standing around, and taking another look at my costume, he exclaimed, laughing, “Faith, I see there is a difference, but as no regulations or patterns were procurable at Ballinahone, we did the best we could.”

“Of that I have no doubt about, McMahon; you always did your best, and very well done it was,” said the captain; “but I would advise you to take your nephew on shore, and get him rigged out in a more proper costume as soon as possible.”

I was completely taken aback on hearing this, and finding that instead of making a favourable impression on the captain, my costume had produced a very contrary effect. In a short time, however, somewhat regaining my confidence and remembering Larry, I turned to my uncle and begged that, according to his promise, he would introduce him.

“To be shure I will,” he answered, and then addressing the captain, he said, “My nephew has a foster-brother, the boy standing there, who has made up his mind to go to sea. Will you receive him on board your ship? I own, however, that he will require a good deal of licking into shape before he becomes a sailor.”

“He appears to be a stout lad, and I have no doubt but that in course of time we shall succeed in making him one,” answered the captain. “Do you wish to go to sea, boy?”

Larry, who didn’t quite understand, I suspect, what licking into shape meant, answered notwithstanding, “Shure, yer honour, wherever Maisther Terence goes, I’m desirous of following, and as he’s to become a midshipman, I’d wish to go wherever I can be with him.”

“That cannot be so exactly,” answered the captain, laughing; “but if you become one of the crew, you’ll not be far from him, and I hope I may see you some day following your leader on board an enemy’s ship, and hauling down her flag.”

“Hurrah! shure that’s what I’ll be after doing, and anything else your honour plaises,” exclaimed Larry at the top of his voice, flourishing his hat at the same time above his head. “I’ll be after showing yer honour how the boys in Tipperary fight.”

That matter being settled much to my satisfaction, Larry was taken off to have his name entered on the ship’s books, for in those days a fish having been once caught in the net, it was not thought advisable to let him go again. In the meantime, my uncle having gone into the captain’s cabin to take luncheon, I was led by a person whom, though I thought he was an officer, I supposed, from his appearance, to be one of very subordinate rank, to be introduced to my new messmates, in the midshipmen’s berth.

“And so you think we wear silks and satins on board ship, I see, young gentleman, do you?” he said with a comical grin, eyeing my new coat and waistcoat. “You’ll have to send these back to your grandmother, or the old woman who made them for you.”

“Arrah, sir, d’ye intend to insult me?” I asked. “Were they not put together by Pat Cassidy, the family tailor, under the direction of my uncle, Major McMahon, and he shure knows what a young gentleman should wear on board ship.”

“No, my lad, I only intended to laugh at you; but do you know who I am?”

“No, but I’ll have you to understand that an O’Finnahan of Castle Ballinahone, County Tipperary, Ireland, is not to be insulted with impunity,” I answered, trying to look as dignified as I could.

“Then I’ll give you to understand, young sir, that I’m the first lieutenant of this ship, and that lieutenants don’t insult midshipmen, even if they think fit to send them to the masthead. It will be your business to obey, and to ask no questions.”

As I knew no more, at the time, of the rank and position of a first lieutenant on board ship than I did of the man in the moon, this announcement did not make much impression on my mind. I only thought that he was some old fellow who was fond of boasting, and had a fancy to try and make me believe that he was a personage of importance, or perhaps to frighten me. I soon discovered, however, that though he generally wore a shabby uniform, he was not a man to be trifled with. I may as well here say that his name was Saunders, that he was a thorough tar, who had come in at the hawse-hole, and had worked his way up to his present position. Old “Rough and Ready” I found he was called. His hands were continually in the tar-bucket, and he was never so happy as when, with a marline-spike hung round his neck by a rope-yarn, he was engaged in gammoning the bowsprit, or setting up the rigging. But that I found out afterwards.

“Now come along, youngster, for I don’t wish to be hard on you; I’m only laughing at the ridiculous figure you cut,” he said, giving way to a burst of rough merriment. By the time it was over we reached the door of the berth, where the midshipmen were assembled for dinner.

“Young gentlemen,” said Mr Saunders with perfect gravity, opening the door, “I have to tell you that this is Mr Terence O’Finnahan, of Castle Ballinahone, County Tipperary, Ireland, who is to become your messmate as soon as he is docked of his fine feathers; and you’ll be pleased to receive him as such.”

Saying this he took his departure, and two of my new messmates seized me by the fists, which they gripped with a force intended perhaps to show the ardour of their regard, but which was excessively painful to my feelings. I restrained them, however, and stood looking round at the numerous strange faces turned towards me.

“Make room for Mr Terence O’Finnahan, of Castle Ballinahone, County Tipperary, Ireland,” cried an old master’s mate from the further end of the table; “but let all understand that it’s the last time such a designation is to be applied to him. It’s much too long a name for any practical purpose, and from henceforth he’s to be known on board this ship as Paddy Finn, the Irish midshipman; and so, Paddy Finn, old boy, I’ll drink your health. Gentlemen, fill your glasses; here’s to the health of Paddy Finn.”

Every one in the berth filled up their mugs and cups with rum and water, in which they pledged me with mock gravity. Having in the meantime taken my seat, I rose and begged to return my thanks to them for the honour they had done me, assuring them that I should be happy to be known by the new name they had given me, or by any other which might sound as sweet.

“Only, gentlemen, there’s one point I must bargain for,” I added; “let me be called Paddy, whatever other designation you may in your judgment think fit to bestow on me, for let me tell you that I consider it an honour to be an Irishman, and I am as proud of my native land as you can be of yours.”

“Bravo, Paddy!” cried several. “You’re a trump,” observed the president.

“The chief has got pluck in him,” said the Scotch assistant surgeon, who sat opposite to the president, a man whose grizzled hair showed that he had been long in the service.

“Where did you get those clothes from?” asked a young gentleman, whom I afterwards found to be the purser’s clerk.

“He picked them up at a theatrical property shop as he passed through Cork,” remarked another.

“Haul in the slack of your impudence,” cried the president, whose favour I had won. “If his friends had never seen a naval uniform, how should they know how to rig him out?”

“I’m mightily obliged to you, sir,” I said, for I was by this time getting heartily ashamed of my gay feathers; “and as the ship won’t be sailing yet, I hope to get fitted out properly before I return on board.”

“All right, youngster,” said the president. “Now, I will have the pleasure of helping you to a slice of mutton. Hand the greens and potatoes up to Paddy Finn.”

The plate was passed round to me, and I was allowed, without being further bantered, to discuss the viands placed under my nose, which I did with a good appetite. I was not silent, however, but introducing my journey to Cork, amused my messmates with an account of the various incidents which had occurred. When, at length, one of the midshipmen who had being doing duty on deck appeared at the door to say that Major McMahon was about to return on shore, and wanted his nephew, my new friends shook me warmly by the hand, and the president again proposed three hearty cheers for their new messmate, Paddy Finn.

Chapter Five.

I make the acquaintance of one of my new messmates.

I was in much better spirits when I rejoined my uncle than when I had been led below by Mr Saunders. I found him standing with the captain on the main-deck, they having just come out of the cabin.

“I should like to take a turn round the ship before we leave her, in case I should be unable to pay you another visit,” said the major. “I wish to brush up my recollections of what a frigate is like.”

“Come along then,” answered the captain, and he led the way along the deck.

As we got forward, we heard loud roars of laughter and clapping of hands. The cause was very evident, for there was Larry in the midst of a group of seamen, dancing an Irish jig to the tune of one of his most rollicksome songs.

“Stop a bit, my boys, and I’ll show you what real music is like,” he exclaimed after he had finished the song. “Wait till I get my fiddle among yer, and I’ll make it squeak louder thin a score of peacocks or a dozen of sucking pigs;” and he then began again singing—

“A broth of a boy was young Daniel O’Shane,
As he danced with the maidens of fair Derrynane.”

Then he went on jigging away, to the great delight of his audience,—no one observing the captain or us.

It was very evident that Larry had without loss of time made himself at home among his new shipmates. They treated him much as they would have treated a young bear, or any other pet animal they might have obtained. I had expected to find him looking somewhat forlorn and downcast among so many strangers; but in reality, I ought to have trusted an Irish boy of his degree to make friends wherever he goes.

“I think we may leave your follower where he is, as, should you not require his services, he is much more likely to be kept out of mischief here than he would be ashore,” said the captain to the major.

To this my uncle agreed. We had got some way along the deck when I felt a touch on my shoulder, and turning round, saw Larry’s countenance grinning from ear to ear.

“Shure they’re broths of boys these sailor fellows, and I’m mighty plaised to be among them; but, Maisther Terence dear, I have a favour to ask you. Would you tell the captain that I’d be mightily obliged to him if he would let me go back to Cork for my fiddle. I left it at the inn, and if I had it now I’d set all the boys on board a-jigging, with the captain and officers into the bargain.”

I told him that as the captain thought it better he should remain on board, I could not ask leave for him to go on shore; but I promised that if I had an opportunity, I would send him his violin at once, or if not, would be careful to bring it myself.

“You’ll not be long then, Maisther Terence; for the boys here are mighty eager to hear me play.”

Assuring him how glad I was to find that he was happy, I advised him to go back to his new friends again, promising not to forget his violin.

We had come on board on the larboard side; we now went to the starboard. On each side of the gangway stood several officers and midshipmen, while on the accommodation-ladder were arranged two lines of boys. The captain’s own gig was waiting for us, manned by eight smart seamen, their oars in the air. The captain himself descended, returning the salutes of the officers and men. I followed my uncle, who was treated with a similar mark of respect; but as I thought a portion was intended for me, and wishing to act in the politest way possible, I took off my hat altogether, and made several most polite bows. I had a suspicion, however, from the expression on the countenances of the midshipmen, with the suppressed titter among them, together with the grin on the faces of the men and boys, that I was doing something not altogether according to custom. Perhaps, I thought to myself, I hadn’t bowed low enough, so I turned, now to my right, now to my left, and, not seeing where I was going to, should have pitched right down the ladder had not one of the men standing there caught my arm, bidding me as he did so to keep my hat on my head.

In my eagerness to get into the boat I made a spring, and should have leapt right over into the water had not another friendly hand caught me and forced me down by the side of the major.

The captain, taking the white yoke-lines, gave the order to shove off; the boat’s head swung away from the side of the frigate; the oars fell with their blades flat on the water; and we began to glide rapidly up the harbour, propelled by the sturdy arms of the crew. I felt very proud as I looked at the captain in his cocked hat and laced coat, and at the midshipman who accompanied him, in a bran new uniform, though, to be sure, there wasn’t much of him to look at, for he was a mere mite of a fellow.

Had I not discovered that my own costume was not according to rule, I should have considered it a much more elegant one than his. After some time, the captain observing, I fancy, that I looked rather dull, having no one to talk to, said something to the midshipman, who immediately came and sat by me.

“Well, Paddy, how do you like coming to sea?” he asked in a good-natured tone.

“I’ve not yet formed an opinion,” I answered.

“True, my boy; Cork harbour is not the Atlantic,” he remarked. “We may chance to see the waves running mountains high when we get there, and all the things tumbling about like shuttlecocks.”

“I’ll be content to wait until I see that same to form an opinion,” I answered. “As I’ve come to sea, I shall be glad to witness whatever takes place there.”

“You’re not to be caught, I perceive,” he said. “Well, Paddy, and how do you like your name?”

“Faith, I’m grateful to you and my other messmates for giving it,” I answered. “I’m not ashamed of the name, and I hope to have the opportunity of making it known far and wide some day or other; and now may I ask you what’s your name, for I haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it.”

“Thomas Pim,” he answered.

“Come, that’s short enough, anyhow,” I observed.

“Yes; but when I first came aboard, the mess declared it was too long, so they cut off the ‘h’ and the ‘as’ and ‘m’ and called me Tom Pi; but even then they were not content, for they further docked it of its fair proportions, and decided that I was to be named Topi, though generally I’m called simply Pi.”

“Do you mind it?” I asked.

“Not a bit,” he answered. “It suits my size, I confess; for, to tell you the truth, I’m older than I look, and have been three years at sea.”

“I thought you had only just joined,” I remarked, for my companion was, as I have just said, a very little fellow, scarcely reaching up to my shoulder. On examining his countenance more minutely, I observed that it had a somewhat old look.

“Though I’m little I’m good, and not ashamed of my size or my name either,” he said. “When bigger men are knocked over, I’ve a chance of escaping. I can stow myself away where others can’t get in their legs; and when I go aloft or take a run on shore, I’ve less weight to carry,—so has the steed I ride. When I go with others to hire horses, I generally manage to get the best from the stable-keeper.”

“Yes, I see that you have many advantages over bigger fellows,” I said.

“I’m perfectly contented with myself now I’ve found that out, but I confess that at first I didn’t like being laughed at and having remarks made about my name and my size. I have grown slightly since then, and no one observes now that I’m an especially little fellow.”

Tom spoke for some time on the same subject.

“I say, Paddy Finn, I hope you and I will be friends,” he continued. “I’ve heard that you Irishmen are frequently quarrelsome, but I hope you won’t quarrel with me, or, for your own sake, with any of the rest of the mess. You’ll gain nothing by it, as they would all turn against you to put you down.”

“No fear of that,” I replied, “always provided that they say nothing insulting of Ireland, or of my family or friends, or of the opinions I may hold, or take liberties which I don’t like, or do anything which I consider unbecoming gentlemen.”

“You leave a pretty wide door open,” remarked Tom; “but, as I said before, if you don’t keep the peace it will be the worse for you.”

We were all this time proceeding at a rapid rate up the stream, between its wooded and picturesque banks. On arriving at Cork, the captain wished the major good-bye, saying that I must be on board again within three days, which would allow me ample time to get a proper uniform made.

I asked Tom Pim what he was going to do with himself, and proposed that, after I had been measured by the tailor, we should take a stroll together.

“Do you think the captain brought me up here for my pleasure?” he said. “I have to stay by the boat while he’s on shore, to see that the men don’t run away. Why, if I didn’t keep my eye on them, they’d be off like shots, and drunk as fiddlers by the time the captain came back.”

“I’m sorry you can’t come,” I said. “By the bye, talking of fiddlers, will you mind taking a fiddle on board to the boy who came with me,—Larry Harrigan? I promised to send it to him, though I didn’t expect so soon to have the opportunity.”

“With the greatest pleasure in the world,” said Tom Pim. “Perhaps I may take a scrape on it myself. When I was a little fellow, I learned to play it.”

“You must have been a very little fellow,” I couldn’t help remarking, though Tom didn’t mind it.

As our inn was not far off, I asked my uncle to let me run on and get the fiddle, and take it down to the boat. As I carried it along, I heard people making various remarks, evidently showing that they took me for a musician or stage-player, which made me more than ever anxious to get out of a costume which I had once been so proud of wearing. Having delivered the violin in its case to Tom Pim, who promised to convey it to Larry, I rejoined my uncle.

We proceeded at once to the tailor recommended by Captain Macnamara, who, having a pattern, promised to finish my uniform in time, and to supply all the other articles I required. We spent the few days we were in Cork in visiting some old friends of the major’s.

I was very anxious about the non-appearance of my chest, but the night before I was to go on board, to my great satisfaction, it arrived.

“It’s a good big one, at all events,” I thought; “it will hold all the things I want, and some curiosities I hope to bring back from foreign parts.”

It was capable of doing so, for although it might have been somewhat smaller than the one in which the bride who never got out again hid away, it was of magnificent proportions, solid as oak and iron clamps could make it; it was big enough to hold half-a-dozen of my smaller brothers and sisters, who used to stow themselves away in it when playing hide-and-seek about the house.

Soon after the chest arrived the tailor brought my uniform.

It certainly was a contrast to the comical suit I had hitherto been wearing. I put it on with infinite satisfaction, and girded to my side a new dirk, which my uncle had given me, instead of my grandfather’s old sword. The latter, however, my uncle recommended me to take on board.

“You may want it, Terence, maybe on some cutting-out expedition,” he said; “and you’ll remember that it belonged to your ancestors, and make it do its duty.”

As the chest was already full, I had a difficulty in stowing away the things the tailor had brought. I therefore began to unpack it while he was waiting, and I observed that he cast a look of supreme contempt on most of the articles it contained. He even ventured to suggest that he should be allowed to replace them with others which he could supply.

“The boy has enough and to spare, and I should like to know how many of them will find their way back to Cork,” said my uncle.

Some of them I found, on consideration, that I should be as well without. Among other things were a pair of thick brogues, which Molly the cook had put in to keep my feet from the wet deck, and a huge cake; this, though, I guessed would not be sneered at in the mess, and would travel just as well outside. At length I found room for everything I required, and the chest was once more locked and corded.

I don’t believe I slept a wink that night with thinking of what I should do when I got on board the frigate. It was a satisfaction to remember that the ice had been broken, and that I should not appear as a perfect stranger amongst my messmates. I already knew Tom Pim, and he had told me the names of several others, among whom were those of Jack Nettleship the old mate and caterer of the mess, Dick Sinnet the senior midshipman, Sims the purser’s clerk, and Donald McPherson the assistant-surgeon. The others I could not remember. The lieutenants, he said, were very nice fellows, though they had their peculiarities. None of the officers were Irishmen, consequently I had been dubbed Paddy.

Chapter Six.

I commence my naval career.

The morning came. My chest and my other strat things had been carried down in a cart to the river, where they were shipped on board a shore-boat. As we walked along following it, my uncle, after being silent for a minute, as if considering how he should address me, said: “You have got a new life before you, away from friends, among all sorts of characters,—some good, it may be, many bad or indifferent, but no one probably on whom you may rely. You will be placed in difficult, often in dangerous situations, when you’ll have only yourself, or Him who orders all things, to trust to. Be self-reliant; ever strive to do your duty; and don’t be after troubling yourself about the consequences. You will be engaged in scenes of warfare and bloodshed. I have taken part in many such, and I know their horrors. War is a stern necessity. May you never love it for itself; but when fighting, comport yourself like a man fearless of danger, while you avoid running your head needlessly into it. Be courteous and polite, slow to take offence,—especially when no offence is intended, as is the case in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred where quarrels occur. Remember that it always takes two to make a quarrel, and that the man who never gives offence will seldom get into one. Never grumble; be cheerful and obliging. Never insist on your own rights when those rights are not worth insisting on. Sacrifice your own feelings to those of others, and be ever ready to help a companion out of a difficulty. You may be surprised to hear me—an old soldier and an Irishman—talking in this way; but I give you the advice, because I have seen so many act differently, and, wrapped up in intense selfishness, become utterly regardless of others,—reaping the consequences by being disliked and neglected, and finally deserted by all who were their friends. There’s another point I must speak to you about, and it’s a matter which weighs greatly on my mind. Example, they say, is better than precept. Now your father has set you a mighty bad example, and so have many others who have come to the castle. Don’t follow it. You see the effect which his potations of rum shrub and whisky-toddy have produced on him. When I was on duty, or going on it, I never touched liquor; and no man ever lost his life from my carelessness, as I have seen the lives of many poor soldiers thrown away when their officers, being drunk, have led them into useless danger. So I say, Terence, keep clear of liquor. The habit of drinking grows on a man, and in my time I have seen it the ruin of many as fine young fellows as ever smelt powder.”

I thanked my uncle, and promised as far as I could to follow his excellent advice.

As we reached the water-side, my uncle stopped, and putting one hand on my shoulder and taking mine with the other, looked me kindly in the face.

“Fare thee well, Terence, my boy,” he said; “we may not again meet on earth, but wherever you go, an old man’s warmest affection follows you. Be afraid of nothing but doing wrong. If your life is spared, you’ll rise in the profession you have chosen, second only in my opinion to that of the army.”

I stepped into the boat, and the men shoved off. My uncle stood watching me as we descended the stream. Again and again he waved his hand, and I returned his salute. He was still standing there when a bend of the river shut him out from my sight. I was too much engaged with my thoughts to listen to what the boatmen said, and I suspect they thought me either too dull or too proud to talk to them. As we pulled up on the larboard side, thinking that I was now somebody, I shouted to some men I saw looking through the ports to come down and lift my chest on board, though how that was to be done was more than I could tell. A chorus of laughs was the reply.

Presently I heard a gruff voice say, “Send a whip down there, and have that big lumber chest, or whatever it is, up on deck.” My chest was quickly hauled up, and as quickly transferred by the orders of the lieutenant in charge of the watch below, before Mr Saunders’ eyes had fallen on it. I mounted the side in as dignified a way as I could, saluting the flag on reaching the deck, as my uncle had told me to do.

I had recognised Tom Pim, who was ready to receive me. “You must go to the first lieutenant,—he’s in the gun-room,—and say, ‘Come aboard, sir,’ and then when you’re dismissed make your way into the berth,” he said.

“But how am I to be after finding the gun-room; is it where the guns are kept?” I asked.

Tom laughed at my simplicity. “No; it’s where the gun-room officers, the lieutenants and master, the doctor, and purser, and lieutenant of marines, mess. They all mess together, as do the mates, and we the midshipmen, the second master and master’s assistant, the clerks and the assistant-surgeon.”

“And have you no ensign?” I asked.

“No; there are none in the marines, and so we have no soldiers in our berth,” he answered; “but let’s come along, I’ll show you the way, and then you’ll be in time for dinner.” We descended to the gun-room door, where Tom left me, bidding me go in and ask for the first lieutenant. I didn’t see him, but one of the other officers, of whom I made inquiries, pointed me to the first lieutenant’s cabin.

I knocked at the door. “Come in,” answered a gruff voice. I found the lieutenant with his shirt-sleeves tucked up, he having just completed his morning ablutions, an old stocking on one fist and a needle and thread in the other, engaged in darning it.

“Come on board, sir,” I said.

“Very well, youngster,” he answered; “I should scarcely have known you in your present proper uniform. There’s nothing like being particular as to dress. I’ll see about placing you in a watch. You’ll understand that you’re to try and do your duty to the best of your abilities.”

“Shure it’s what I hope to do, sir,” I answered briskly; “and I’m mighty glad you like my uniform.”

“I didn’t say I liked it, youngster,—I said it was proper according to the regulations. Turn round, let me see. There is room for growing, which a midshipman’s uniform should have. You’ll remember always to be neat and clean, and follow the example I try to set you youngsters.”

“Yes, sir,” I answered, my eyes falling on a huge patch which the lieutenant had on one of the knees of his trousers.

“Now you may go!” he said. “Understand that you’re not to quit the ship without my leave, and that you must master the rules and regulations of the service as soon as possible, for I can receive no excuse if you infringe them.”

Altogether I was pretty well satisfied with my interview with old Rough-and-Ready, and hurrying out of the gun-room I directed my course for the young gentlemen’s berth, as it was called, which was some way further forward on the starboard side. I intended, after making my appearance there, to go in search of Larry, but the mulatto steward and a boy came hurrying aft along the deck with steaming dishes, which they placed on the table, and I found that the dinner was about to commence.

“Glad to see you, Paddy,” said Jack Nettleship, who had already taken his place at the head of the table. “You look less like a play-actor’s apprentice and more like an embryo naval officer than you did when you first came on board. Now sit down and enjoy the good things of life while you can get them. Time will come when we shall have to luxuriate on salt junk as hard as a millstone and weevilly biscuits.”

Plenty of joking took place, and everybody seemed in good humour, so that I soon found myself fairly at my ease, and all I wanted to be perfectly so was to know the ways of the ship. I succeeded in producing several roars of laughter by the stories I told, not attempting to overcome my brogue, but rather the contrary, as I found it amused my auditors. When the rum was passed round, of which each person had a certain quantum, the doctor sang out to the youngsters, including Tom Pim and me, “Hold fast! it’s a vara bad thing for you laddies, and I shall be having you all on the sick list before long if I allow you to take it. Pass the pernicious liquor along here.”

Tom obeyed, and so did I, willingly enough, for I had tasted the stuff and thought it abominably nasty, but two or three of the other midshipmen hesitated, and some seemed inclined to revolt.

“I call on you, Nettleship, as president of the mess, to interfere,” exclaimed the doctor. “What do these youngsters suppose I’m sent here for, but to watch over their morals and their health; and as I find it difficult in the one case to do my duty with the exactitude I desire, I shall take care not to neglect it in the other. There’s young Chaffey there, who has stowed away enough duff to kill a bull, and now he’s going to increase the evil by pouring this burning fiery liquid down his throat. Do you want to be in your grave, Jack? if not, be wise, and let the grog alone.”

Chaffey, the fattest midshipman among us, looked somewhat alarmed, and quickly passed up the rum. I observed that the doctor kept it by his side, and having finished his own quantum, began to sip the portions he had forbidden the youngsters to drink. It was difficult to suppose that he was perfectly disinterested in his advice.

Being in harbour, we sat much longer than usual. At last I asked Tom if he thought I could venture to go and look out for Larry.

“Oh, yes; this is Liberty Hall,” he answered.

I was going forward, when I heard my name called, and going to the spot from whence the voice came, I saw the first lieutenant standing before my chest, at which he cast a look of mingled indignation and contempt. By his side was a warrant officer, whom I heard addressed as Mr Bradawl, with a saw and chisel and hammer in hand.

“Does this huge chest belong to you?” asked old Rough-and-Ready, as I came up.

“Yes, sir,” I answered; “I’m rather proud of it.”

“We shall see if you continue so,” he exclaimed. “Do you think we have room to stow away such a lumbering thing as this? Where’s the key?”

I produced it.

“Now tumble your things out.”

“But please, sir, I haven’t room to pack them away. I have got this bundle, and that case, and those other things are all mine.”

“Tumble them out!” cried the lieutenant, without attending to my expostulations.

I obeyed. And the carpenter began sawing away at a line which old Rough-and-Ready had chalked out not far from the keyhole. Mr Bradawl had a pretty tough job of it, for the oak was hard. The lieutenant stood by, watching the proceeding with evident satisfaction. He was showing me that a first lieutenant was all-powerful on board ship. I watched this cruel curtailment of my chest with feelings of dismay.

Having sawn it thus nearly in two, the carpenter knocked off the end of the part he had severed from the rest, and then hammered it on with several huge nails.

“Now, youngster, pick out the most requisite articles, and send the others ashore, or overboard, or anywhere, so that they’re out of the ship,” exclaimed the first lieutenant; saying which he turned away to attend to some other duty, leaving me wondering how I should stow the things away. Tom Pim, who had seen what was going forward, came up to my assistance; and by putting the things in carefully, and stamping them down, layer after layer, we managed to stow away more than I had conceived possible.

“I think I could find room for some of them in my chest, as we have been to sea for some time, and a good many of my own have been expended; and, I daresay, the other fellows will be equally ready to oblige you,” said Tom.

I was delighted at the proposal, and hastened to accept it,—but I didn’t find it quite so easy to get them back again! Tom, however, soon smelt out the cake. At first he suggested that it would be safe in his chest, but Chaffey coming by, also discovered it; and though he was most anxious to take charge of it for me, Tom, knowing very well what would be its fate, insisted on its being carried into the berth. I need hardly say that by the end of tea-time it had disappeared.

I had no difficulty in finding Larry, when I at length set forth in quest of him. The sound of his fiddle drew me to the spot, where, surrounded by a party of admiring shipmates, he was scraping away as happy as a prince. On catching sight of me, he sprang out of the circle.

“Och, Misther Terence, I’m mighty glad to see you; but shure I didn’t know you at first in your new clothes. I hope you like coming to sea as much as myself. Shure it’s rare fun we’re having in this big ship; and is his honour the major gone home again?”

I told him that I concluded such was the case, and how pleased I was to find that he liked his life on board,—though it didn’t occur to me at the time that not having as yet been put to perform any special duty, he fancied he was always to lead the idle life he had hitherto been enjoying. We were both of us doomed ere long to discover that things don’t always run smoothly at sea.

Chapter Seven.

Mastheaded.

The frigate was not yet ready for sea, and I had therefore time to pick up some scraps of nautical knowledge, to learn the ways of the ship, and to get a tolerable notion of my duties. I quickly mastered the rules and regulations of the service, a copy of which Jack Nettleship gave me.

“Stick by them, my lad, and you can’t go wrong; if you do, it’s their fault, not yours,” he observed.

“But suppose I don’t understand them?” I asked.

“Then you can plead in justification that they are not sufficiently clear for an ordinary comprehension,” he answered. “I do when I make a mistake, and old Rough-and-Ready is always willing to receive my excuses, as he can’t spell them out very easily himself, though they are his constant study day and night. Indeed, I doubt if he reads anything else, except Norie’s Navigation and the Nautical Almanack?”

Nettleship showed me a copy of the former work, and kindly undertook to instruct me in the science of navigation. All day long, however, he was employed in the duties of the ship, and in the evening I was generally sleepy when it was our watch below, so that I didn’t make much progress. Though I got on very well, I was guilty, I must own, of not a few blunders. I was continually going aft when I intended to be going forward, and vice versa.

The day after I came aboard I was skylarking with Tom Pim, Chaffey, and other midshipmites (as the oldsters called us), when I told them that I would hide, and that they might find me if they could. I ran up the after-ladder, when seeing a door open, I was going to bolt through it. Just then a marine, who was standing there, placed his musket to bar my way. Not wishing to be stopped, I dodged under it, turning round and saying—

“Arrah, boy! don’t be after telling where I’m gone to.”

The sentry, for such he was, not understanding me, seized hold of my collar.

“You mustn’t be going in there, whoever you are,” he said in a gruff tone.

“I’m a midshipman of this ship, and have a right to go wherever I like, I’m after thinking,” I said, trying to shake myself clear of his grasp. “Hush, now; be pleasant, will ye, and do as I order you!”

“I shouldn’t be finding it very pleasant if I was to break through the rules and regulations of the service,” he answered. “Now go forward, young gentleman, and don’t be attempting to playing any of your tricks on me.”

“I’m your officer, and I order you not to interfere with me, or say where I’m gone,” I exclaimed.

“I obey no orders except from my own lieutenant or the captain and the lieutenants of the ship,” answered the sturdy marine. “You can’t go into the captain’s cabin while I’m standing here as sentry;” and he proceeded to use more force than was agreeable to my dignity.

“Shure you’re an impudent fellow to behave so to an officer,” I exclaimed; at which the sentry laughed, and said—

“Off with you, Master Jackanapes, and consider yourself fortunate that worse hasn’t come of your larking.”

Trying to look dignified I answered—

“You’re an impudent fellow, and I shall make known your conduct to your superiors. I know your name, my fine fellow, so you’ll not get off.” I had observed his name, as I thought, on his musket.

Just then Tom Pim popped his head above the hatchway,

and I, finding that I was discovered, made chase after him. He quickly distanced me; and as I was rushing blindly along, I ran my head right into the stomach of old Rough-and-Ready, who, as ill-luck would have it, was on his way round the lower deck. I nearly upset him, and completely upset myself.

“Shure, sir, I never intended to behave so rudely,” I said, as, picking myself up, I discovered whom I had encountered.

“Go to the masthead, and stay there till I call you down,” thundered the lieutenant, rubbing the part of his body I had assaulted.

“Please, sir, I had no intention in the world of running against you,” I said, trying to look humble, but feeling much inclined to laugh at the comical expression of his countenance.

“Look to the rules and regulations of the service, where all inferiors are ordered to pay implicit obedience to their superiors,” cried Mr Saunders. “To the masthead with you.”

“If you please, sir, I should be happy to do that same if I knew the way; but I haven’t been up there yet, as the men have been painting the rigging with some black stuff, and I should be after spoiling my new uniform,” I answered.

“Go to the masthead,” again shouted the first lieutenant; “and you, Pim, go and show him the way,” he exclaimed, catching sight of Tom Pim, who was grinning at me from the other side of the deck.

Tom well knew that it was against the rules and regulations of the service to expostulate; therefore, saying, “Come along, Paddy,” he led the way on deck.

“Do as I do,” he said, as he began to mount the rigging. “Just hold on with your hands and feet, and don’t let the rest of your body touch the rattlings or shrouds, and don’t be letting go with one hand till you have got fast hold with the other.”

Up he went, and I followed. He was nimble as a monkey, so I had difficulty in keeping pace with him. Looking up, I saw him with his back almost horizontal above me, going along the futtock shrouds to get into the top. These are the shrouds which run from the side of the mast to the outer side of the top, and consequently a person going along them has his face to the sky and his back to the deck. Tom was over them in a moment, and out of sight. I didn’t like the look of things, but did my best; and though he stood ready to give me a helping hand into the top, I got round without assistance. We now had to ascend the topmost rigging to the cross-trees, where we were to stay till called down. This was a comparatively easy matter, and as I didn’t once cast my eyes below I felt no giddiness. Tom seated himself as if perfectly at home, and bade me cross my legs on the other side of the mast.

“It’s lucky for you, Paddy, that you are able to gain your experience while the ship is in harbour and as steady as a church steeple. It would be a different matter if she were rolling away across the Bay of Biscay with a strong breeze right aft; so you ought to be duly thankful to old Saunders for mastheading you without waiting till we get there. And now I’d advise you to have a look at the rules and regulations of the service. It will please old Rough-and-Ready if you can tell him you have employed your time up here studying them, but don’t forget you are up here, and go tumbling down on deck.”

I was very well disposed to follow Tom’s advice, and I held tight on with one hand while I pulled the paper out of my pocket and read a page or two relating to obedience to superiors. Having thus relieved my conscience, I took a look round at the beautiful panorama in the midst of which the ship floated: the wooded banks, the magnificent harbour dotted over with numerous vessels; ships of war and merchantmen,—the latter waiting for convoy,—while among the former was the admiral’s flag-ship riding proudly, surrounded by the smaller fry. The pretty town of Cove, with neat houses and villas on the one side, and the mouth of the river Lee, running down from Cork, to the westward.

Sooner than we expected we heard old Rough-and-Ready’s voice summoning us down. He was not an ill-natured man. He knew well that my fault had been unintentional, and that Tom had certainly not deserved any punishment at all, for grinning at a brother midshipman in his presence could scarcely be considered disrespectful.

“You may go through the lubber’s hole,” said Tom, when we reached the top.

“No, no. If you go round, I’ll go to,” I answered. For being thus put on my mettle, I determined to do whatever he did. By holding fast with my feet and following him, I managed to put them on the rattlings underneath, and thus, though I didn’t like it at all, got down on to the main rigging.

“Next time you run along the deck, youngster, you’ll look where you’re going,” said the first lieutenant, when I reached the deck.

“Ay, ay, sir,” I said, touching my hat.

“Did you read the rules and regulations?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I answered; “though I hadn’t time to get through them all.”

He was pleased with the respect I paid him.

“Well, you’ll know them by heart soon; and to ensure that, remember to take them with you whenever you’re mastheaded.”

“Of course, sir, if you wish it,” I answered.

He gave a comical look at me under his bushy eyebrows, and turned on his heel.

After this I accompanied Tom into the berth. Old Nettleship was there. I told him of the way the marine had behaved, and said that for the sake of keeping up the dignity of the midshipmen, I considered it necessary to make his conduct known, though I had no ill-feeling towards the man himself.

At this remark the old mate burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

“Midshipmen generally find it necessary to carry their dignity in their pockets; and I’d advise you, Paddy, to put yours there, though I approve of your spirit. The man will have been relieved some time ago, and you’ll find it difficult to recognise him among others.”

“Oh! I know his name—it was Tower,” I said in a tone of confidence.

At this there was a general roar of laughter.

“According to your notion all the jollies are Towers,” cried Nettleship, when he regained his voice. “Why, Paddy, the muskets are all marked with the name of the Tower of London, where the arms are stored before they are served out.”

“Shure how should I know anything about the Tower of London?” I asked. “I’m after thinking it’s a poor place compared with Castle Ballinahone.”

This remark produced another roar of laughter from my messmates.

“What are you after laughing at? I exclaimed. If any of you will honour us with a visit at Castle Ballinahone, you’ll be able to compare the two places, and my father and mother, and brothers and sisters, will be mighty plaised to see you.”

The invitation was at once accepted by all hands, though for the present my family were pretty safe from the chances of an inundation of nautical heroes.

“And what sort of girls are your sisters?” asked Sims, who, I had discovered, was always ready for some impudence.

“Shure they’re Irish young ladies, and that’s all I intend to say about them,” I answered, giving him a look which made him hold his tongue.

Still, in spite of the bantering I received, I got on wonderfully well with my new messmates; and though I had a fight now and then, I generally, being older than many of them, and stronger than others who had been some time at sea, came off victorious; and as I was always ready to befriend, and never bullied, my weaker messmates, I was on very good terms with all of them.

Tom Pim took a liking to me from the first, and though he didn’t require my protection, I felt ready to afford it him on all occasions. He was sometimes quizzed by Sims and others for his small size. “I don’t mind it,” he answered. “Though I’m little, I’m good. If I’ve a chance, I’ll do something to show what’s in me.” The chance came sooner than he expected. There were a good many raw hands lately entered, Larry among others. From the first he showed no fear of going aloft, looking upon the business much as he would have done climbing a high tree; but how the ropes were rove, and what were their uses, he naturally had no conception. “Is it to the end of them long boughs there I’ve got to go, Misther Terence?” he asked the first time he was ordered aloft, looking up at the yards as he encountered me, I having been sent forward with an order to the third lieutenant.

“There’s no doubt about it, Larry,” I said; “but take care you catch hold of one rope before you let go of the other,” said I, giving him the same advice which I had myself received.

“Shure I’ll be after doing that same, Misther Terence,” he answered, as, following the example of the other men, he sprang into the rigging. I watched him going up as long as I could, and he seemed to be getting on capitally, exactly imitating the movements of the other men.

A day or two afterwards we were all on deck, the men exercising in reefing and furling sails. The new hands were ordered to lay out on the yards, and a few of the older ones to show them what to do. Larry obeyed with alacrity; no one would have supposed that he had been only a few times before aloft. I had to return to the quarter-deck, where I was standing with Tom Pim, and we were remarking the activity displayed by the men. I saw Larry on the starboard fore-topsail yard-arm, and had just left Tom, being sent with a message to the gun-room, when, as my head was flush with the hatchway, I saw an object drop from the yard-arm into the water. It looked more like a large ball falling than a human being, and it didn’t occur to me that it was the latter until I heard the cry of “Man overboard!” Hastening up again, I sprang into the mizzen rigging, from which, just before I got there, Tom Pim had plunged off into the water. It was ebb tide, and a strong current was running out of the river Lee past the ship. The man who had fallen had not sunk, but was fast drifting astern, and seemed unconscious, for he was not struggling, lying like a log on the water. Tom Pim, with rapid strokes, was swimming after him. I heard the order given to lower a boat. Though not a great swimmer, I was about to follow Tom to try and help him, when a strong arm held me back.

“Are you a good swimmer, youngster?” asked the first lieutenant, the person who had seized hold of me.

“Not very,” I answered.

“Then stay aboard, or we shall be having to pick you up instead of saving the man who fell overboard. I know Pim well; he’ll take care of himself.”

Saying this, the lieutenant stepped in on deck again, taking me with him. While he superintended the lowering of the boat, I ran aft, and watched Tom and the drowning man. Just then I caught sight of the countenance of the latter, and to my dismay, I saw that he was no other than Larry Harrigan. The boats usually employed were away, and the one now lowered was not in general use, and consequently had in her all sorts of things which should not have been there. It appeared a long time before she was in the water. I watched my poor foster-brother with intense anxiety, expecting to see him go down before Tom could reach him. He was on the point of sinking when my gallant little messmate got up to him, and throwing himself on his back, placed Larry’s head on his own breast, so as completely to keep it out of the water. My fear was that Larry might come to himself and begin to struggle or get hold of Tom, which might be fatal to both. They were drifting farther and farther away from the ship. Tom had not uttered one cry for help, evidently being confident that the boat would be sent to pick them up. Every movement of his showed that he was calm, and knew perfectly what he was about. At length the boat was got into the water, the first lieutenant and four hands jumped into her, and away the men pulled as fast as they could lay their backs to the oars. It was blowing fresh, and there was a good deal of ripple in the harbour, so that the wavelets every now and then washed over Tom. Suddenly Larry, coming to himself, did what I feared; he seized hold of Tom, and in another instant would have dragged him down had not Tom dexterously got clear and held him up by the collar of his shirt. The boat was quickly up to them, and they were, to my intense satisfaction, safely hauled on board. She then rapidly pulled back to the ship, and both greatly exhausted, Larry being scarcely conscious, were lifted up on deck. McPherson, the assistant-surgeon, who had been summoned at once, ordered Tom to be taken below.

“Never mind me,” said Tom. “I shall be all to rights presently, when I’ve changed and had a cup of grog. You’ll let me have that, won’t you, McPherson? And now you go and attend to the poor fellow who wants you more than I do.”

“Vara true; he ought, from the way he fell, to have broken every bone in his body; and it’s wonderful he did not do it. He seems, indeed, not to be much the worse for his fall, except a slight paralysis,” he remarked when he had finished his examination. “Take him down to the sick bay, and I’ll treat him as he requires.”

I first went below to thank Tom Pim for saving my follower, and to express my admiration of his courage and resolution.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he answered; “I can swim better than you, or you’d have done the same.”

I then went forward, where I found Larry—his wet clothes stripped off—between the blankets, in a hammock.

The doctor administered a stimulant, and directed that he should be rubbed on the side on which he had fallen.

“Shure that’s a brave young gentleman to save me from going to the bottom, Misther Terence dear; and I’ll be mighty grateful to him as long as I live,” he said to me.

Having spent some time with Larry, who was ordered to remain in his hammock, I returned to the midshipmen’s berth.

All were loud in their praises of Tom. Tom received them very modestly, and said that though he felt very glad at being able to save the poor fellow, he didn’t see anything to be especially proud of in what he had done.

By the next morning Larry was almost well, only complaining of a little stiffness in one side of the body.

“He may thank his stars for being an Irishman,” said McPherson; “no ordinary mortal could have fallen from aloft as he did, into the water, without breaking his bones, or being stunned.”

Larry could scarcely believe that it was little Tom Pim who had saved him from drowning.

“Shure, young gintleman, I’ll be after lovin’ ye, and fightin’ for ye, and seein’ that no harm comes to ye, all the days of my life!” he exclaimed, the first time he met Tom afterwards on deck. “I’m mighty grateful to ye, sir, that I am.”

I was very sure that Larry meant what he said, and, should opportunity offer, would carry out his intentions.

We were seated talking in the berth after tea, when old Nettleship was sent for into the cabin. There were many surmises as to what the captain wanted him for. After some time, to my surprise, I was summoned. I found it was only Nettleship that wanted to see me on deck.

“Paddy,” he said, “we are to have an expedition on shore, and you are wanted to take part in it, and so is your countryman, Larry Harrigan. The captain, Mr Saunders, and I have planned it. We want some more hands, and we hear that there are a goodish lot hiding away in the town. They are waiting till the men-of-war put to sea, when they think that they will be safe. They are in the hands of some cunning fellows, and it’ll be no easy matter to trap them unless we can manage to play them a trick. I can’t say that I like particularly doing what we propose, but we’re bound to sacrifice our own feelings for the good of the service.”

“What is it?” I asked. “Of course I should be proud to be employed in anything for the good of the service.”

“All right, Paddy; that’s the spirit which should animate you. Now listen. Mr Saunders and I are going on shore with a strong party of well-armed men, and we want you and the boy Harrigan—or rather, the captain wants you, for remember he gives the order—to go first and pretend that you have run away from a man-of-war, and want to be kept in hiding till she has sailed. You, of course, are to dress up as seamen in old clothes—the more disreputable and dirty you look the better. We know the houses where the men are stowed away, in the lowest slums of Cork, and we can direct you to them. You’re to get into the confidence of the men, and learn what they intend doing; when you’ve gained that, you’re to tell them that one of the lieutenants of your ship is going on shore with a small party of men, to try and press anybody he can find, and that you don’t think he knows much about the business, as he is a stupid Englishman, and advise them to lie snug where they are. Then either you or Harrigan can offer to creep out and try and ascertain in what direction the press-gang is going. There are several houses together, with passages leading from one to the other, so that if we get into one, the men are sure to bolt off into another; and it must be your business to see where they go, and Harrigan must shut the door to prevent their escape, or open it to let us in. I now only describe the outlines of our plan. I’ll give you more particulars as we pull up the river. We shall remain at Passage till after dark, and you and your companion in the meanwhile must make your way into the town.”

“But shure won’t I be after telling a lie if I say that Larry and I are runaway ship-boys?” I asked.

“Hush, that’s a strong expression. Remember that it’s all for the good of the service,” said Nettleship.

Still I was not altogether satisfied that the part I was about to play was altogether an honourable one.

He, however, argued the point with me, acknowledging that he himself didn’t think so, but that we were bound to put our private feelings into our pockets when the good of the service required it. He now told me to go and speak to Larry, but on no account to let any one hear me, lest the expedition might get wind among the bumboat women, who would be sure to convey it on shore.

To my surprise, Larry was perfectly prepared to undertake the duty imposed on him, feeling flattered at being employed, and taking rather a pleasure at the thoughts of having to entrap some of our countrymen.

“They may grumble a little at first, but they’ll be a mighty deal better off on board ship than digging praties, or sailing in one of those little craft out there,” he said, with a look of contempt at the merchant vessels.

Mr Saunders took me into his cabin, and made me rig out in a suit of clothes supplied by the purser. I had to rub my hair about till it was like a mop; then, with some charcoal and a mixture of some sort, he daubed my face over in such a way that I didn’t know myself when I looked in his shaving-glass.

“You’ll do, Paddy,” said Nettleship when he saw me. “We must be giving a touch or two to Harrigan. He seems a sharp fellow, and will play his part well, I have no doubt.”

In a short time the boats were ready. We went with Mr Saunders and Nettleship in the pinnace. She was accompanied by the jolly-boat, which it was intended should convey Larry and me into the neighbourhood of the town. We were, however, not to go on board her until we reached Passage. The crew gave way, and as the tide was in our favour we got along rapidly. I found that the expedition we were engaged in was a hazardous one, especially for Larry and me; for should the men we were in search of discover who we were, they might treat us as spies, and either knock our brains out, or stow us away in some place from which we should not be likely to make our escape. This, however, rather enhanced the interest I began to feel in it, and recompensed me for its doubtful character.

Neither Mr Saunders nor Nettleship looked in the slightest degree like officers of the Royal Navy. They were dressed in Flushing coats; the lieutenant in a battered old sou’-wester, with a red woollen comforter round his throat; Nettleship had on an equally ancient-looking tarpaulin, and both wore high-boots, long unacquainted with blacking. They carried stout cudgels in their hands, their hangers and pistols being concealed under their coats. In about an hour and a half we reached Passage, when Nettleship and Larry and I got into the jolly-boat.

“I’m going with you,” said Nettleship, “that I may direct you to the scene of operations, and am to wait for Mr Saunders at the ‘Fox and Goose,’—a small public-house, the master of which knows our object and can be trusted.”

Nettleship, as we pulled away, minutely described over and over again what Larry and I were to do, so that I thought there was no chance of our making any mistake, provided matters went as he expected. It was dark by the time we reached Cork. The boat pulled into the landing-place, and Larry and I, with two of the men, went ashore, and strolled lazily along a short distance, looking about us. This we did in case we should be observed; but on reaching the corner, Larry and I, as we had been directed, set off running, when the two men returned to the boat, which was to go to another landing-place a little way higher up, whence Nettleship and his party were to proceed to our rendezvous. When we had got a little distance we pulled up, and to be certain that we had made no mistake, we inquired the name of the street of a passer-by. We found that we were all right. We now proceeded stealthily along to the lane where Mother McCleary’s whisky-shop was situated. I had no difficulty in recognising the old woman, as she had been well described to me. Her stout slatternly figure, her bleared eyes, her grog-blossomed nose,—anything but a beauty to look at. Her proceedings were not beautiful either. Going to the end of the counter where she was standing, I tipped her a wink.

“Hist, mither! Can yer be after taking care of two poor boys for a night or so?” I asked.

“Where do yer come from?” she inquired, eyeing us.

“Shure it’s from the say,” answered Larry, who had undertaken to be chief spokesman. “We’ve just run away from a thundering big king’s ship, and don’t want to go back again.”

“Why for?” asked the old woman.

“For fear of a big baste of a cat which may chance to score our backs, if she doesn’t treat us worse than that.”

Chapter Eight.

The press-gang.

“That’s a big thundering lie,” I heard Larry whisper.

“Come in,” said the old woman, lifting up the flap of the counter. “I’ll house yer if yer can pay for yer board and lodging.”

“No fear of that, ma’am,” I replied, showing some silver which I had ready in my pocket for the purpose.

“Come along, my boys,” she answered, her eyes twinkling at the thought of being able to fleece us, as she led us into a small room at the back of the shop.

There was no one else in the place at the time, except a boy attending to the counter, so that there was little chance of our being observed. Having lit a small lantern, the old woman drew aside a curtain at the further end of the room, which had served to conceal a strong-looking door; then taking a big key out of her pocket, she opened it, and told us to go through. Carefully closing the door behind her, she led the way along a narrow dark passage. It seemed of considerable length. At last we reached another door, and emerged into a court or alley, crossing which she opened a third door, and told us to pass through. We obeyed, and followed her past a couple of rooms, in one of which several men were sitting, drinking and smoking. Unlocking another door, she showed us into a much larger apartment than any we had as yet seen. Though low, it was spacious enough to be called a hall I took in the appearance of the place at a glance. On one side was a recess with a counter before it, at which a couple of damsels were serving out liquors and various sorts of provisions. At the further end, four large casks supported some planks which served as a platform, and on this a chair was placed,—the seat being evidently for a musician. Three doors besides the one by which we had entered opened from the room, which was occupied by a dozen or more rough-looking men, mostly sailors. Some were standing at the counter, others lounging on benches round the walls, most of them having dhudeens in their mouths. The place was redolent with the fumes of whisky and tobacco. No one took notice of us as we entered, but, seeing Mother McCleary, seemed satisfied that all was right.

“You’ll find a stair through that doorway,” she said, pointing to one near the orchestra, if so it could be called; “it will lead you to the sleeping-room, where you’ll be after finding some beds. You’ll remember that first come first served, and if you don’t be tumbling into one it will be your own fault, and you’ll have to prick for the softest plank in the corner of the room. Now, boys, you’ll be after handing me out a couple of shillings each. I don’t give credit, except to those I happen to know better than I do you.”

I paid the money at once for Larry and myself. The old woman, bidding us make ourselves at home, returned by the way she had come, locking the door behind her. I soon found that we were among as ruffianly and disreputable a set of fellows as I had ever fallen in with, but none of them interfered with us, and I began to doubt whether we should obtain the information we were in search of. To try to get into conversation with some one, we walked up to the counter, took a pork pie apiece, and called for a glass of whisky, which we prudently mixed with plenty of water. “Don’t be drinking much of it,” I said to Larry, “it’s as hot as fire.”

Two seamen then came up, and I asked one of them when the fun was to begin. Arrah, then it’ll be before long, when Tim Curtin, the fiddler, has come to himself; but he’s been drunk all the blessed morning, since last night, and they’re dousing him outside with cold water to bring him to. My new acquaintance being evidently inclined to be communicative, I plied him with further questions, and I gained his confidence by calling for another glass of whisky, with which I insisted on treating him. I, however, let Larry carry on the chief part of the conversation.

“If you’ve run from a man-of-war, you’ll have to lie snug as mice in their holes till she sails, or there’s three dozen at least for each of you, if they don’t run you up at the yard-arm, as they did at Portsmouth the other day to a poor boy, just because he wanted to go home to his wife and family,” said the man.

This, though a fact as far as the hanging was concerned, I hadn’t heard of before. Larry didn’t show that he doubted the truth of the story, but pretended to be very frightened.

“Thin what should we be after doing?” he asked.

“Why, as I tell yer,” he said, keep close; “you’ll be wise not to show your noses out of doors for a week or two to come, if you’ve got money enough to pay old Mother McCleary, for she doesn’t keep us boys for nothing, you may stake yer davey.”

“What should we be after doing, then, supposing the press-gang were to come down upon us and find us out?” asked Larry.

“It will be at the end of a long day before the press-gang get in here; but see now, there’s a room overhead where you can sleep secure, either in bed or out of it. Then there’s that door in the middle of the room, that leads to a long passage, just like the one you passed through when you came in here. At the end of it there’s a court, and on the opposite side you’ll find a door. Go through that when it opens, which it will do when you have given three raps quick together, and you’ll be in a house with well-nigh as many rooms and cellars as there’s days in the month. It will be a hard matter if you don’t stow yourselves away out of sight in one of them. I’ll be after showing you the way by and by, when the dancing is over, and we’ve had a few more glasses of Mother McCleary’s whisky.”

While our friend, whose name we had not as yet learned, was speaking, I observed several more persons entering the room; and presently others came in, carrying among them a humpbacked little fellow, with a fiddle under his arm, who seemed scarcely able to walk by himself. They made their way to the platform I have described, and speedily lifted him into the chair.

“Strike up, Tim,” cried several voices. “Give us a tune to set our feet agoing. Be alive, man, if you know now where you are.”

Tim, though apparently half-asleep, put his fiddle to his chin, and began scraping away, nodding his head and stamping with his foot in time to the tune he was eliciting from his instrument. The effect was magical. The whole party, men and women,—there were not a few of the latter, not among the most refined of their sex,—began dancing jigs. Tim next played slower, but his speed increased again as he saw the dancers warming to their work, till his bow moved so rapidly over the strings of his fiddle, and his arm and his head gave such eccentric jerks, that I half expected at any moment to see the one fly off at a tangent and the other come bounding into the middle of the room. Larry and I kept on one side, trying to look greatly interested with the performance, while we managed to have a few words now and then with some of the men, who were either seated on the benches or standing against the wall. Among them were several who had not the appearance of seamen, and who, I surmised, were highwaymen or housebreakers. Two of them were especially ruffianly looking. As I examined the countenance of one of these, I felt convinced that I had seen it before, and not long ago either. I was careful, however, that he should not discover that I was observing him. I took an opportunity of asking Larry if he knew who the man was.

“Shure it’s no other than Dan Hoolan himself,” he answered. I fancied that at length his keen eyes were directed on Larry, whom he was more likely to recognise than me, seeing that I was the most completely disguised of the two.

At length, having gained all the information we could, I determined to try and get out of the place, so that I might make my way to Nettleship, and show him the best situation for posting his men to capture any who might attempt to escape. It had been arranged that Nettleship’s party was to enter the grog-shop one by one; then, at a signal, force their way along the passage through which Mother McCleary had led us.

“I’m mighty afraid the press-gang will be coming this way, and if this hullaballoo reaches their ears, they’ll be after putting their noses in to see what the fun is about. If they’re from our own ship, bedad, we shall be worse off than we would have been outside,” I said to our new acquaintance, who, by this time, was not quite steady on his pins. “I’d just like to slip away, and try and find out if they’re near this at all. My mate here is plaised to stay behind, as he’s mighty eager to dance himself.”

After further pressing the point with all necessary caution, our new friend, Barney Reillagan, as he called himself, offered to show me the way out, and to let me in again when I wished to return.

“You’re free of the place, I’m supposing; and shure I am that I may be after trusting you,” he observed as he accompanied me into the passage I spoke of.

I hoped that we were unobserved by Hoolan or any of the other men, who might have suspicions of my true character. Larry followed so noiselessly, that I do not think Barney was aware he was with us. Larry’s object was to see that no harm came to me; and besides which, he wanted to learn how to let me in again on my return. Barney himself was apparently an open-hearted seaman, who preferred serving on board a peaceable trader to a man-of-war, and I had no fear of his playing me false.

We had to grope our way to the end of the passage, which was as long as he had described. Unbolting a door, Barney led me out into a narrow court. I could hear even there the strains of the riddle, and the shouts and screams of the dancers. Barney told me that if I turned to the left I should come to a narrow archway, which led into the lane, and that by turning again to the left, I should come to the front of Mother McCleary’s whisky-shop.

This information was sufficient to enable me to find my way without difficulty. I was somewhat surprised at the ease with which I had made my escape. I had little doubt of being able to bring Nettleship and his men up to the right place. My only anxiety was about Larry, who, if recognised by Dan Hoolan, might be severely handled, if not killed,—for so determined a ruffian was not likely to hesitate in committing any act, however atrocious, should he suspect Larry of treachery.

I slipped out into the court, and Barney closed the door after me. The night was very dark; but I could see two or three shadowy forms flitting by, though no one stopped me. Now and then a ruffian voice, a wild shriek, or a child’s cry, came from the narrow windows looking into the court. I walked on as fast as I could venture to move, till I found the narrow archway which Barney had described, and emerged into a lane, which, however, was not much broader than the court. Here the sounds of wrangling voices, and shouts, and the drunkards’ wild songs, broke the stillness of night. A few men rolled by, who had come out of Mother McCleary’s whisky-shop, or other similar establishments; but I carefully kept out of their way till I arrived at the “Fox and Goose,” where I expected to find Nettleship. It hadn’t occurred to me, however, that I might have been followed, and our plan for trapping the seamen discovered. I at once entered, and found my messmate with his men ready to set out.

“You’ve been longer than I expected, Paddy; but I hope it’s all right,” he said.

“If we are quick about it, I expect we shall catch a good number,” I answered. “Where is Mr Saunders? We shall require a strong party to overpower the fellows, especially as there are some desperate ruffians among them;” and I told him how I had discovered the outlaw, Dan Hoolan.

“Mr Saunders is waiting just outside, round the corner,” he said. “I’ll go out and tell him that you have come back, and meanwhile you remain here.”

In a short time Nettleship returned.

“You are to accompany Mr Saunders,” he said, “and lead his party round to the court, while I and my men take charge of Mother McCleary, so that no one may escape on this side.”

Mr Saunders welcomed me in a good-natured voice.

“You have done well thus far, my lad. I’ve no doubt that we shall trap some of them,” he said, when I had given a description of the place and the characters it contained. “I have got hold of a man who knows the town, and will lead us round by a different way to the court to that by which you escaped, while Nettleship goes directly up the lane,” he added. “Come along!”

We set out at a rapid rate; the men being charged to make as little noise with their feet as possible. We must have gone a considerable way round, for it seemed a long while before we reached the archway, which I at once recognised. The lieutenant led, with a pistol in one hand and his hanger in the other, knowing that he was likely to be treated with scant ceremony should he encounter any of the residents of that neighbourhood.

“Now,” he said to me, stopping, “do you creep forward and learn if Harrigan is at the door ready to open it. If not, wait to get in yourself, and then take the first opportunity of admitting us. If you can’t get in we must try and force the door open, but it would be a great matter to get along the passage, so as to rush in upon the fellows while they are at their revels, and before they expect our approach.”

As he spoke we could hear the sound of Tim Curtin’s fiddle, and the hum of voices coming from the interior of the building. Our fear was that any of the inmates of the neighbouring dens might be awake, and, catching sight of us, might give the alarm, and allow the men time to escape. As far as I had learned, however, the door we were now watching and Mother McCleary’s whisky-shop were the only outlets, though there might be underground passages and cellars and holes, where, should they stow themselves away, we might find it difficult to discover them.

As I crept forward, I felt my heart beating more than it was wont to do,—not from fear, certainly, but from anxiety to succeed. I didn’t like the business; I considered it a dirty one; but I was acting according to my orders, and for the good of the service. I had been told to give three rapid knocks, followed by others at short intervals, at the opposite door, and I concluded that this would be opened should I make the same signal. Without loss of a moment I knocked, and presently I heard a bolt withdrawn, then another and another.

“Is that yourself?” asked a voice that I knew to be Larry’s.

“Yes, to be shure, and no other,” I answered in the same tone.

The door opened slightly.

“They’re suspecting me,” said Larry. Be quick.

Mr Saunders, who was on the watch, hearing this, dashed forward, followed by his men. They sprang, led by the lieutenant, one after the other, into the passage, nearly knocking Larry and me over. There was not a moment to be lost, we knew, for the door at the further end was closed with a loud slam before we reached it, but not being as strong as the one on the outside, it was quickly battered in, when we caught sight of a dozen or more fellows, some trying to escape up-stairs, others through the two passages I have mentioned. Three or four of the men, however, stood their ground in front of the passage leading to the whisky-shop, with hangers or pistols in their hands, which they apparently had just taken up from the corner of the room where they had deposited them. Among these I recognised Dan Hoolan. Bestowing a not very complimentary epithet on Larry and me, he flourished his hanger and dared any one to come on and touch him.

“I and my friends here are not seamen,” he exclaimed. “You’re after trying to press some of the poor fellows, I suppose; but if any man tries to lay hands on me, he’ll be wise to say his prayers before he begins.”

“I intend to lay hands on you, and every fellow I find here,” said Mr Saunders. “Drop your hanger, or you’ll have to repent the day you drew it.”

Hoolan answered with a scornful laugh, and made a blow at the lieutenant, who, however, parried it.

At that moment the door behind him was burst open, and in rushed Nettleship and his party, who threw themselves at once upon Hoolan. The outlaw fired his pistol at my head, but fortunately his arm was thrown up, and the ball struck the ceiling. His men, seeing their leader overpowered, made but little resistance. But we had not yet got the men whose capture was desired. Mr Saunders, leaving Nettleship to secure those below, followed Larry and me up the stairs.

In the meantime the female part of the assemblage, some of whom had retired to different parts of the room, were saluting us with the most fearful cries and execrations. The lieutenant, however, took no more notice of them than if they had been so many lambs bleating, and at once hurried up the stairs to the room above, where we found well-nigh a score of men, some trying to make their way out of the window, but which, having been closed, they had only just then succeeded in opening; others hiding inside the beds or under them. Three or four got away, but the remainder were knocked over by our men, or captured without resistance, scarcely any attempting to defend themselves. Our success had been as complete as could have been hoped for. Our captives were quickly dragged down the stairs, when Mr Saunders ordered the women to clear out of the house forthwith, and proceeded to lash the hands of the men behind their backs. It was very easy to give the order to the women, but not so easy to get it obeyed. They shrieked and abused us in a way in which few of the female sex can beat the lower orders of my countrywomen. At length, however, finding that their eloquence had no effect, they retreated through the door that we had left open. It turned out that the means of escape were not so elaborate as had been supposed, and, as far as we could learn, all the men in the neighbourhood had on this occasion collected at Mother McCleary’s. Most of those we had captured behaved quietly enough, but Hoolan and two or three others made violent efforts to escape, till a prog or two from a cutlass compelled them to be quiet.

“And what are you going to do with me, a landsman who never was to sea in his life?” exclaimed Hoolan.

“We shall turn you into a sailor before long, my fine fellow,” answered Mr Saunders. “You’ll be wiser to walk along, and quietly too, as we’ve no time for nonsense.”

Our prisoners were now marshalled, in most cases with a seaman to attend to each. Hoolan had two to look after him, though one guard sufficed for some of the more peaceably disposed. Nettleship led the way, and Mr Saunders and I brought up the rear, Larry being employed in guarding a fellow twice his size, with orders to cut him down if he made any resistance.

“We must be out of this as fast as we can,” said Mr Saunders to me, “for very likely those fellows who made their escape will rouse their friends, and we may have a mob of all the ruffians in the town upon us before we can reach the boats.”

What had become of Mother McCleary and her assistants we could not tell. She probably thought it wise to keep out of the way, lest any of her late guests might suspect her of betraying them, as she probably had done. We had not got more than half-way towards the boats, when our ears were saluted by a chorus of yells and shrieks, and we could distinguish through the gloom on either side of us a mass of human beings, apparently intending to attempt the rescue of our prisoners.

“I warn you, good people, that if you come nearer, I’ll give my men orders to fire on you,” shouted my lieutenant.

A volley of wild yells burst from the mob, sufficient to unnerve many who had not before heard such cries. Directly afterwards a brickbat flew past my head, aimed, no doubt, at the more prominent figure of the lieutenant. Fortunately, it missed us both.

“Remember, if any of you are killed, you’ll have brought the punishment on yourselves,” again shouted the lieutenant.

Though the people yelled as before, the warning had its effect, and we could see the dark moving mass retreating to a more respectful distance. They, apparently, only wanted a leader to make an onslaught. That leader, however, was not to be found. Had Hoolan been at liberty, I have no doubt but that we should have fared but ill. As it was, missiles from a distance came flying by us, though the prisoners suffered more than we did. Mr Saunders was naturally anxious to avoid bloodshed. At length the boats were reached. Again Hoolan made a desperate effort to get free, but he was hauled on board, and thrust down to the bottom of the pinnace, the rest of the men being disposed of, some in her, and others in the jolly-boat, of which Nettleship took charge. As we shoved off the people collected on the quay, saluting us with renewed yells and execrations, and brickbats, stones, mud, and filth were hurled at us. We speedily, however, got beyond their reach, no one receiving any serious damage.

“We’ve made a fine haul,” observed Mr Saunders as we pulled down the river. “We shall soon turn these fellows into good seamen, as obedient and quiet as lambs.”

“I’m thinking, sir, that you’ll not find Dan Hoolan as quiet as a lamb,” I observed; and I told him of the encounter my uncle and I had had with the outlaw and his followers.

“That’ll make no difference,” answered Mr Saunders. “When he finds that he can’t escape, if he’s got any sense in his brains he’ll bend to circumstances.”

I still, however, doubted whether my lieutenant’s opinion would prove right.

When the boats arrived alongside the frigate, our captives, being unable to help themselves, were hoisted up like bales of goods, and made to stand on the deck in a line. They all looked sulky enough as the lantern was held up to their faces; but Hoolan’s countenance wore a ferocious aspect, which made me think that it would have been as well to have left him on shore to be hanged, which in all probability would ultimately have been his fate. Mr Saunders had changed his rough dress for his proper uniform, and as he went round to inspect the prisoners Hoolan recognised him, and so savage did he look that I thought he would have sprung at his throat.

“Are you the captain of the ship?” he asked in a fierce tone.

“No, I’m not the captain, but an officer, who you’ll be compelled to obey,” answered Mr Saunders, interrupting him. “Keep down what was rising to your tongue, or it’ll be the worse for you.”

“I’m no seaman, and I don’t want to be after going to sea; and I beg you to tell me for what reason you knocked me down against the law?”

“You were found among seamen, and if you’re not one we’ll make you one before long, my fine fellow,” said the lieutenant.

“Arrah, it’ll be a hard matter to do that same,” cried Hoolan, but he spoke in a less savage tone than at first.

“We shall see to that,” said Mr Saunders as he passed on to the other men, most of whom appeared quiet enough. Even Hoolan’s followers didn’t venture to say anything, having a just conception of the stern discipline on board a man-of-war. The execution of one or more seamen for frequent desertion, of which I have before spoken, showed them that they could not venture to play tricks with impunity.

Having had their names,—or such as they chose to give,—ages, and other particulars entered, they were sent down to the main-deck under a strong guard, with a hint that should they exhibit the slightest degree of insubordination it would be the worse for them.

The light of a lantern happened to fall on my face while I was passing Hoolan, who, with the rest, were seated on the deck, where they were to pass the remainder of the night. He started up, and glaring savagely at me, with a fierce oath exclaimed, as he stretched out his arm—

“There’s one of the young traitors who brought us into this trouble. I wish we had strung you up to Saint Bridget’s oak when we had you and your uncle in our power.”

“Then, as I thought, you are Dan Hoolan,” I said. “You have now a chance of leading an honest life, and I’d advise you to take advantage of it.”

Hoolan, without replying, sank back on the deck.

I was glad enough to turn in, and slept soundly till the hammocks were piped up next morning.

On coming on deck I saw Blue Peter flying at the masthead of our own ship, and at those of the two other men-of-war, a frigate and a corvette, and of all the merchantmen. The admiral fired a signal-gun. We repeated it, and before the smoke had cleared away the merchantmen let fall their topsails, we setting them the example; the anchor was hove up to the merry sound of the fife, and, taking the lead, we stood out of the Cove of Cork with a fair breeze, the other frigate and corvette acting as whippers-in.

The sky was clear and the sea smooth. We hove-to outside to wait for the vessels we were to convoy. In half an hour or so they were all out of the harbour. Besides the men-of-war there were fully sixty merchantmen; and a beautiful sight they presented, dotting the blue ocean with their white sails.

We were bound out to Jamaica, where we were to leave the larger number of vessels, and proceed with the others to their several destinations, having then to return to Port Royal. Two line-of-battle ships came out afterwards to convoy the fleet till we were well away from the coast, that, should we be seen by an enemy, it might be supposed that we were too strong a force to be attacked.

I should have said that when we were getting under weigh I saw Hoolan, and the other pressed men, dressed as man-of-war’s men, working away at the capstan. He evidently didn’t like his task, but could not help himself, as he had to go round with the others pressing against the capstan bars. He and the other landsmen were set to perform such work as they were capable of, of course being compelled to pull and haul when sail was made or shortened.

“I’m after thinking, Mr Terence, that Dan Hoolan, though he’s mighty quiet just now, will be playing us some prank or other before long, if he can find a chance,” observed Larry to me.

“Well, then, Larry, just keep an eye on him, and let me know what he’s about. I don’t want to make you an eavesdropper, but for the man’s own sake he must not be allowed to attempt any mischief. He’d be sure to have the worst of it.”

“Arrah now, of course he would, Mr Terence. They’re honest boys aboard here, and they’d soon clap him in limbo,” observed Larry as I passed on along the deck.

He had already become thoroughly imbued with the right spirit of a British seaman.

I gave myself, however, little concern about Hoolan after this.

For some time we had a favourable breeze; the sea was calm, and everything went smoothly. We had plenty of work keeping the squadron together, compelling the fast vessels to shorten sail, and the laggards to make it. Some ran on with only their topsails set. Others had studding-sails set on either side. We were all day long sending the bunting up and down, and firing guns as signals.

“Why are all those bits of coloured stuff hoisted to the masthead?” asked Larry. “They tell me that the captain makes the young gentlemen run them up and down to keep their fingers warm.”

I explained to him that each flag represented a figure or number, and sometimes a word or a sentence, according to the distinguishing pennant hoisted over it. For which purpose every vessel was provided with a book of signals, and we could thus communicate with each other just as if we were speaking.

Chapter Nine.

A fight at sea.

The ocean continued so calm, that Larry was quite cock-a-hoop, thinking that he had become a perfect seaman. “I have heard tell, Maisther Terence, that the say runs mountains high, for all the world like the hills of Connemara, but I’m after thinking that these are all landsmen’s notions. We have been getting along for all the world like ducks in a pond.”

The very next day, Larry had a different tale to tell. In the morning the line-of-battle ships parted from us, and we, the Amethyst frigate, and the Piper corvette, had to continue our course alone, to protect our somewhat erratic convoy. Dark clouds were seen coming up from the north-west. The scud sped across the sky, the spin-drift flying over the fast-rising seas. In a short time the ship began to pitch into them as if determined to hammer them down, but they, not inclined to receive such treatment patiently, sent masses of spray flying over our bows, as if to show what they were capable of doing, should she persevere in her attempt. The merchantmen on all sides were bobbing away, and kicking up their sterns in the same comical fashion; and even the other frigate and corvette were playing similar pranks. The tacks were got aboard, however, and on we all went together, now heeling over when a stronger blast than usual struck us, till the water came hissing in at our main-deck ports. Sail after sail was taken off the ship. Now she rose almost on an even keel, and then again heeled over as before. The convoy followed our example, though not with the same rapidity. The sheets had been let go, and the sails of some were flying wildly in the breeze. Three or four lost their loftier masts and lighter spars, but they were still compelled to keep up by the signals which we or the Amethyst threw out. At length I had to go aloft. I could not say that I liked it. It seemed to me that with the eccentric rolls the ship was making, I might at any moment be jerked off into the seething ocean; but I recollected Tom Pim’s advice, and held on with teeth and eyelids. I got on, however, very well while I was aloft, and I managed somehow or other to reach the deck. Then—oh! how truly miserable I began to feel. Every moment I became worse and worse. As it happened, my watch was just over, and I descended to the berth. When I got there my head dropped on the table. I felt as I had never felt before; as utterly unlike as could be the brave Tipperary boy I fancied myself.

“Why, Paddy, what’s come over you?” exclaimed Nettleship, who had just then come below. “Why, you look as if you had heard the banshee howl, or dipped your face into a pot of white paint.”

“Oh! oh!” I exclaimed, my lip curling, and feeling the most miserable of human beings, so I fancied. I could utter no other articulate sound.

“Get up, youngster, and dance a hornpipe,” cried Nettleship; “or I’ll just send to the galley for a lump of fat pork, and if you’ll swallow an ounce or so, it will do you all the good in the world.”

The very mention of the fat pork finished me off. I bolted out of the berth, which was to windward, and went staggering away to the opposite side of the ship, having made a vain attempt to get to the main-deck, upsetting Tom Pim in my course, and not stopping till I pitched right against Doctor McCall, our surgeon, much after the manner that I had treated old Rough-and-Ready. Our good medico, not being so secure as the lieutenant on his pins, was unfortunately upset, and together we rolled into his dispensary, out of which he was at that moment coming. There we lay, amidst a quantity of phials, jars, and gallipots, which, having been improperly secured, came crashing down upon us. The doctor kicked and struggled, and endeavoured to rise, but I was too far gone to make any effort of the sort. Had he been inclined, he might have pounded me to death before I should have cried out for mercy. I was unable even to say that I could not help it, though he must have known that well enough. I need not describe what happened. Fortunately he had got to his feet before the occurrence to which I wish only delicately to allude took place. I felt wonderfully better.

“Why, Paddy, is it you, my boy?” he exclaimed, not a bit angry; for being a good-natured man, he was ready to make every allowance for the occurrence.

“I believe it’s myself, sir; though I’m not altogether clear about it,” I answered as I got up and tried to crawl out of the place.

“Stay, youngster, you shall have something before you go which will set you to rights,” he said in a kind tone.

As well as he could, with the ship pitching and rolling, he poured out a mixture, which he handed to me, and bade me drink off. It revived me considerably, though I still felt very shaky.

“If I should ever want to have a leg or an arm cut off, I hope, sir, that you’ll do it for me,” I said, for I could think of nothing else at the moment to express my gratitude.

The doctor laughed. “I wish you better luck than that, my boy,” he observed. “What makes you say that?”

“Because, sir, you didn’t find fault with me for tumbling you over; now, when I ran against Mr Saunders, he sent me to the masthead for a couple of hours.”

“You were skylarking then, my lad, and the ship was not pitching and tumbling about as she now is,” he said. “However, go and lie down in the berth, if you can find room there, and you’ll soon be all to rights.”

I willingly obeyed his injunctions, while he sent to have his dispensary cleaned, and the phials and gallipots which had escaped fracture picked up. I believe a good many were saved by tumbling upon us instead of upon the deck.

As Nettleship and the other midshipmen were merciful, I managed to have a good caulk on the locker. When I awoke I felt almost like myself again. I dreaded, however, having to go on deck to keep watch, and was much inclined to ask the doctor to put me on the sick list.

In my sufferings I had not forgotten my follower, Larry. As soon as I could, I hastened forward to see how he was getting on, as I had ascertained that it was his watch below.

As I got forward, a scene of human misery and wretchedness presented itself, such as I had never before witnessed. Half the marines were lying about the deck, unable to lift up their heads, while most of the boys were in the same condition. Among them I found Larry. He gazed at me with lack-lustre eyes as I approached.

“Shure, the say’s not at all at all the place I thought it was, Mr Terence,” he groaned forth. “I’ve been turned inside out entirely. I don’t even know whether the inside of me isn’t the outside.”

There was a general groan, as the ship at that moment pitched into a sea, and I had to hold on fast, or I should have been sent in among the mass of human misery. When she rose again and was steady for an instant, I was able to speak to Larry.

“I can’t say I feel very comfortable myself,” I said; “but rouse up and try to prevent your feelings from overcoming you.”

“Och, Master Terence, but my faylings are mighty powerful, and for the life of me I can’t master them,” he groaned out.

This was very evident; and what with the smells and the closeness of the air,—not to speak of the pitching and rolling of the ship,—I was again almost overpowered, when there came a cry of “All hands save ship!” and down sprang the boatswain’s mates, and began kicking away at the hapless marines and green hands. Larry in a moment leaped to his feet I heard a savage growl close to me, and just then caught sight of Dan Hoolan’s countenance. Though he was kicked and cuffed, nothing would make him get up, and I saw him still lying prostrate when I hurried off to gain the deck.

The ship, struck by a heavy squall, was lying over almost on her beam-ends; the officers were shouting out their orders through their speaking-trumpets; the men were hurrying here and there as directed, some going aloft, others letting fly tacks, and sheets clewing up and hauling down. Suddenly the buoyant frigate righted herself. It seemed a wonder that none of the men were jerked overboard. The canvas was further reduced, and on we went, pounding away into the seas.

Larry was as active as any one. He seemed to have forgotten all about his sickness. It was the last time, too, that I ever suffered from the malady, and from that day forward—blow high or blow low—I felt as easy in my inside as I should on shore. A few spars had been carried away on board the merchantmen, but, as far as we could see, no other damage had occurred.

In a couple of days more the gale had completely worn itself out, and everything went as smoothly as heretofore. We were then within about a week’s sail of the West Indies. The weather was now warm and pleasant,—sometimes, during a calm, a little too hot.

One morning, just at daybreak, the look-out from the masthead announced that he saw three sail to windward. The second lieutenant went aloft, and looked at them with his glass. When he came down he pronounced two of them to be frigates, and the other a smaller vessel. We threw out signals to the convoy to keep together, while we and the other two men-of-war, hauling our wind, stood closer to the strangers. At first it was supposed that they were English, but their manoeuvres made us doubt this, and at length they were pronounced decidedly French. That they intended to pick off some of the merchantmen there could be no doubt; and this it was our object to prevent.

“Paddy, my boy,” said Tom Pim, coming up to me as I stood looking at the enemy from the quarter-deck, “we shall have some righting before long, no doubt about that. How do you feel?”

“Mighty pleased, and very ready for it,” I answered.

“We’re fairly matched, I should think,” remarked Tom. “If we could count the guns of the enemy, I suspect there would not be found the difference of half a dozen between us. All depends on the way our ships are manoeuvred, and how we fight our guns,—though I’ve no fear on that score.”

It was soon evident that Captain Macnamara intended to fight, and the order was given to clear the ship for action. The drum beat to quarters. All hands went about their duties with alacrity. I was sent down into the cockpit with a message. There I found the surgeons making their preparations; with their tourniquets, saws, knives, and other instruments, arranged ready for the expected operations; and there were buckets, and bowls of water, and sponges, and various other things likely to be required. In the centre was the amputating table, on which, before long, some poor fellow would probably be stretched, to be deprived of a leg or an arm; while an odour of vinegar pervaded the place.

The powder magazine had been opened. The gunner and his mates were engaged in serving out the ammunition, which the powder-monkeys were carrying up on deck in their tubs. Cutlasses were girded on, and pistols stuck in belts. Boarding pikes were arranged so as to be easily seized if wanted. The men, hurrying to their respective guns, loaded and ran them out; and as I passed along the decks I remarked their countenances all exhibiting their eagerness for the fight.

Among them I observed Hoolan, who had been stationed at a gun. He was apparently as ready to fight as any one on board. His features were as stern and morose as ever, but there was a fire in his eye, which showed that he contemplated the approaching battle with more pleasure than fear. Judging from the look of the men captured with him, I couldn’t say the same of them. The crew generally were full of life and spirits, laughing and joking, as if they had forgotten altogether that in a short time they would be engaged in a fierce fight. I found Larry at his gun, looking as pleased as if he were at a wake or a wedding.

“Shure we’ll be after making this fellow bark, Maisther Terence,” he said, slapping the breach. “If the old chap doesn’t drill a hole in the side of one of those ships out there, or knock away one of their masts, say I’m not a Tipperary boy.”

His remark produced a laugh among the seamen within hearing,—indeed they evidently thought that whatever Larry said ought to be considered as a good joke. Larry seemed to have a notion that his especial gun was to win the battle. As a similar feeling seemed to animate the rest of the crew, it was likely to contribute to our success.

We were still some distance from the enemy, when Tom Pim, Chaffey, and I were summoned to the quarter-deck, to act as the captain’s aides-de-camp, so that I was enabled to see all that was going forward. The rest of the midshipmen were stationed mostly on the main-deck, each in command of a certain number of guns.

The Liffy leading, we were now standing close hauled towards the enemy, who approached us almost before the wind.

The Amethyst came next to us, and the corvette followed. We hoped that within another ten minutes we should get within range of the others guns, when suddenly the enemy’s leading frigate hauled her wind. Her consorts immediately afterwards followed her example. On seeing this, our captain ordered every stitch of canvas the Liffy could carry to be set, when, the breeze freshening, we rapidly came up with the enemy. I heard some of the officers say that they intended to make off. The men at the gun near which I was standing swore at their cowardice, and I began to think that there would be no fight after all.

Presently the French ships were seen to shorten sail, when our captain sent the hands again aloft to do the same. They had barely time to come down and return to their quarters, when a shot, fired by the leading French frigate, came flying across our deck. No one was hit, but a hammock and part of the hammock-nettings were knocked away. It showed what we had to expect.

I expected that the captain would return the compliment, but he waited calmly till we got nearer. We were to leeward, it must be understood; but although that would have been a disadvantage had there been any sea running, as the ocean was calm it didn’t make much difference, while we were thus better able to protect our convoy, and prevent the enemy from running among them and committing mischief.

Again the breeze freshened, and standing on, we passed the corvette, which fired a few shots at us without doing any damage. We then received a similar compliment from the second French frigate, several of her shots striking the Liffy. In a few minutes we were up to our largest antagonist. As our bow gun came abreast of her quarter, our captain shouted, “Fire!” and gun after gun was discharged in rapid succession, the enemy blazing away at us in return.

The Amethyst was meantime engaged with the second frigate, and the corvette with the French ship of the same size as herself.

Shot after shot came on board. First one man was struck down, then another and another, and several were carried below to be placed under the hands of the surgeons. Some were drawn aside, their fighting days over. What damage we were producing among the enemy could not at first be ascertained, for all the ships, from our rapid firing, were enveloped in clouds of smoke. Looking up, I could see that our sails were pierced in several places. Crash succeeded crash, as the enemy’s shot struck our sides or bulwarks, and sent the splinters flying about in all directions.

It was somewhat trying work for us, who had nothing to do except to keep our eyes upon the captain, in case he should have any orders to give us.

We had made sure of capturing one of the French ships, if not all.

Presently, looking astern, I saw the fore-yard of the Amethyst come down on deck, and shortly afterwards our fore-top mast was carried away. Our captain, hitherto so calm, stamped his foot on the deck with vexation. Our men, to make amends, tossed their guns in and out as if they had been playthings, firing away with wonderful rapidity; and I believe the gun at which Larry was stationed fully carried out his promise of drilling more than one hole in the side of our opponent. Her masts and spars were entire, as were those of the other frigate, but their bulwarks were shattered in several places, which was evident by the white streaks their sides exhibited.

“Blaze away, my lads,” cried the captain. “We’ll still have one of them, at least, for they’ll not long stand the pounding you’re giving them.”

Our crew cheered in reply; but just as we had delivered another broadside, signals having been made on board the leading French frigate, her crew were seen going aloft, and presently the courses, topgallant sails, and royals were set, and she stood away close hauled, the other frigate and corvette doing the same.

Neither the Amethyst nor we were in a condition to follow, and to our vexation, we saw the enemy escaping from us. That we had given them a good pounding was very evident; but whether or not after repairing damages they would renew the contest was doubtful.

The little Piper, being uninjured aloft, gallantly followed, and kept blazing away at the enemy, till the captain made a signal to her to return, fearing that she might be overpowered and cut off before we could sufficiently repair damages to go to her assistance. She obeyed the order, and the Frenchmen didn’t follow her. She had received less damage aloft than we had, though, as we afterwards found, she had lost several men killed and wounded. As she came within hail, she reported that the largest of the French frigates was pumping hard, and had evidently received much damage, while the second was not in a much better condition.

This accounted for their not wishing to continue the combat, and standing away, while it seemed doubtful whether they would venture to renew it.

We had plenty of work in repairing damages, clearing away the wreck of the fore-top mast, and getting a new one ready to send aloft. We could distinguish the convoy hull down to leeward, waiting the result of the fight.

I asked Nettleship whether he thought, as soon as we had got to rights, that we should follow the enemy.

“If our captain were to act as his feelings prompt him, I should have no doubt about it,” he answered. “Fighting Macnamara, as he is known in the service, would not let an enemy escape if he could help it; but duty before all other things, and our duty is to protect the convoy under our charge. If we were to go in chase of the enemy, we might lose sight of the merchantmen, and any rascally privateers might pounce down and carry off the whole lot of them. My belief therefore is, that we shall bear up and let the Frenchmen go their way. It is not likely, after the taste they have had of our quality, that they’ll again molest us.”

Nettleship was right. The captain ordered the corvette to run down to the convoy to direct them to stand on under easy sail till we should join them. The captain and Mr Saunders, and the other officers, were exerting themselves to the utmost to get the ships to rights. The former sent me down into the cockpit, to learn from the doctor how the wounded men were getting on, and how many had been killed. I turned almost sick as I entered the place. There was anything but a fresh smell there now. I can’t properly describe it,—perhaps it was more like the odour of a butcher’s shop in the dog days, when the blue-bottles are revelling in the abundance hung up for their inspection. One poor fellow lay stretched on the table. The doctor was just then too busy to speak to me. I saw a foot sticking out of a bucket. It belonged to a leg which had just been taken off the man, who was in a dead faint. The assistant-surgeon was endeavouring to restore him to consciousness, while the surgeon was engaged in taking up the arteries. Another, who had lost an arm, was lying on a locker, waiting to be carried to the sick bay; and several others sat round with their heads and shoulders bandaged up. At last the doctor looked up, and I then delivered my message. “Five killed and nine wounded, and I’m afraid one or two of the latter may slip through my fingers,” he said. I was thankful when I was able to hurry back on deck with my report. The captain was not addicted to the sentimental, but I heard him sigh, or rather groan, after I had delivered it. As soon as any of the men could be spared, the bodies of the killed were sewn up in canvas, with shot at their feet. As we had no chaplain on board, the captain read a portion of the burial service, and the sound of quick successive plunges told that they had sunk into their ocean grave. We and the Amethyst then stood away after the convoy.

“Our first action has not been a very glorious one,” I observed, when most of the mess was once more assembled in the berth. “I made sure we should have captured one of those frigates.”

“It has been a successful one, Paddy, and we should be content with that,” said Nettleship. “If we had taken one of the enemy, we should be probably more knocked about than we are, and should have delayed the merchantmen, or allowed them to run the risk of being captured. Depend upon it, our captain will get credit for what he has done, and the credit he gets will be reflected on us.”

The wind fortunately continued fair, the sea smooth, and by the time we sighted Jamaica we were again all ataunto. Having seen the greater part of our charge into Port Royal, and sent the wounded ashore to the hospital, we stood on with the remainder of the merchantmen to Barbadoes and other islands, where we left them in safety, and then made our way back to Port Royal. We saluted the forts, and the forts saluted us; flags were flying, the sea glittering, and everything looked gay and bright as we entered that magnificent harbour.

“Shure it’s a beautiful place this, Misther Terence,” said Larry to me, as, the anchor being dropped, and the sails furled, we lay floating calmly on the placid waters. “There’s only one place to my mind that beats this, and that’s Cork harbour, though, to be sure, the mountains there are not so high, or the sky so blue as out here.”

“Or the sun so hot, Larry,” I remarked, “or the people so black. Did you ever see Irishmen like that?” and I pointed to a boat manned by negroes just coming alongside. Larry had never before seen a blackamoor, for, as may be supposed, Africans seldom found their way into Tipperary.

“Shure, your honour, is them Irishmen?” he asked.

“Speak to them, and you’ll soon find out, and they’ll tell you how long it has taken the sun to blacken their faces.”

“Then, Misther Terence, shall we be after getting our faces painted of that colour if we stay out here?” he inquired with some trouble in the tone of his voice.

“Depend upon it, Larry, we shall if we stay long enough,” I answered. I left Larry to reflect on the matter. I remembered a story I had heard of an Irishman who had gone out intending to settle in Demerara, where a large proportion of the white population have come from the Emerald Isle. As soon as the ship had dropped her anchor a number of blacks came off to her. The first he spoke to answered in a rich Irish brogue. The new-comer looked at the negro with astonishment.

“What’s your name, my man?” he asked. “Pat Casey,” was the answer.

“And, Pat, say as you love me, how long have you been out here?”

“Little better than six years, your honour,” was the reply, such being the time that had elapsed since the negro had been imported, having in the meantime had an Irish name given him, and learned to speak Irish.

“Six years, and you have turned from a white-skinned Irishman into a blackamoor!” exclaimed the new-comer; and not waiting for an answer, he rushed down into the cabin, which he could not be induced to quit until the ship sailed again, and he returned home, satisfied that the West Indies was not a country in which he could wish to take up his abode.

Not long after the conversation I have mentioned, Larry came up to me.

“I’ve been after talking, Misther Terence, with some of those black gentlemen, and shure if they’re from the old country they’ve forgotten all about it, which no raal Irishman would ever do, I’ll stake my davey!” he exclaimed. “They’ve never heard of Limerick, or Cork, or Waterford, or the Shannon, or Ballinahone, and that proves to me that they couldn’t have been in the old country since they were born. And now, Misther Terence dear, you were joking shure,” he added, giving me one of his comical looks.

“Well, Larry,” I said, “it’s a satisfaction to know that it will take us a long time to turn into niggers, or to forget old Ireland.”

As no one was near, I asked him how Dan Hoolan and the other pressed men were behaving.

“That’s just what I wanted to be speaking to you about, Misther Terence,” he answered. “I’m after thinking that they’ll not be on board many days if they get a chance of slipping on shore. I heard them one day talking about it in Irish, forgetting that I understood what they were saying; and as we had a hand in the taking of them, says I to myself, we’ll not let you go so aisy, my boys, and I’ll be after telling Misther Terence about it.”

“You have acted rightly, Larry,” I answered. “It’s the duty of every seaman to prevent mutiny or desertion, and if you hadn’t told me the fellows might have got off, though, to be sure, the best of them are king’s hard bargains.”

I took an early opportunity of telling Mr Saunders.

“Thank you, my lad,” he answered; “I’ll take care that an eye is kept upon them.”

Soon afterwards, while looking over the side, I saw a dark, triangular object gliding by at no great distance from the ship. It went about when it got under the stern, and appeared again on the other side. Mr Saunders saw it also.

“Lads,” he said, “do you know what that is? You may have heard of Port Royal Jack. That’s him. He’s especially fond of seamen’s legs, and if any of you were to go overboard, he’d snap you up in a minute.”

The word was passed along the deck. Half the crew were now in the rigging, taking a look at their enemy, and among them were Dan Hoolan and his companions. I observed a flesh-coloured mass floating a short distance off. Presently the black fin sank; a white object appeared for a moment close to the surface, and a huge mouth gulped down the mass, and disappeared with it beneath the water. It was a lesson to any one who might have attempted taking a swim to the shore.

Chapter Ten.

A fight ashore.

I have not attempted to describe Port Royal Harbour. It is large enough to hold 1000 sail. The entrance is on the left side. A strip of sand, known as the Palisades, runs east and west with the town of Port Royal, surrounded with heavy batteries at the further end. Here are the dockyard and naval arsenal, and forts with heavy guns completely commanding the entrance.

At the eastern end stands Kingston, the commercial town, before which the merchantmen bring up, while the men-of-war ride at anchor nearer the mouth. A lofty range of hills, with valleys between them, rise beyond the northern shore. Altogether, it is a grand place, and especially grand it looked just now, filled with a fleet of ships and smaller men-of-war.

Our captain, with the second lieutenant, the captain of the Amethyst, and the commander of the corvette, went on shore, and were warmly welcomed by the merchants, who said that they had rendered them signal service in so gallantly protecting the convoy. They presented each of the commanders with a piece of plate and a sum of money, to show their gratitude.

“I told you so,” said Nettleship when we heard of it; “we did our duty on that occasion, though it was a hard trial to have to let the enemy escape,” As we were likely to be detained a week to replace our fore-top mast, to repair other damages, and to get stores and fresh provisions on board, most of our mess by turns got leave to go on shore, where, down to Tom Pim, we were all made a great deal of by the planters and merchants. We were invited to breakfasts, luncheons, dinners, and dances every night. Most of our fellows lost their hearts to the dark-eyed Creoles, and Tom Pim confided to me that a lovely little damsel of fifteen had captured his.

“I didn’t intend to strike to her, but I couldn’t help it, for she blazed away at me with her smiles, and glances of her dark eyes, and her musical laughter, till I could stand them no longer, and I promised that when I become a commander I will return and marry her forthwith, if she will remain faithful to me.”

“And what did she say?” I asked.

“She laughed more than ever, and inquired how long it was likely to be before I could get my promotion. When I said that it might be in five or six, or perhaps eight years, she remarked that that was a terrible long time to wait, and that though constancy was a very fine thing, it didn’t do to try it too much.”

Irishmen have susceptible hearts, I’ve heard, but I can’t say that I lost mine to any one in particular.

We had altogether a very jolly time of it, which we enjoyed all the more because we knew that it must soon come to an end.

Tom Pim and I, who were inseparable, were at a party one evening, when a good-natured looking gentleman came up to us. “I see that you have been dancing with my little daughter Lucy,” he said, addressing Tom. “May I ask your names, and the ship to which you belong?” We told him.

“She’s not likely, I understand, to sail for some days, and if you can obtain leave I shall be very happy to see you at my country house, some few miles away from this,” he said. “My name is Talboys, and as I’m well known to Captain Macnamara I’ll write a note, which you can take on board, asking him or his first lieutenant to give you leave for a couple or three days,—the longer the better,—and to allow any other midshipmen who can be spared to accompany you.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” I answered; “but we have to return on board to-morrow morning by daylight, and I’m afraid that Mr Saunders won’t be inclined to let us go ashore again.”

“There’s nothing like asking,” he observed; “and I think that he’ll not refuse my request, so you had better try.”

Taking us into an ante-room, he wrote the promised note, of which Tom Pim took charge. He told us, if we could obtain leave, to meet him at Mammy Custard’s boarding-house, an establishment much frequented by midshipmen and other junior officers of the service. We had hitherto not slept on shore, but we knew the house well.

The ball was kept up to a late hour. As soon as it was over we repaired to the quay, where several boats were waiting to take off those who had to return to their ships.

Tom and I agreed that we had very little chance of getting leave, but that we should not refuse it if we did. The sky was clear as Nora Creina’s eye; every star was reflected on the calm surface of the water in the harbour. We were all inclined to be jolly—officers and men. Our tongues went rattling merrily on. Now and then there came a peal of laughter, now snatches of songs. We had got more than half-way down the harbour when the officer in command sang out, “Mind your helm. Where are you coming to?”

At that instant we ran slap into a shore-boat pulled by negroes, and stove in her bows. Loud shrieks and cries arose from the black crew, who began to scramble into our boat,—the wisest thing they could do, considering that their own was sinking.

“Oh, we all drown! we all drown!” they cried in loud tones. “Jack shark catch me!”

The four blacks had saved themselves, but there were two passengers in the stern-sheets who appeared to be less in a hurry to get on board. Presently, however, finding the boat settling down, one of them made a spring and tumbled on board.

“Why, Tim Connor, where did you come from?” asked one of our men. At that moment the other man, instead of trying to save himself, plunged into the water, and began swimming towards the southern shore. Perhaps he thought that he might escape in the confusion unperceived, but our lieutenant caught sight of him.

“Never mind the boat,” he exclaimed. “Out oars. We must get hold of that fellow, whoever he is.”

We were not long in coming up with the bold swimmer, who, speedily caught by the hair of his head, was hauled on board, in spite of his struggles to get free. As he was hauled aft by the orders of the lieutenant, I recognised Dan Hoolan.

“Who gave you leave to go on shore, my men?” asked the lieutenant.

“Plaise yer honour,” answered Tim Connor, “we were only going for a spree, and intended being off again in the mornin’.”

Dan Hoolan sat sulkily, with his hands between his knees, not deigning to reply.

“You’ll find that you’ll have to pay somewhat heavily for your spree,” remarked the lieutenant.

“Seeing as we’ve not had it,” I heard Tim mutter.

By the time we had got back to the boat she had almost disappeared, and we could only pick up a few of the remaining articles she had contained.

A sharp look-out was kept on the two men, who had evidently intended to desert. No further words were exchanged with them. Both sat with downcast looks, probably well aware of the punishment they had brought on themselves.

On reaching the ship they were handcuffed, and placed under charge of a sentry. Tom and I had to keep our watch, and got but little sleep that night.

As soon as we could we presented our note to Mr Saunders.

“Why, you lads are always wanting to go on shore,” he observed dryly; “one would suppose you were born on shore. However, as you conduct yourselves well, you may have the leave your friend asks for, and may return by the first boat to Kingston.”

“Thank you, sir,” we answered, highly delighted. “And may Sinnet and Chaffey go too?” I asked.

“Were they invited?” he inquired.

“We were desired to bring two more of our mess, and we thought that they could be best spared, sir.”

“Yes, they may go,” said Mr Saunders.

Without delay we conveyed the pleasant intelligence to them. Before long we were again pulling up the harbour, and thus escaped seeing the punishment inflicted on my unfortunate countrymen. I knew that they deserved it, and therefore didn’t trouble my head much about the matter. We repaired at once to Mammy Custard’s, and had not been there long before Mr Talboys made his appearance.

“Glad you have got leave, my young friends,” he said, shaking us all by the hands, as we introduced Sinnet and Chaffey. “The carriages will soon be at the door; but you must take some refreshment before we start, to fortify the inner man for the fatigues of the journey.”

Having told Mammy Custard to place luncheon on the table, and desired us to commence operations without waiting for him, he went out, and left us to discuss the viands and refreshing beverages.

We had just finished when Mr Talboys returned, with his daughter, in one buggy, into which he invited me to mount, while he told Tom, Sinnet, and Chaffey to get into the other, which was driven by a black boy. As soon as we had taken our seats, the carriages dashed off, and away we went in a fine style out of Kingston. I’m no hand at describing scenery, nor can I remember the names of the tropical trees which grew in rich profusion on both sides of the road, the climbing plants, the gaily-coloured flowers, and other vegetable wonders. Miss Lucy and I chatted away right merrily. I couldn’t help thinking how jealous Tom would be, and I would very gladly for his sake have changed places with him.

“And what do you think of Jamaica?” asked her papa after we had gone some distance.

“It’s a wonderfully fine country, sir,” I answered. “And if it were not that I love Ballinahone more than any other place on earth, I shouldn’t be sorry to take up my abode here when I become a post-captain or an admiral, and wish to settle down for life, should peace be established, and my country not be requiring my services.”

“We have our little drawbacks, however,” observed Mr Talboys. “You have not been here in the hot season yet. We now and then have an outbreak of the blacks, for the rascals—strange to say—are not contented with their lot. Occasionally too, we are attacked by foreign foes, but we Jamaica men are right loyal, and are prepared to defend our shores against all comers.”

“I thought that the blacks were merry peaceable fellows, who never think of rebellion,” I observed.

“Nor would they, if they were not put up to it by designing knaves. But in different parts of the island we have had half a dozen outbreaks within my recollection, and not a few before it. Some have been instigated by the enemies of our country; others by newly imported slaves, who have been chiefs, or kings, as they call themselves, in Africa; and on some occasions the Maroons have taken it into their foolish heads to rebel. They are, as you’re doubtless aware, free blacks, who live an independent vagabond life on the mountains, and are too ignorant and savage to know that they have no chance of success.”

“But I hope, sir, that they’re quiet now, or it can’t be very pleasant for you to live so far away from the city.”

Mr Talboys laughed. “My negroes are quiet and obedient, and I should get information in good time were anything likely to happen,” he answered.

“No one would think of attacking our house,” put in Miss Lucy. “We are well prepared, and they would gain nothing by the attempt.”

We drove on through fine and wild romantic scenery, each turn of the road bringing us to some new point of view. We passed a beautiful waterfall, the bottom and sides of which appeared as if composed of glass or porcelain; it consisted of a number of steps rising up the sides of the hill. These, my friend told me, were incrustations which had formed themselves over the roots of trees growing on either side. The water came flowing down over them, transparent as crystal, and as the rays of sunlight played between the waving branches of the trees, the water glittered with a thousand variegated tints. We descended from our carriages to enjoy a more perfect view. Tom and Charley took it into their heads to attempt walking across some of the steps. Tom ran lightly over them; but Chaffey, while following in his wake, being twice as heavy, broke through the incrustation, and in he soused. He quickly managed, however, to scramble out again, though not until he was wet through nearly up to his middle.

“Why, I thought it was all hard stone,” he exclaimed as he reached dry ground.

We all had a hearty laugh at his expense. In that climate a ducking doesn’t much matter, and he was dry again before we had proceeded much further on our journey.

Late in the evening we caught sight of a long low building, with a broad verandah, surrounded with plantations, and a garden of fruit-trees on the gentle slope of a hill. As we got near, a shout from the master brought out several black boys, accompanied by a number of barking dogs, who welcomed us by leaping round the horses’ heads, and yelping and frisking about with delight.

Mr Talboys jumped out, and Lucy leapt into his arms, while I descended on the other side. A stout lady in a sky-blue dress, accompanied by three small damsels in low white frocks, and a little boy in scanty clothing, appeared at the top of the steps. Lucy, running up, kissed them all round, and then Mr Talboys introduced us in due form to his wife and younger daughters.

After a little conversation Madam Talboys led us into a handsome hall, with a table in the centre, on which ample preparations for supper were spread, the light from a dozen wax candles falling on the cut glass, the silver forks and glittering steel, and an épergne filled with fragrant flowers, surrounded by dishes containing salads, fruits of every description, and other cold viands.

“The young gentlemen would like to wash their hands before they commence operations,” said Mr Talboys; and he ushered us into a room off the great hall, in which were four snow-white beds, with muslin curtains closely drawn round them, and wash-hand basins filled with deliciously cool water.

We lost no time in plunging our faces into them, arranging our hair, and making ourselves neat and comfortable.

“I say, we have fallen into pleasant quarters,” exclaimed Chaffey. “We owe it all to you, Tom. If you hadn’t paid attention to Miss Lucy, we should not have been here.”

“Belay the slack of that,” cried Tom. “Our host might overhear you, and he wouldn’t be pleased; nor would Miss Lucy herself.”

We were quickly ready; and just as we returned to the hall several black boys entered, each carrying a steaming dish, on which we fell to, when helped, with keen appetites. Two other gentlemen came in,—an overseer and a head clerk on the estate. We all laughed and talked at a great rate. The overseer, Mr Rabbitts, at the request of our host, sang a good song. The clerk followed with another. Then Miss Lucy got her guitar, and warbled very sweetly. Altogether we were merry as crickets.

At length our host remarked that we must be tired, and led us to our sleeping-room. We soon had our heads upon the pillows, with the mosquito curtains drawn close around us.

Though midshipmen are rightly supposed to sleep soundly, I was awakened by fancying that the doctor was running his lancet into me, and was about to assure him that he was operating by mistake on me instead of on some other patient, when I heard a loud whizzing, buzzing sound. I hadn’t been careful enough in closing the curtains, and a big mosquito had got in, and was revelling in my fresh blood. I tried in vain to catch the active creature, who was soon joined by others of his abominable race. The humming concert was increased by countless other sounds, which came through the open window,—the croaking of frogs and tree-toads, the chirping and whistling of insects and reptiles, while I could see a party of fireflies glistening among the curtains of the bed. Now and then a huge beetle would make its way into the room, and go buzzing about round and round, till to my infinite relief it darted out of the window! But the noises and the stings of the mosquitoes drove sleep from my eyelids. Presently I heard some one talking outside; it was a nigger’s voice, deep and husky.

“If de picaroons cum, den dey cum soon, and cut all our troats.”

“Garramarcy, you don’t say so!” exclaimed another. “Better tell massa; he know what do.”

“Me tink better run away and hide,” said the first speaker. “Massa want to stop and fight, and den we hab to fight too, and get killed.”

“But if we run away and don’t tell massa, he get killed, and Missy Lucy, and missus, and de piccaninnies. Me tink tell massa fust and den run away.”

“But if um tell massa, he make um stop and fight. No, no, Cato; you one fool. Wiser to run away, and not say where um go.”

The arguments of the first speaker appeared to prevail with his companion. They probably were not aware that any one was sleeping in the room overhead.

As far as I could judge, the matter appeared serious. I recollected the conversation I had had in the morning about the Maroons and the rebel blacks.

Without further thought I jumped from my bed, and rushing to the window, sang out, “Stop, you cowardly rascals. If you move I’ll fire at you. Tell your master what you have heard, and he’ll act as he considers necessary.”

The sound of my voice awakened my companions, who fancied that the house was attacked by thieves.

As the blacks, notwithstanding my threats, seemed inclined to be off, I jumped out of the window, which was of no great height from the ground, followed by Sinnet and Tom. The niggers fancied, I believe, that we were spirits of another world, as we appeared in our night-shirts, which were fluttering in the breeze, and came back trembling and humble enough. We made them show us the window of Mr Talboys’ room, as we could not get into the house. Shouting loudly, we awoke him, and I then told him what I had heard.

“You have acted judiciously, young gentleman, whether there is anything in it or not; but I’ll be dressed directly, and come out to hear what account the black boys have to give. Take care they don’t run off in the meantime.”

Presently I heard a bolt withdraw; the door opened, and Mr Talboys made his appearance, a red night-cap on his head and wrapped in a flowered dressing-gown, a candle in one hand, and a thick whip in the other.

“I must examine these fellows,” he said as he came out. “They’re less liable to prevaricate if they see the whip. Come, now, young gentlemen, you may wish to put on your garments, and while you do so I’ll hear what my negroes have to say.”

As he was speaking, however, Chaffey came out of our room, bringing our breeches, having first got into his own, lest, as he said, the ladies might inconveniently make their appearance.

“What’s this you were talking about, Cato?” asked Mr Talboys, looking sternly at the blacks, who stood trembling before him.

“Caesar cum just now, and say dat Cudjoe, with great number ob niggers, just come down from de mountains, and dey march dis way with muskets, and bayonets, and big swords, and spears, and swear dey kill all de whites dey cum across.”

I saw Mr Talboys start.

“How did you hear this, Caesar?” he asked.

“Please, massa, I out last night, to help bury Mammy Quacca, who die in de morning, when my brother Sambo cum in and say he almost caught by Cudjoe’s fellows, and hear dem swear dat dey cum to kill all de white people, and before long he tink dey cum dis way to Belmont.” (That was the name of Mr Talboys’ place.)

“Cudjoe! Who are you talking about? The fellow has been dead these thirty years or more,” said our host.

“Dey say him Cudjoe. Perhaps him come to life again,” answered Caesar, as if he fully believed such an event probable. “Or maybe him ‘Tree Fingered Jack.’”

“Three Fingered Jack” was a negro leader who about that time made himself notorious.

“Possibly some fellow has assumed the name of the old Maroon leader,” I observed.

Mr Talboys, after further questioning the blacks, again turned to us, and remarked, “I’m afraid there’s some truth in what these negroes say. At all events, it would be wise to be prepared.” He spoke in a cool tone, not a bit flustered.

“I’m very sorry to have brought you into a position which may not prove to be very agreeable,” he continued; “but I know, young gentlemen, that I can rely on your assistance.”

Of course we could give but one answer.

“The first thing to be done is to barricade the house, and I’ll get you to do that, with Caesar to assist you,” he said. “Keep an eye on the boy, lest he should run away, while I send off Cato to give notice to my neighbours, who will probably assemble here, as this house can be more easily defended than theirs. I will myself summon my overseer and clerks. I, of course, shall also despatch messengers to Kingston for assistance, and we may hope to hold out till the troops arrive. The rebels expect to take us by surprise, and to murder us without resistance, as they have the whites in other districts. I must, however, tell my wife and daughters, or they may be alarmed should they suddenly discover what is going on.”

We heard a good deal of talking in Mrs Talboys’ room, and then the master of the house came out, with a brace of pistols in his belt, and a sword in his hand.

“The ladies are quite prepared, and will give you all the help they can,” he said. “They’ll show you where the arms and ammunition are kept.”

Having finished dressing, we set to work, under Caesar’s directions, to put up shutters, and to strengthen the doors with planks and stout pieces of timber, which we found in a yard, apparently prepared for the purpose. We were soon joined by Mrs Talboys and Miss Lucy, who both appeared equal to the emergency. Having shown us where the arms and ammunition were kept, they assisted to carry planks and to hold the boards up while we nailed them on. Miss Lucy had a hearty laugh at the grimaces made by Chaffey when he happened to hit his finger instead of the nail he was driving in. We worked away as busily as bees, and before Mr Talboys returned had already secured most of the doors and the lower windows. They were all loopholed, so that on whatever side our enemies might assault the house, a warm reception would be given them. We were still working away when Mr Talboys appeared.

“Our friends will soon be here,” he said. “We shall muster nearly a dozen muskets, and I hope that with them we may be able to keep the rebels at bay; though, if they’re disposed for mischief, they may ravage our plantations with impunity.”

The overseer and clerks, each armed to the teeth, soon afterwards came in, and our preparations for defence went on still more rapidly. It was now midnight, but as yet none of the neighbours had arrived; and we formed but a small garrison to defend so small a building from the host of foes who might attack it.

“Me go out and see whether niggers come?” said Caesar.

“No, no; you stay in the house, and help fight,” answered his master, who hadn’t forgot the black’s purpose of running away and leaving us to our fate.

“Cato, you go out towards Silver Springs, and learn, if you can, the whereabouts of the rebels. Call at Edghill on your way, and tell Mr Marchant and his family to hurry on here, and that we’ll do our best to protect them.”

“Yes, massa,” answered Cato, who, for a black, was a man of few words, and was evidently a trustworthy fellow.

Caesar looked somewhat disappointed. I suspect that if he had found the rebels approaching, we should not have seen his face again. We were kept fully employed improving the fortifications. Mr Talboys, who was full of resources, devised three platforms, which were run from the upper windows above the doorway, with holes in them through which hot water or stones, or other missiles, could be dropped on the heads of the assailants. We had also means of access to the roof, so that if it were set on fire, we might extinguish the flames.

Still the enemy didn’t appear, nor did Cato return to bring us information. Had we been idle, the suspense might have been more trying; but as we were actively engaged, we scarcely thought of what might possibly happen. At last Cato’s voice was heard shouting—

“Massa Marchant and de piccaninnies come, but de rebels cum too, and dis nigger not know which get in first.”

“We must go and help our friends then. Who’ll accompany me?” asked Mr Talboys.

“I will, sir,” said I.

“And I,” said Tom Pim. And our other two messmates said the same.

The overseer seemed inclined to stop and defend the house. We immediately set out, Mr Talboys leading the way, and we keeping close to him. The night was dark, and we might easily have missed our road. After going some distance he stopped for a moment to listen. There came through the night air the tramp of feet, and the hum of voices, though apparently a long way off.

“What can have become of Marchant?” exclaimed Mr Talboys, after we had gone some way further.

“Here I am,” said a person who stepped out into the middle of the road with a child in his arms. “My wife was tired, and our children declared they could go no further without resting, and except our two nurse girls, all the slaves have run away.”

“They might have rested too long,” said Mr Talboys. “Come, Mrs Marchant, I’ll help you; and these young gentlemen will assist the children.”

We discovered the family group seated on a bank; and each of us taking charge of one of the children, we followed Mr Talboys back towards Belmont as fast as our legs could move. He strode along at a great rate, for the sounds, which before had been indistinct, now grew louder and louder, and we knew that the enemy could not be far off. That they were marching towards Belmont there could be no doubt. Mrs Marchant gave a shriek of alarm every now and then, and the children cried with terror. We tried to soothe them, but it was no easy matter to do so as we ran along.

“Try and keep the children quiet,” said Mr Talboys in a suppressed tone, “or the blacks will hear us. Push on, young gentlemen; I’ll bring up the rear and defend you.”

“I’ll stay with you,” I said; for it struck me that Chaffey might easily carry the child I had charge of, and so I handed it to him.

“And I’ll stay also,” said Tom, giving his charge to Sinnet, who, with one of the black girls, was dragging another along. Mr Marchant had enough to do to support his wife and carry another of their progeny. The house was already in sight, but we could hear the tramp of the insurgents’ feet coming nearer and nearer, though we could not tell whether we ourselves were yet seen. Mr Marchant and his family hurried on, probably sorry that they had not made more speed at first. We had our pistols ready, a brace each, in our belts, and our swords by our sides, should we come to a close encounter; but the blacks had, we concluded, firearms, and might shoot us down, should they see us, at a distance. I could not but admire the cool gallantry of Mr Talboys, with so much at stake, yet willing to risk his own life in the defence of those he had promised to protect. He stood for nearly a minute to enable his friend’s family to get ahead. The ground rose gradually towards the house, and we could now distinguish a dark mass coming across the open space in the plain below.

“Now we’ll move on,” said Mr Talboys; and we proceeded deliberately towards the house.

“They must have got in now,” he added shortly afterwards, speaking as before in a suppressed tone.

It was time indeed for us to be hurrying on, for as we looked round, a party of blacks, forming the advance guard, and whom we had not previously seen, suddenly appeared, not fifty paces off. They saw us at the same time, and with loud yells came rushing up the slope.

“On, lads, as fast as your legs can carry you,” cried Mr Talboys, and, facing round, he fired his musket into the middle of them. Whether any one fell we did not stop to see, but ran towards the house. The blacks followed, hoping to overtake us, and fortunately not stopping to fire. Mr Marchant and his family were only just then entering the house. They had got safe in, and we were about to follow when a shower of bullets came whistling round our heads and rattling against the walls. We sprang in, Mr Talboys following. No time was lost in closing the door and putting up the barricades. We had scarcely finished when a second volley was fired, showing that the rebels were in earnest, and meant, if they could do so, to destroy the inmates of the house. Still, finding that we had escaped them, instead of dashing on, they kept at a respectful distance, under such cover as the hedges and palings afforded them. As the bullets pinged against the shutters and walls the children began to cry, and Mrs Marchant and her black damsels to shriek out. Mrs Talboys and Lucy remained perfectly quiet, doing their best to calm the fears of their guests.

“We have a strong house and brave defenders, and we need not be afraid of the rebels,” said the former in a quiet tone.

Meantime Mr Talboys, leaving us to defend the lower storey, mounted to the top of the house, where, keeping under shelter, he could take a look-out at whatever was going on below.

Presently we heard him shout, “Who are you, and what is it you want?”

“We free and independent people,” answered a voice from the crowd; “we want our rights. We no get dem, den we kill all de whites.”

“Much obliged for your kind intentions,” answered Mr Talboys. “There are two sides to that question, and you must look out not to be killed yourselves, which you will be, I promise you, if you attack us.”

“We see about dat,” one of the blacks shouted out.

Mr Talboys replied, and made what sounded to me so long a speech that I wondered the insurgents had patience to listen to it, till I discovered that his object was to prevent them as long as possible from recommencing hostilities. Like other brave men, being unwilling to shed blood, he would not allow any of us to fire until it should become absolutely necessary. He again asked the rebels what they wanted.

“We want our rights, dat’s what we want,” they shouted.

“That’s what all your friends in the island wish you to have, but you won’t get them by murdering the few white people in your power,” answered our host.

“Dat you say is true, Massa Talboys,” cried a black from the crowd.

“Hold your tongue, Quembo; take dat!” and the sound of a crushing blow, accompanied by a shriek, reached our ears, as if the last speaker had brained his wiser comrade.

“We no cum here to talk, we cum to fight,” shouted several together. There was a good deal of jabbering, and once more I saw, through a loophole out of which I was looking, the sable army approaching.

“Stand to your arms!” cried Mr Talboys. “We mustn’t let these fellows get too confident. Shade all the lights, but don’t fire until I give the word.”

It was pretty evident, from the bold way the blacks came on, that they supposed we were badly supplied with firearms, one shot only having been discharged. Mr Talboys waited till they got within thirty paces, when, just as two or three of them had hurriedly discharged their pieces, he gave us the order to fire, and we sent a shower of bullets among the sable mass. Without stopping to see what effect it had produced we all reloaded as rapidly as possible. A few bullets rattled against the house, but before we again fired the greater number of our assailants were scrambling off, in spite of the efforts of their leader to induce them to make a stand. As far as I could judge, looking through my loophole, none were killed, though several must have been wounded.

Chapter Eleven.

A narrow escape.

The overseer proposed dashing out, with a whip in one hand and a sword in the other.

“The rascals won’t stop running if they see us coming after them,” he said.

Mr Talboys, however, wisely ordered all of us to remain inside the walls.

“There are brave fellows among them, notwithstanding the cowardice of some, and they are very likely to turn round and cut us to pieces,” he observed.

This would certainly have been the case, for we heard the blacks shouting and shrieking at no great distance off, though beyond the range of our muskets. They had evidently halted.

“We must be ready for another attack, my friends,” cried Mr Talboys. “Keep at your posts.”

Miss Lucy came up to where Tom and I were standing.

“We’re so much obliged to you,” she said. “If those dreadful blacks had got in, we knew that we should all be killed. You have defended us bravely, and we’re so glad that no one has been hurt.”

“When we think that we have you to defend, we’ll fight as long as we have a charge of powder and a ball remaining, and after that, too, for we should make good use of our swords, depend on it,” answered Tom gallantly.

After this the blacks were quiet for some time, but we could not judge whether they intended again to come on. Mr Talboys assured us that they were still in the neighbourhood, and that we must be prepared at any moment for an attack. The time went slowly by. I heard Caesar and Cato talking; and as the danger appeared to lessen, the courage of the former increased.

“Dem niggers, how dey did run when we fired at dem! great cowards! Just dey cum on again, and see how we pepper der legs,” said Caesar.

“Better dey not cum,” observed Cato, like a true philosopher, probably doubting his companion’s resolution.

As there was no necessity to keep at our posts, I went up and asked Mr Talboys if he would allow me to take his place, while he joined the ladies.

“Thank you,” he said; “I was intending to summon you, for I wish to take a look round our fortifications, to be sure that we have no weak points, for I strongly suspect we have not done with those fellows yet.”

He was just about to descend, when I caught sight of a bright light away to the northward.

“What is that?” I asked, pointing it out to him.

“It comes from the direction of Marchant’s house,” he answered. “I very much fear the rebels have set fire to it. Yes, there is no doubt about it,” he added, as forked flames were observed to burst up round the first light, and to extend on either side. Presently another light was seen in the south-east.

“That must be from Peek’s estate. I hope they had warning, and made their escape in time, or the villains will have murdered them, to a certainty. Fortunately there are no women or children there.”

We stood watching the progress of the flames.

“We’ll not tell the Marchants of the disaster,” he continued. “It might drive them out of their wits; but they may consider themselves fortunate in having escaped with their lives.”

Loud shouts rising from the spot where we supposed the blacks to be showed the pleasure they felt at seeing the houses burning.

“They would be still more delighted could they destroy Belmont,” observed Mr Talboys. “They will, I fear, soon again attempt to carry out their design.”

He now begged me to remain where I was, and to give him immediate information, should I observe anything suspicious, and went down to carry out his intention of examining every assailable point in the house. I kept, my eyes turned, first to one side, then to the other, peering into the darkness, when I observed something moving, away to the right. It seemed like a black line; and after watching it for a few seconds, I felt sure that it was formed by a number of negroes creeping cautiously on to the right of the house, and endeavouring to conceal themselves. I was afraid that my voice might be heard should I shout out, so I went down the steps and soon found Mr Talboys. The moment I told him what I had seen, he sprang up with me, but we could see nothing, though we watched for some minutes.

“If they were really blacks you saw, they intend to take us by surprise,” he said. “We must keep a look-out, and be prepared for them.”

Just as he was speaking, there came a loud crashing sound, and the next instant cries and shouts rang through the house. Mr Talboys sprang down the steps, and I followed him. There was no difficulty in ascertaining in what direction to go. A door had evidently been burst open in the southern wing of the house. A piercing shriek was heard as we hurried on. The rest of the party, deserting their posts, had already gone to drive back our assailants. The overseer and clerk, Sinnet and Chaffey, were encountering them bravely. Two had already paid dearly for their temerity, when Mr Talboys, springing forward, attacked them furiously. I kept with him, and did my best with my hanger, cutting and slashing at the woolly pates of the fellows, who evidently were not prepared for so determined a resistance. Those in front gave way, and others who were about to enter hesitated to advance. Mrs Talboys was rendering us good service by holding up a lantern, by which we could see our assailants, while the light, falling on their eyes, prevented them from seeing us. Though I observed my other two messmates, I could nowhere see Tom Pim. What could have become of him? I thought. I was, however, sure that he would not have held back, for though he was but a little fellow, he knew how to use his hanger as well as any of us. The fight didn’t last long; another black was killed, two lay wounded on the ground, and the rest bolted out of the door, which, though shattered, was not off its hinges.

“Quick! Bring some planks,” cried Mr Talboys.

There were some near at hand, with which we had intended to secure that particular door. We were not long in putting them up, and placing a heavy chest of drawers against them. Just as this was done, Mrs Talboys exclaimed—

“Where is Lucy?”

“And where is Tom Pim?” I cried out.

Neither of them answered. Before any search could be made, Mr Marchant, who had been watching at the other side of the house, shouted out—

“The enemy are upon us I the enemy are upon us! Quick! quick!”

We hurried to our posts, and before many seconds had elapsed, a shower of bullets came rattling against the walls.

“Fire away, my friends,” cried Mr Talboys.

We obeyed the order with alacrity. I was thinking all the time, however, as to what could have become of Tom and Lucy. In vain I expected my messmate to hasten to his post. Again the blacks were checked. Had they been a minute sooner, the case would have been very different. They calculated, of course, on their friends getting in at the back of the house, and causing a diversion in their favour. For twenty minutes or more we kept loading and firing as fast as we could. Mr Talboys was everywhere, now at one window, now at another, while the clerk and Cato were guarding the back and wings of the house. How the hours had passed by I could not tell, when at length I saw a faint light in the eastern sky. It gradually increased in brightness, and in a wonderfully short time daylight burst upon the world. As the blacks had failed to get into the house during the night, it was less likely that they would succeed during the day. They fired a parting volley, and then, to our great satisfaction, beat a rapid retreat. The search for Lucy and Tom was now renewed.

“Oh, my dear husband, what can have become of her?” cried Mrs Talboy in accents of despair.

That they were not in the house was very certain. I proposed to sally forth and search for them.

“I’ll go myself,” said Mr Talboys. “The rebels will be on the look-out, and you very probably will be captured if you go alone.”

He consented, however, to my accompanying him. We went out at the back door, which Mr Talboys ordered to be closed after us. We had not gone far when we discovered a ribbon, which I knew Miss Lucy had worn on her shoulder.

“She must have been carried off by the blacks when they first burst into the house,” cried Mr Talboys.

“The wretches cannot have had the barbarity to injure her,” I said.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” answered her father in an agonised tone of voice.

We followed the track of the blacks, which was distinctly marked by the plants and canes being trampled down where they had gone across the garden and plantation, and continued on for some distance. No other trace of Tom or Lucy could we discover. We had to proceed cautiously, as at any time we might come suddenly upon a party of them, when we might find it very difficult to escape. We were, however, both well-armed, with muskets in our hands, braces of pistols in our belts, and swords by our sides, so that we hoped, should we fall in with any enemies, to keep them at bay while we retreated. We looked round on either side, in the expectation of seeing something else that either Lucy or Tom might have dropped; but sometimes I could not help fearing that they might have been killed, and that we should come upon their dead bodies. Still I tried to put away the thought from me, as it was too dreadful I suspect the same idea occurred to

Mr Talboys, who looked stern and determined, and seldom spoke, while his eye was ranging round, far and near. We were going in the direction we fancied the blacks had taken. Mr Talboys was of opinion that, finding they could not succeed in destroying Belmont, they had gone off to attack some other house and ravage the plantations. We were making our way across the country instead of along the high road, where the blacks might have discovered us at a distance; but sometimes the foliage was so thick that we could not see a dozen yards ahead. This had its advantages and its disadvantages. It was evidently the line which the party of blacks who had nearly surprised us had followed. Now and then we got close to the high road, and we were able, while still keeping under shelter ourselves, to look along it either way.

“The rebels have not, I suspect, gone off altogether, and we may not be far from them now,” whispered Mr Talboys. “Be very cautious; keep under cover as much as you can, and avoid making any rustling among the branches.”

We had moved on scarcely a dozen paces after this, when suddenly a number of black heads appeared above the bushes close in front of us. The white eyes of the negroes, as they caught sight of us, showed that they were more astonished than we were at the sudden encounter. Exclamations of surprise escaped from their lips.

“On, lads,” shouted Mr Talboys at the top of his voice, as, drawing his sword, he sprang forward. “Send those rascals to the right about.”

Uttering a shout, I imitated his example.

The blacks, evidently supposing that a strong body of whites was upon them, turned, and endeavoured to make their way through the brushwood, without looking back to see who was pursuing them. As they had no other encumbrances than their muskets, they soon distanced us. Not one of them fell, for Mr Talboys refrained from firing, as did I, waiting until he told me to do so.

“Now, my young friend, it will be well to beat a retreat before these rascals discover that we are alone,” he said.

We were about to do as he proposed, when, unfortunately, one of the blacks, who was nearer to us than the rest, looked round, and seeing no one besides us, shouted to his companions. Now one stopped, now another, till the whole party came to a stand-still, turned round, and faced us.

“Spring back and try to get under cover,” said Mr Talboys in a low voice. “If the fellows advance, fire; but not till then. I’ll speak to them.” He then shouted, “You have carried off two young people from my house. Give them up at once unhurt, and we will not punish you as you deserve; but if they’re injured, not one of you shall escape hanging.”

“We not got de young white folks here,” sang out a voice from among the negroes. “You talk ob hanging, massa; take care we not hang you. What we stop here for?” continued the speaker to his companions; “dere not many dere, or dey cum on.”

From the way the blacks were looking, I guessed that they were trying to discover how many persons were opposed to them; but as yet they fancied that there were others behind us.

“Do you quietly retreat, my young friend,” said Mr Talboys in a low voice. “Make your way back to the house as fast as you can, and tell them to be on their guard. I can manage these fellows as well alone, and your life would be needlessly risked by remaining.”

“I will do as you wish, sir; but if there’s to be fighting, I should prefer to stay by you,” I answered.

“I’ll try to avoid it, then,” said my friend, and once more he spoke to the blacks.

“If the young folks are not with you, tell me where they are.”

“We know nothin’,” answered the black. “Maybe by dis time dey hang from de branch ob one tree.”

“I don’t believe that any of you would have had the cruelty to kill them,” he cried out. “Do as I wish you,” he continued, in a low voice, to me.

Still I could not bring myself, for the sake of saving my own life, to leave him to be taken by the blacks; for it seemed to me that he would have but a small chance of escaping from them. I was hesitating, when I heard a shout from beyond where they were standing, and presently a number more rushed up, who by their furious gestures, as soon as they saw us, seemed to threaten our immediate destruction.

“I’ll kill the first who comes on,” cried Mr Talboys.

They answered with derisive cries, and several of them levelled their muskets. Mr Talboys and I kept ours pointed at them, sheltering ourselves as we could behind the trunks of two trees which stood close together.

Our chance of escaping appeared very small.

While we thus kept the blacks in check, a sound in the rear struck my ears. It was the tramp of many feet. It became louder and louder. The blacks, jabbering away as they were to each other, did not apparently hear it. Mr Talboys did, however, and he knew that it was more important than ever to refrain from firing. He again shouted to them—

“Do any of you who have just come know where my daughter and young friend are gone to?”

They didn’t reply, but we heard them talking to one another. This further put off the time. The sound of tramping feet grew louder.

“You make fool ob us, Massa Talboys,” at last said one of the blacks, who, probably from his understanding English, had been chosen as spokesman.

Gesticulating violently, the whole body now gave vent to loud shouts and cries, and dashed forward, with the intention of overwhelming us. We both fired, in the hopes of delaying their advance, and then sprang back to the shelter of some other trees we had noted behind us. The blacks, as they rushed on, fired, but their bullets passed high above our heads, stripping off the bark and branches, which came rattling down upon us.

We had but a small chance of again escaping, should we attempt the same proceeding; but, as the blacks were within twenty paces of us, a party of redcoats dashed through the brushwood, one of their leaders being a small naval officer whom, to my joy, I recognised as Tom Pim. The blacks saw the soldiers, and, without waiting to encounter the sharp points of their bayonets, turned, and scampered off as fast as they could manage to get through the bushes, the speed of most of them being increased by the bullets poured in on them, while several bit the ground.

The soldiers continued the pursuit till the blacks, scattering in all directions, got out of range of their muskets. Mr Talboys and I accompanied them; but not till the halt was called had we an opportunity of speaking to Tom.

“And where is Lucy, my dear fellow?” asked Mr Talboys, grasping Tom by the hand.

“All right, sir,” answered Tom. “She’s safe in the house. When the blacks broke in last night, she was close to the door, and a piece of wood striking her, she fell to the ground. The blacks, rushing in, seized her before I was able to lift her up, and while I was shouting out for assistance, and trying to defend her, they got hold of me, and carried us both off. It was only a short time ago that I knew you were safe; for I was dreadfully afraid that they had got into the house, and murdered you all. Fortunately, the blacks allowed Miss Lucy and me to remain together; so I told her to keep up her spirits, and that I would try and help her to run away. Most of the blacks who at first had charge of us hurried back, expecting to pillage the house, and only two remained. We heard the shots you fired, but I still did not know that you had driven them out. Meantime our two black guards were so occupied in trying to find out what was going on, that I took the opportunity of drawing my hanger, which had not been taken from me, and giving one a slash across the eyes, and another a blow which nearly cut off his arm. I seized Miss Lucy’s hand, and we ran off as fast as we could. Neither of our guards were in a condition to follow us, and we ran and ran, scarcely knowing in what direction we were going. Miss Lucy said that she thought we were on the high road to Kingston; but she became at last so tired that she could go no further, and we had to rest. It soon became daylight; and just as we were going on again, we met with the soldiers, who were being brought up by Captain Ryan to your assistance.”

“You behaved most bravely, and I am deeply indebted to you, my young friend,” said Mr Talboys, grasping Tom’s hand. “Had you not offered so determined a resistance, I believe that the blacks would have got into the house, and we should all have been destroyed.”

As the men had had a long and rapid march, their commander was glad to accept Mr Talboys’ invitation to return at once to Belmont, to partake of the refreshments they so much needed.

Miss Lucy on our arrival rushed into her father’s arms, and was warm in her praises of the gallant way in which Tom had rescued her.

Everybody was engaged either in cooking or carrying provisions to the soldiers, who had assembled under the shade of the trees in front of the house. Sentries were of course placed, to give due notice should the blacks rally and attempt another attack, though Mr Talboys considered it very improbable that such would be made.

As our leave was to expire the day after these events took place, having enjoyed a sound sleep, early in the morning we started in the carriages that had brought us, Cato driving Tom and me. We were glad to think that our kind friends were well protected, as Captain Ryan said that his orders were to remain there until reinforcements arrived.

I won’t describe our parting, or what Tom said to Miss Lucy; if not affecting, it was cordial.

On our way we met more troops moving towards Belmont. We got back to Kingston, and thence on board the frigate, within the time Mr Saunders had given us leave to be absent.

The account of our adventures created great interest on board. When I told Larry of our narrow escape with Mr Talboys—

“Thin, Maisther Terence dear, don’t be after going on shore again without me,” he exclaimed. “If you had been killed I’d never have lifted up my head, nor shown my face at Ballinahone again; for they would be saying that I ought to have been by your side, and died with you if I could not save you.”

I promised Larry not to go anywhere, if I could help it, without him. We expected soon to have sailed, but we were detained by Sir Peter Parker, then the admiral at Jamaica. There were also several other frigates and three line-of-battle ships in the harbour. Tom and I especially wanted to be off, as we could not expect to obtain leave again to go on shore, though we determined if the ship was detained to ask for it.

“Not much chance of that,” observed Nettleship, who had just come from the shore. “The people are expecting an attack from the French and Spaniards, who have large fleets out here under the Count De Grasse, and the Governor has just got a letter, it is said, taken on board a prize, in which the whole plan for the capture of the island is detailed. The inhabitants are everywhere up in arms, and vow that they will fight to the last sooner than yield. More troops are expected, and every preparation is being made for the defence of the island.”

We had seen the Triton frigate go out that morning, though we were not aware of her destination. She carried despatches from Sir Peter Parker, giving Lord Howe the information which had been received, and requesting that reinforcements might immediately be sent to the island. The people on shore were actively engaged in strengthening Fort George, Fort Augusta, and the Apostles’ Battery, and throwing up new forts in various directions. While the blacks were labouring at the fortifications, all the white men were being drilled to serve in the militia, which was numerous and enthusiastic; so we hoped that even should the French and Spaniards land, they would be soundly thrashed.

Some days passed before we received any news of our friends at Belmont. No leave was granted, as the captain could not tell at what moment we should be ordered to sea. Tom and I were therefore unable to go to Kingston to make inquiries about them. At length a shore-boat came off with letters, and one, which I knew by the superscription to be from Mr Talboys, was handed to me. As I opened it, a small delicate note—addressed, Tom Pim, Esquire, H.M.S. Liffy—fell out. As Tom was standing close to me at the time, he eagerly snatched it up. I was right in my surmises with regard to my letter. Mr Talboys having again expressed his thanks for the services my messmates and I had rendered him, after saying that his family were all well, went on to inform me that the outbreak of the blacks had been quickly suppressed, the ringleaders having been caught and hanged. Mr Marchant’s house and three others had alone been destroyed, and with the exception of an overseer and two clerks, the remainder of the inhabitants had managed to escape. “I hope,” he added, “that we shall see you and your messmates again, and I shall be especially pleased to welcome that brave young fellow who so gallantly rescued my daughter.”

“What does your letter say, Tom?” I asked, when I had finished mine.

“Well, I shouldn’t like to show it to any one else,” he said; “but as you know how I regard Miss Lucy, I will to you. I can’t say that I am quite satisfied with it. It’s a little too patronising, as if she thought herself a great deal older than I am. You shall have it,” and he handed me the note.

“My dear Tom,”—it began,—“you are such a dear little fellow that I feel I must write to you to say how grateful I am to you for having saved me from those dreadful blacks. I should not have supposed that you would have been able to do it, but I shall never forget your bravery. I long to come back to Kingston, to see you again, and tell you so. But papa says that you are not likely to obtain leave, so I must wait patiently till we have beaten the French and Spaniards who threaten to invade our island, and peace is restored. I wish I could promise to do as you ask me, but mamma says I should be very foolish if I did. Do you know, I think so likewise; because it may be years and years before you are a commander, or even a lieutenant; but I want you to understand, notwithstanding, that I like you very much, and am very grateful, and shall always be so, as long as I live. So, my dear Tom, believe me, your sincere friend,—Lucy Talboys.”

“It’s very clear, Tom, that Miss Lucy will not commit herself, and it’s fortunate for you probably that she is so hardhearted,” I observed. “I’d advise you not to be downcast about the matter, and be content with the friendship and gratitude of her family.”

Tom, however, looked very melancholy, and some time afterwards Chaffey observed to me that he was sure something was amiss with Tom, as he was completely off his feed.

While we were allowed to go on shore our life was pleasant enough, but when confined on board it was somewhat dreary work, and we all longed for a change of some sort. A climate with the thermometer at ninety doesn’t conduce to high spirits.

We were aroused one evening as most of us were below, by Sinnet rushing into the berth, and exclaiming—

“The Glasgow is on fire, and the boats are ordered away to her assistance.”

The Glasgow was a frigate, lying at no great distance from us, and was to have sailed with the land breeze with a company of troops to the westward. We hurried on deck. Our boats were being lowered, as were those of the other ships in the harbour. Smoke in dense volumes was rising from the hatchways of the Glasgow, and more was pouring out of her ports. Her crew were at their stations, hauling up buckets of water, and labouring like brave men to quench the rising flames; but all their efforts, as far as I could see, were ineffectual. Nettleship and some of the older midshipmen went off in the boats.

“I hope that they’ll draw the charges of their guns, or we shall have some of their shot rattling on board us,” said Tom. “There are plenty of boats, so I don’t suppose any of the crew will be lost.”

“I should think not, unless the magazine catches fire,” I answered.

“They’ll drown that the first thing, if they can,” remarked Tom. “I wish we could have gone in one of the boats. I don’t like to see people in danger and be unable to try and help them.”

Chapter Twelve.

The hurricane.

In spite of all the exertions being made on board, with the assistance of the men from the other ships who had now arrived alongside, the smoke increased in denseness, and presently burst up above the hatchway, while we could see the red glare through the ports. The ship having been in the West Indies for some time, her woodwork was like tinder, and the flames rapidly gained the mastery. Now forked tongues of fire burst out from the midship ports, gradually working their way forward and aft. At length all attempts to save the ship were abandoned. The crew were seen descending into the boats, some collected forward, others under the quarter. Down they came by ladders and ropes, the midshipmen and the boys first, the men following, looking like strings of sausages surrounding the ship. Rapidly as every one moved, there was no confusion. As the boats were loaded they pulled off, others taking their places. So quickly had the fire spread that it seemed as if the officers had scarcely space left them to stand on before descending. Shouts were raised when the glitter of the gold lace on their coats was seen as they came over the quarter. The last man to quit was the brave captain of the ship. Almost in an instant afterwards she was in a fierce blaze fore and aft, the flames rushing out of the cabin windows as well as through the bow ports. We in the meantime had got springs on our cables, as had all the other ships, in case she should drift from her moorings.

“I suspect the shot were withdrawn,” I observed to Tom Pim.

“I hope so,” he answered; but just then—crash! there came a couple of round shot against our side, while more guns were heard going off in the opposite direction.

We immediately hauled away on one of our springs, just in time to escape several more iron missiles, which went bounding across the harbour. Three or four other ships were struck, but no one on board ours was hurt. Presently there came a loud roar, the mizen-mast shot up, followed by the after-part of the deck, and then came hissing down into the water. The flames surrounding the other masts formed a fiery pinnacle rising into the dark sky, and immediately afterwards down they came with loud crashes, the ship looking like a huge roaring and raging cauldron of flame, while crash succeeded crash as the heated guns fell into the hold. Several of the people brought on us were severely scorched, showing the desperate efforts they had made to try and save their ship. Dr McCall and the assistant-surgeons had work enough in attending to them. Fortunately the soldiers had not arrived alongside the Glasgow before she caught fire, and when they came down the harbour they were put on board our frigate, and we received orders to carry them to their destination.

Everything was done as rapidly as possible for their accommodation. The men were berthed on the main-deck. The captain received the commanding officer, the lieutenants messed in the gun-room, and we had the pleasure of entertaining the ensigns. The land breeze began blowing about eight o’clock, the time the Glasgow was to have sailed. We were detained some time in getting off provisions from the shore, but by dint of hard work all was ready by ten o’clock, and the night being bright, the anchor was hove up. With every sail that we could carry set, we glided out of the harbour. It was important to get a good offing, so that we might weather Portland Point, the southernmost part of the island, before the sea-breeze should again begin to blow. We hoped that the land breeze, which generally begins to drop about midnight, would last longer than usual, so as to carry us well out to sea. There are ugly rocks off Portland which it is not pleasant to have under the lee at any time.

“Shure it would be hard to bate these nights out here, Mr Terence,” said Larry, whom I met on deck, and who seemed to enjoy as much as I did the calm beauty of the scene, the stars like specks of glittering gold shining out of the heavens of the deepest blue, each one reflected in the tranquil ocean. The line of coast, seen astern and on our starboard quarter, rose into various-shaped mountains, their outlines clearly marked against the sky; while every now and then a mass of silver light was spread over the water, as some inhabitant of the deep leaped upwards, to fall again with a splash into its liquid home.

I asked Larry how Hoolan was going on after his flogging.

“He doesn’t talk much, Mr Terence, but he looks as sulky as ever, and I wouldn’t trust him more than before,” was the reply.

“He can harm no one, at all events,” I observed; “and I don’t think he has much chance of making his escape, even if he still thinks of attempting it.”

“Faith, I don’t fancy he could hide himself among the black fellows; and no merchant skipper would like to have him aboard his craft,” said Larry.

Going aft, I met Tom Pim, for he and I were in the first watch. We were pacing the deck together, when we were joined by one of our passengers, Ensign Duffy.

“Can’t sleep, my dear fellows,” he said in a melancholy tone, which made Tom and me laugh. “My thoughts are running on a charming little girl I met at Kingston. I was making prodigious way with her when we were ordered off to the out-of-the-way corner of the world to which you are carrying us, and the chances are we shall not meet again.”

“What’s her name, Duffy?” I asked.

“Lucy Talboys,” he answered promptly. “I don’t mind telling you young fellows, as you are not likely to prove rivals; but I say, if either of you meet her I wish you’d put in a word about me. Say how miserable I looked, and that you are sure I had left my heart at Kingston.”

“I will gladly say anything you wish; but perhaps she will think you left it with some other lady,” I observed.

“Say I was always sighing and uttering ‘Lucy! Lucy!’ in my sleep.”

“I’ll not say anything of the sort,” exclaimed Tom. “I never heard you utter her name till now, and I don’t believe she cares the snuff of a candle for you.”

Just as we were about to go below, at eight bells, we made out Portland Point broad on our starboard beam, so that we hoped, should the wind not fail us before morning, to be well to the westward of it. We were just turning into our hammocks, the other watch having been called, when we heard the canvas flap loudly against the masts, and were summoned on deck again to take in studding-sails. Still the land wind favoured us, the sails once more bulged out, and before we went below we had brought Portland Point on the quarter. When we went on deck again in the morning the frigate lay nearly becalmed off Carlisle Bay, thence we had a westerly course to Pedro Bluff. The sun, as it rose higher and higher in the cloudless sky, beat down hot and strong upon our heads, while officers and men, as they paced the deck, whistled perseveringly for a breeze. At length a dark blue line was seen extending in the south-east across the shining waters. It approached rapidly. Presently the canvas blew out, and with tacks on board we stood along the coast. Our speed increased with the rising breeze. We were not long in getting round Pedro Bluff, when we stood directly for Savannah-le-Mer, then a pretty flourishing little town at the south-west end of the island. Here we were to land some of the redcoats, and were to take the rest round to Montego Bay, at the north-west end of Jamaica. We came off it on the following morning.

As the harbour is intricate, we hove-to outside, while the soldiers were landed in the boats. I went in one, and Tom Pim in another, the second lieutenant having the command of the whole. We had a long and a hot pull, and Ensign Duffy, who was in my boat, declared that if it was proportionately hot on shore to what it was on the water, he should expect to be turned into baked meat before he had been there long. Larry was pulling bow-oar, and very well he pulled by this time, for though he was a perfect greenhorn when he came to sea, he had been accustomed to row on the Shannon.

The frigate, I should have said, was to call on her way back for some of the soldiers whom those we took out had come to relieve. Our approach had been seen by the officers at the barracks, which were situated about a mile from the town; and they came down to welcome their comrades in arms. Leaping on shore, the rocks which formed the landing-place being slippery, I fell, and came down on my knees with great force. I felt that I was severely hurt, and on attempting to rise, found it impossible to do so, even with the assistance of Larry, who sprang to my side, uttering an exclamation of sorrow. On this, one of the officers, whom I perceived by his dress to be a surgeon, came up to me, and at once examined my hurt.

“It requires to be instantly attended to,” he said, “or inflammation may set in, and in this climate the consequences may be serious.”

My friend Duffy proposed that I should be carried to the barracks, though my lieutenant at first objected to letting me go, declaring that he should not be long in getting back to the ship.

“Long enough to allow of the young gentleman losing his leg, or perhaps his life,” remarked the surgeon. “I’ll have him at once taken to a house in the town, and when your frigate comes back, I hope he’ll be in a condition to embark.”

Hearing this, the lieutenant not only gave me leave to remain, but allowed Larry to stay and attend on me. Tom Pim took my hand as Duffy and some of his men were placing me upon a door, which had been procured to carry me into the town.

“I wish that I was going to stay with you, Paddy,” he said; “but it’s of no use to ask leave, though I’d give a great deal if I could. We shall be very dull without you.”

“Thank you, Tom,” I answered. “If I had my will I’d rather go off. I suppose the doctor is right; and it’s safer to let him attend to me at once.”

I was carried immediately to a house which I found belonged to a Mr Hans Ringer, an attorney, who had charge of several plantations in that flourishing neighbourhood. The doctor and he, it was evident, were on most intimate terms, for on our arrival, without any circumlocution, the latter at once said—

“I have brought a young midshipman who requires to be looked after, and I’d be obliged to you if you’d order your people to get a room ready for him immediately.”

I could scarcely have supposed that so serious an injury could have been so easily inflicted. Soon after my arrival I nearly fainted with the pain, but the doctor’s treatment at length soothed it, and he was able to set the injured bones.

I must make a long story short, however.

Mr Ringer and his family treated me with the greatest kindness; indeed, nothing could surpass the hospitality of the inhabitants of Jamaica; and it was with the utmost difficulty, when I got better, that the doctor could get him to allow me to be carried to the barracks, where the fresher air would assist me in regaining my strength. Larry, of course, spent most of his time with me; indeed, had I not insisted on his going out, he never would have left my bedside.

I was now every day expecting the return of the frigate, when I believed that, well or ill, I should have to go on board her.

“That must depend on circumstances, my lad,” said Dr McManus. “For if you can’t go, you can’t. The captain must find another opportunity of getting you on board.”

“But suppose the frigate has to fight an action, I would not be absent on any account,” I exclaimed.

“With a fractured tibia, and the inflammation which would be sure to supervene, you would not render much service to your country,” observed the doctor. “When you have sufficiently recovered you can get back to Port Royal, and rejoin your ship; she’s not likely to be sent to a distance while the enemy’s fleet threaten the island. Indeed, we require all the forces on shore and afloat we can collect. I don’t quite understand what we shall do if we are attacked here, though I’m very sure we shall fight to the last before we let the French and Spanish land.”

I saw that there was no use in arguing the point, but I was determined, if I could, to go off and rejoin my ship. Larry did his best to console me.

“It’s not a bad place to be in, if you only had the use of your legs, Mr Terence. Them nager boys and girls are mighty funny creatures. What bothers me most is that I didn’t bring my fiddle on shore, for sure if I had, it would have been after setting them all dancing, till they danced out of their black skins. It’s rare fun to see them laughing as if they’d split their sides, when I sing to them. They bate us Irishmen hollow at that fun, I’ll allow. I find it a hard matter to contain myself when I see them rolling their eyes and showing their white teeth as they stretch their mouths from ear to ear.”

I happened to tell Dr McManus of Larry’s talent.

“I’ll try and get a fiddle for the boy, and put it to the test,” he said good-naturedly.

In the evening I was aroused from a nap into which I had fallen, by the sound of an Irish jig played on a violin, followed by shouts of laughter, clapping of hands, shrieks, and merriment, while the noise of feet from the courtyard below told me that Larry had been as good as his word. I thanked the doctor, who came in while the revels were at their height.

“I sent into the town and borrowed a fiddle, for I was sure that your follower’s music would do as much good to the men as the fresh air of the hills. They and the black boys and girls are all toeing and heeling it together. The niggers, I confess, beat them hollow in agility and endurance.”

I asked the doctor to wheel me to the window, that I might look out and see the fun. He good-naturedly complied, and assisted me to sit up. There were forty or fifty white men, and almost double the number of blacks of both sexes,—the women dressed in gay-coloured petticoats, with handkerchiefs round their heads; the men in white or striped cotton—the light colour contrasting with their dark skins,—one and all clapping their hands, snapping their fingers, and moving here and there in figures it was difficult to follow, but all evidently enjoying themselves immensely, judging by their grinning countenances and rolling eyes.

After this Larry became an immense favourite with the soldiers, as he found not a few of our countrymen among them. The officers of the little garrison were very kind to me, and I was never in want of society, as one or other was constantly by my bedside.

Notwithstanding this, as I got better I became more and more anxious to receive news of the frigate, and began to wonder what had become of her. Though I could not walk, I saw no reason why I should not return on board. The doctor, however, was still of a different opinion; and I was greatly disappointed when, on returning from the town one day, he told me that she had come off the harbour, and that he had sent on board to say that I was not yet fit to be moved, but would rejoin my ship by the first opportunity after I was convalescent. I could only thank him for his kindness, keeping my feelings to myself.

At length I was able to get out of bed, and walk with the assistance of a crutch. Had the doctor and Larry not held me up, however, the first time I made the attempt, I should have fallen down again. I felt just as, I suppose, an infant does on his first trying to toddle. After this I got rapidly better, and was soon able to join the officers in the mess-room, and in a short time to throw away my crutches.

The first walk I proposed to take was into Savannah-le-Mer to inquire about vessels proceeding to Port Royal. I was accompanied by Ensign Duffy and Larry. With their help I got on better than I expected; and though I didn’t feel inclined to take a leap, I fancied that if put to it I could run as well as ever.

We repaired to the house of Mr Ringer, who received us cordially, and from him I learnt that a fine vessel, the Princess Royal, would sail for Kingston the next day. He insisted on my remaining at his house, promising to drive me back to the barracks in the evening, that I might wish the kind doctor and my other friends there good-bye. We accordingly returned as he proposed. It was a difficult matter to get Larry away from his late companions, who seemed inclined to detain him vi et armis, the men grasping his hands, and the black girls hanging round him, many of them blubbering outright at the thoughts of parting from the “lubly Irish boy dat play de fiddle,”—as for pronouncing his name, that they found beyond their power.

The officers drank my health in overflowing bumpers, and had I not remembered my uncle’s advice, and prevented my own glass from being filled, I should not have been in a fit state to present myself at Mr Ringer’s hospitable mansion. I remember thinking the night oppressively hot, and was thankful that Mr Ringer was good enough to drive me from the barracks into the town.

“I don’t know what to make of the weather,” said my host the next morning, when we met at breakfast.

Not a breath of wind stirred the atmosphere, and it seemed as if all nature was asleep; while the sky, instead of being of a cerulean blue, was suffused, as the sun rose, with a fiery red tinge.

The hour—about noon—at which it was arranged that I should go on board was approaching. My host offered to accompany me down to the harbour, but before we reached it we encountered a violent squall, which almost took us off our legs, and sent Larry’s hat flying up the street. He made chase after it, and we stopped to let him overtake us, while a number of other people, caught by the wind, passed us running off in the same direction. At length his hat, driven into a doorway, was recovered, and Larry came battling against the wind to rejoin us.

“You’ll not put to sea to-day,” said my friend; “nor for many a day to come, if I mistake not; but we’ll make our way to the harbour, and see how things are going on there.”

On reaching it we found the sea already lashed into a mass of seething foam. The larger vessels strained at their anchors, some tossing and tumbling about, others already overwhelmed by the waves. It was with difficulty we could stand our ground.

“Unless the hurricane passes by, for hurricane it is, not one of those vessels will escape destruction,” said Mr Ringer. As he spoke, one of them parted from her cables and drove towards the shore.

“We must beat a rapid retreat if we wish to save our lives,” he continued; “the tempest is down upon us!”

The wind, which had previously blown from the south-east, suddenly shifted to the southward.

Grasping my arm, he hurried me off from the spot on which we were standing. At the same time down came a deluge of rain—not in mere drops, but in regular sheets of water. It wetted us to the skin in a few moments. Larry, now seizing my other arm, dragged me forward. As we looked back for a moment, we observed the sea rising in a mountain billow, hissing and foaming, and approaching the shore. It was but the first, however, of others still larger which were to follow. It broke with a thundering roar,—the water rushed on, flowing by the spot we had already reached; but even though we were nearly up to our knees, I couldn’t resist taking another glance behind. The whole ocean was covered with wreck; and one of the larger vessels I had seen just before, had disappeared beneath the surface.

As we hurried on, crash succeeded crash. First one house fell, then another, and another, and from some bright flames burst forth, which even the descending rain failed to quench. It was useless to attempt saving the lives of our fellow-creatures, for the same destruction would have overtaken us. Our great object was to reach the higher country in the direction of the barracks. Had Larry and I been alone, we should in all probability have lost our lives; but Mr Ringer, knowing the town, led us quickly through it by the shortest route. As we dashed through the streets, scarcely looking to the right hand or to the left, piercing cries of agony and despair struck on our ears. The smaller and more lightly built houses were levelled in a moment, and many even of the larger were crumbling away.

“Don’t you wish to go to your own house? if so, we must not stop you; we will go with you,” I said to Mr Ringer.

“We should only be crushed by the falling ruins if we made the attempt,” he answered at the top of his voice, and even then I could scarcely hear what he said. “I’ll try and get to it from the rear when I have seen you out of the town.”

Not far off from where we then were was a fine house, that had hitherto withstood the hurricane. Presently a blast struck us which, had we not clung together, would have blown us down. At the same time, looking up, I saw the house literally rocking. Down came one wall, and then another, the roof fell in, and in one instant it was a heap of shapeless ruins.

“I trust the inmates have escaped,” cried Mr Ringer.

Just then loud shrieks and cries for help struck on our ears. They came, it seemed, from beneath the ruins. We could not withstand the appeal for assistance, and calculating as well as we could in what direction the still standing walls would fall, we sprang forward, taking a course to avoid them across the mass of ruins. An arch, which had apparently formed the centre of a passage, was yet uninjured, though blocked up. The cries seemed to us to come from thence. We should find, we knew, great difficulty in removing the débris which encumbered it, and the walls might at any moment fall down and crush us. Still Larry and I, having climbed to the top of the heap, began pulling away the beams and planks and rubbish which stopped up the entrance. Mr Ringer joined us, though evidently considering our occupation a very dangerous one. However, we persevered, and at length had made an opening sufficiently large to look in. We could see two ladies, an old gentleman, and a mulatto servant.

“We have come to help you,” I cried out. “If you’ll climb up here you’ll be free, and there may yet be time, Mr Ringer thinks, to reach the open country.”

Mr Ringer joining us, the two gentlemen recognised each other.

“What, Martin! Glad to see you safe,” said the former. “Come, get out of that place as fast as possible.”

Encouraged by us, the youngest of the ladies first made the attempt, and succeeded in getting high enough to reach our hands. The old lady followed, though unless Mr Martin and the mulatto girl had shoved behind, we should have found it impossible to have got her through. Mr Martin and the girl followed.

As may be supposed, we didn’t stop longer on the ruins than was necessary, but scrambling over them, again reached the open street. Scarcely were we there before down came the remaining wall, with a crash which broke in the arch. It would certainly have destroyed Mr Martin and his family had they been there. The event showed us clearly the importance of getting out of the town. It seemed scarcely possible that any one passing through the narrow streets could escape being killed. Even in the broader ones the danger of being crushed was fearful. Mr Ringer assisted Mrs Martin, I offered my aid to the young lady, and Larry took charge of the old gentleman, who required helping as much as his wife and daughter. I had forgotten all about my lameness. We of course were somewhat delayed in our progress. Now we had to scramble over fallen walls—now we narrowly escaped being killed by masses of masonry and timber falling around us.

At length the open was reached, and we made our way to some higher ground overlooking the bay. We had reason to be thankful that we were out of the town. Providentially we reached a small stone building, which afforded us some shelter from the driving rain and furious wind, against which it was impossible to stand alone. The bay, as we looked down upon it, presented a fearful scene. The whole shore was strewn with masses of wreck. Not a small craft had escaped, and the largest, with all anchors down, were tossing about, and seemed every moment likely to be engulfed. The town itself was a heap of ruins, scarcely a house was standing, and none had escaped injury. In some places flames were raging, which would have set fire to other houses had it not been for the mass of water descending on them, while even amid the uproar of the elements we could hear the shrieks and cries of the inhabitants who still survived. Presently another immense wave rolled into sight, out of the dense mist which now shrouded the ocean. On it came with a tremendous roar. The first vessel it reached was in a moment buried beneath it. We thought the others would share the same fate, but the cables parted, and they were borne on the summit of the wave high up above the beach. On, on it came. Mr Ringer shouted out to us to escape; and he had reason to do so, for it seemed as if the wave would overwhelm the spot where we stood. Though the water swept up a portion of the height, the wave broke before it reached it, leaving the Princess Royal high and dry on the shore, while it receded, roaring and hissing, carrying off everything in its course. The crew of the stranded ship had good cause to be thankful for their escape. On again looking towards the town, we saw that the sea had swept away many of the houses in the lower part, while the water rushed through the streets, extinguishing some of the fires, and must have overwhelmed all caught in its embrace. Mr Ringer proposed that we should make our way to the barracks, but the ladies were unwilling to encounter the storm, and begged to remain where they were. Evening was now approaching, but the hurricane gave no signs of abating. In whatever direction we looked we could see its dire effects. Not a shrub, not a cane, remained standing. Every tree had been blown down. It seemed as if a vast scythe had passed over the land. The uproar continued as loud as before.

“This is a mighty curious country,” shouted Larry to me. “It beats a faction fight in Tipperary hollow. I was after thinking it was the most peaceable disposed part of the world, seeing how quiet it has been since we came out here. Hullo! what’s that?”

There was a loud rumbling sound. The earth shook beneath our feet.

“It’s an earthquake,” cried Mr Ringer. “Heaven forbid that it should increase.”

The ladies clung to Mr Martin with looks of terror. Again there came that fearful shaking of the earth; many of the remaining buildings toppled over. Flashes of lightning, brighter than I had ever before beheld, darted from the sky and lighted up the sea. Even the night scarcely added to the horrors of those moments, as far as we were concerned, though it must have done so to the miserable people still within the precincts of the town. At one time the water seemed to recede altogether out of the bay, but presently, as if gathered up in a heap, it once more rolled over the land.

Hour after hour went by, till about midnight, almost as suddenly as it had commenced, the hurricane passed away from us on its devastating course; and in a short time, excepting the roar of the surf upon the shore, scarcely a sound was heard. On this we set out for the barracks, hoping that they had withstood the tempest. Although they had suffered considerably, the larger portion had escaped.

Mr Martin and his wife and daughter warmly expressed their gratitude to us for having rescued them from their perilous position, saying that they must have perished had we not come to their assistance.

“I wish that I had a home to which to invite you, said Mr Martin, with a melancholy smile; but I trust that my house may ere long be rebuilt, and that I may have the means of showing my gratitude better than I can now.”

“I shall be very happy to stay with you if I have the chance,” I answered; “but I suspect it will be a long time before I again get leave.”

The officers, as might have been expected, received us in the kindest way possible. Duffy was delighted to see us. He fancied I might have gone on board, and sailed before the hurricane came on.

Next morning the commanding officer marched the whole of the men down, to render such assistance as they could to the survivors among the suffering inhabitants. I have never since witnessed a more fearful scene of destruction than the town presented. Numbers were lying about in the streets, where they had been crushed to death by the falling masses, many among them being the principal people in the place. In all directions the survivors were rushing about in quest of relatives or friends; while the larger number of the dead lay concealed beneath the ruins.

The appearance of the Princess Royal was extraordinary. We had seen her cast on shore and left on her beam-ends. At present she was perfectly upright, the ground beneath her keel, during the earthquake, having given way: and there she lay, securely embedded, without the possibility of ever being set afloat again, about a quarter of a mile from the beach. Two other vessels had been driven higher on shore, but lay on their beam-ends. It was at once proposed to utilise the vessel, by making her the home of the houseless inhabitants; and forthwith the women and children, and men unable to labour, were collected on board her. As I surveyed the effects of the hurricane, I naturally felt very anxious about my ship, fearing that she might have been at sea, and been lost. I afterwards learned that it was only the eastern wing of the hurricane that had swept by the western end of Jamaica, but that its influence in a less degree had been felt over the whole island. As soon as the news reached Kingston, vessels were despatched with provisions, and such relief as could be afforded, for the sufferers. As I was anxious to get back, I took my passage with Larry on board the Rose schooner. The captain promised to land us at Port Royal in a couple of days; “always providing that we are not snapped up by the enemy, or that another hurricane doesn’t come on,” he observed.

As we sailed out of the harbour, I could see at one glance, more clearly than before, the destruction worked by the hurricane and earthquake. The whole town appeared to be reduced to heaps of ruins, with here and there a few shattered walls standing up in their midst. The skipper of the Rose could give me no information about the Liffy, There were a considerable number of men-of-war in the harbour, and he had not taken especial note of any of them.

“If she was at sea during the hurricane, it is a hundred to one that she escaped,” he observed.

We made all sail, and kept in shore as much as we could, lest the enemy’s privateers might spy us out, and carry us off to Saint Domingo, or elsewhere. We, however, escaped all dangers; and, to my great joy, on entering Port Royal I made out the Liffy among the other men-of-war at anchor. The Rose’s boat took me alongside. Mr Saunders was on deck, so I went up to him.

“Come aboard, sir,” I said, touching my hat.

“What, my lad! is it you?” he exclaimed. “I’m glad to see you. There was a report that you had perished during the hurricane at Savannah. How is your leg? Able to return to your duty, I hope?”

“As able and willing as ever, sir,” I answered.

“That’s all right; there’ll be work for us all, ere long.”

As I entered the berth there was a regular shout, “Hurrah, Paddy Finn!”

“Glad to have you back, youngster,” cried Nettleship.

Tom Pim grasped my hand, and seemed unwilling to let it go, though he didn’t say as much as many of the others. I had to answer whole volleys of questions from my messmates, who were all eager to know what had happened to me. I described our narrow escape from the town, and modestly touched on the part I had taken in rescuing Mr Martin and his wife and daughter.

“Glad to see you uphold the honour of the cloth,” said Nettleship; “we should never see anybody in danger, and not try to help them at the risk of our lives.”

I was amply repaid by the praises my messmates bestowed upon me, for they knew that I had only told them the truth without exaggeration. I asked what they expected we should do next.

“Look out for the French and Spanish fleets, which have long been threatening to pay the island a visit, and take possession of it, if they can,” answered Nettleship. “Why they have not come before now I don’t know; but there’s some reason for it, I suppose.”

The sound of music, and the stamp of feet, as I went forward in the evening, showed me that Larry’s fiddle had been taken care of; and there he was, scraping away in high glee, setting his messmates dancing merrily to his music, they not troubling their heads about the fierce work which was in store for them. He had received, he afterwards told me, a hearty welcome from all hands, who were delighted to get him back among them.

The next morning Nettleship went on shore. We were most of us in the berth when he returned.

“I have grand news, boys; not so much for us, though, as for the people of Jamaica. The governor has received information that the Spanish and French fleets were caught in the late hurricane, as they were cruising off Cape François. Two Spanish ships foundered, two more were driven no one knows where, and four were dismasted. Two Frenchmen were dismasted, one went to the bottom, and another was driven on shore, while the rest, considerably battered, had to bear away to Havanna.”

“How do you know that it’s all true?” asked several of the mess.

“I heard it from the captain himself, and, what’s more, we’re to sail forthwith to carry the information to Sir Samuel Hood, who is supposed to be at Barbadoes. He sent me on to direct Mr Saunders to get the ship ready for sea, so that we may sail the moment he comes on board.”

The boatswain’s call, summoning all hands on deck, prevented us from asking any further questions. It not being known at what moment the ship might be sent to sea, she was kept well provided with water and fresh provisions, so that we had nothing to wait for from the shore, except a few of the officers, who had gone to Port Royal.

Blue Peter was hoisted and a gun fired, as a signal for them to come off. The topsails were loosed, the cable hove short, and we were ready to start at the first puff of the land breeze that might come off the mountains. We were all anxiously looking out for the appearance of the captain. The moment his gig came alongside, she was hoisted up, the anchor hove in, the sails let fall, and we glided out of the harbour. Under the influence of the land breeze, with studding-sails set below and aloft, we ran on at a rapid rate, expecting that we should reach Barbadoes in about a week at the furthest. When once away from the land, the wind dropped, and for hours we lay becalmed. The next morning we got a light breeze, which enabled us to steer our course. A constant look-out was kept for the enemy, for though the main body of the French fleet was said to be in harbour, it was likely that their cruisers would be met with.

Nettleship, Tom Pim, and I were in the morning watch. The first ruddy streaks, harbingers of the rising sun, had appeared in the eastern sky, when the look-out who had been sent aloft shouted, “A sail on the lee-bow.”

Chapter Thirteen.

Fresh captures.

There had been a stark calm since the commencement of the middle watch. The sails still hung up and down against the masts.

“What does she look like?” inquired Mr Bramston, the lieutenant of the watch.

“A ship, sir,” was the answer.

Nettleship, with his glass at his back, sprang up the rigging to take a look at the stranger.

“She’s a ship, sir, but appears to me to be a small one,” he observed as he came down. The chances are that it’s all we shall know about her. If she gets a breeze before us she’ll soon be out of sight.

Soon after, some catspaws began to play across the water.

“Hurrah! we shall get the breeze before the stranger feels it,” cried Nettleship.

Now the canvas began to bulge out; now it again dropped. The royals and topgallant sails filled, and the frigate moved slowly through the water. Her speed soon increased, however, as the breeze freshened. At length we could see the stranger from the decks, for, as she still lay becalmed, we were quickly coming up with her. Nettleship again went aloft, and I followed him.

“What do you think of her?” I asked.

“She’s Spanish or French; I’m pretty certain of that. A flush-decked ship, probably carrying twenty to six-and-twenty guns.”

“If she can’t escape, will she fight, do you think?” I inquired.

“If her captain has any pluck in him, he may hope to knock away some of our spars, though he can’t expect to take us,” he said.

When we again came below, and Nettleship made his report, the drum beat to quarters. Every stitch of canvas we could carry had been set, below and aloft. We were carrying down the breeze as we glided on towards the stranger. She also made all sail, though she still lay becalmed; but every moment we expected to see her canvas blow out, when, if she was a fast vessel, she might lead us a long chase before we could come up to her. As our object was to get down to Barbadoes with all speed, the captain might consider it his duty to let her go, rather than be led out of his course. As we approached, our bow-chasers were got ready, to send her an unmistakeable message that she must strike, or run for it. Hitherto she had shown no colours. Presently the French ensign was run up at her peak. Immediately afterwards a flash issued from her stern, and a shot came bounding over the water towards us; but we were not yet within range.

“That’s a long gun,” observed Nettleship. “If she keeps ahead, she may do us some damage with it before we get alongside of her.”

“Give her the starboard bow gun, Mr Saunders,” cried the captain.

The gun being trained as far forward as possible, we yawed slightly to port. We watched the shot as it flew across the water. It was well aimed, for it struck the counter of the chase; but its force must have been nearly expended, for it fell back into the sea.

All the sails of the chase were now drawing, and away she went before the wind.

“She may still lead us a long dance, unless we can knock away some of her spars,” observed Nettleship. “She’s evidently a fast craft, or her commander would not attempt to escape. We are, however, as yet gaining on her; and, if we can once get her under our broadside, we shall soon bring down her colours.”

While he was speaking, another shot was fired from the Frenchman’s stern. Ricochetting over the surface, it passed close to our side. After this she continued firing shot after shot. Two went through our canvas, others missed us. At last one came on board, and carried off a man’s head.

Captain Macnamara, anxious to get up to her, would not lose way by again yawing to fire; and we had to receive her shot without returning the compliment.

“It’s very annoying to be bothered by a small craft like that,” said Tom. “However, we’ll pay her off when we do get up with her.”

Fast as she was, our wider spread of canvas enabled us before long to bring our foremost guns to bear. They were fired in rapid succession. The first discharge produced no apparent damage; but at the second, down came her mizen-yard. On seeing this, our crew cheered lustily, and our guns were quickly run in and reloaded. The enemy, however, showed no intention of striking.

Just as we were again about to fire, putting her helm to starboard, she brought the whole of her larboard broadside to bear on us, and a dozen round shot came crashing aboard the frigate.

Three of our men fell, and several others were wounded, mostly by the splinters which flew about the deck. None of our spars, however, were shot away.

Before she could again keep before the wind the whole of our starboard broadside was poured into her. It was better aimed even than hers. The sound of the shrieks and cries rising from her deck told us of its fearful effects. Still her colours were flying.

Again keeping before the wind, she stood on, blazing away at us from two long guns in her stern. The loss of her mizen told on her sailing. Slowly but surely we got nearer and nearer.

“Shall we not soon be up with her?” I asked Nettleship; for it was trying work to be peppered at without being able to return more than a single shot occasionally.

“As surely as the sun sets and rises again, unless she knocks away one of our masts, or brings down our main or fore-yard; and then it’s possible that she may get off after all.”

“I made sure we should have her before many minutes were over,” I observed.

I remarked the eager countenances of the men as they stood at their guns, expecting every moment the order to fire. It came at last. Once more we kept away.

“Give it them now!” cried the captain, and every gun sent forth a sheet of flame.

Our shot told with fearful effect on the enemy’s deck. There seemed to be confusion on board, and then a man was seen to spring aft, and down came the colours.

A cheer rose from our men at the sight. We stood on, however, till we were close enough to hail, when the captain ordered through the speaking-trumpet the Frenchman to heave to, threatening to fire another broadside if he failed to do so. The order was obeyed; and we also having hove-to, a boat was lowered to send on board and take possession. Mr Bramston went in her, and I accompanied him.

On reaching the deck of the prize, a glance showed me the fearful damage our guns had produced. In all directions lay numbers of dead seamen, the deck slippery with gore. The bulwarks were shattered, two of the boats knocked to pieces, and the ship was otherwise severely damaged.

A lieutenant stepped up to us.

“My captain lies there,” he said, and he pointed to a body concealed beneath a flag; “another of my brother officers is killed, the rest are wounded, and I alone am unhurt.”

Mr Bramston complimented him on his bravery, and told him to prepare for going on board the frigate.

Meantime other boats came alongside and removed the crew of the prize, which proved to be the Soleil carrying eighteen guns and six carronades, with a crew of one hundred and eighty men, upwards of thirty of whom were killed or wounded.

Mr Bramston sent me back with this information. The captain at once decided to remove the prisoners, and send the prize to Port Royal.

As no time was to be lost, the boats were lowered, and the prisoners soon brought on board.

The captain at once sent for Nettleship, Tom, and me.

“I intend to send you in charge of the prize, Mr Nettleship,” he said, “and these two youngsters can accompany you. Fifteen men are all I can spare you, so you must make the most of them. All the prisoners will be removed, with the exception of about a dozen, who may volunteer to assist in working the ship, so that you’ll easily look after them.”

“Thank you, sir, for the confidence you place in me,” said Nettleship, who would gladly have accepted the command, even if he had had but half a dozen men.

Tom and I promised to do our best, and hurried below to get our traps ready.

I took care to apply for Larry, and to remind him to bring his riddle with him, but I didn’t hear what other men were selected to form the prize crew. Ten of the Frenchmen only could be induced to promise their assistance. Tom and I, without loss of time, accompanied Nettleship on board. As soon as the dead were put overboard, the decks washed down, and the damages the prize had received were repaired, the men who had come from the frigate to assist us returned to her. She stood to the southward, and we made sail for Port Royal. Among the first men on whom my eyes fell was Dan Hoolan, looking as sulky and morose as ever, though he was going about his work with more activity than he generally displayed. As I caught sight of the rest of the crew, I found that three more of the Irishmen pressed with him were among them.

“I hope that by this time they are content with their lot, and will do their duty like men,” I thought to myself; “still I would rather have had any others.”

“We are terribly short-handed, I must confess,” said Nettleship, as he and I were seated at dinner in the captain’s cabin, while Tom Pim was acting as officer of the watch. “I know I can trust you two fellows, however, and we must make the most of the men we’ve got. There are many of them about the worst on board; but if we have fine weather, they won’t have much to do, and we may hope not to catch a Tartar on the way. We must take to our heels if we see a suspicious stranger, and the Soleil appears to have a fast pair, at all events, so we may hope to escape. Though I would rather be in a condition to fight than have to run away.”

“The Frenchmen only promised to assist in navigating the ship. We mustn’t trust them to man the guns,” I said.

“We’ll see what our own men can do without them, then,” said Nettleship in a cheery tone.

We hurried over our dinner to let Tom come down and take his, while Nettleship and I went on deck. The weather looked favourable, and Nettleship was in high spirits at finding himself in command of a fine ship. Should he take her to Port Royal in safety, he might reasonably expect to obtain his long waited-for promotion. Although the majority of the men sent with us were the least reliable of the crew, we had an old quartermaster, Ben Nash, and three other seamen, who were first-rate hands, and we took care to put two of them into each watch. Of course there was plenty of work to do in getting the ship to rights. As soon as the men knocked off we heard Larry’s riddle going. Stepping forward, I found that he had set all the Frenchmen dancing, and some of our own men, too, who were enjoying themselves to their hearts’ content. “Larry will take good care to keep the people in good temper,” I thought to myself, as I turned aft.

When night came on, Nettleship thought it prudent to shorten sail, as is the custom of careful merchant skippers, who can’t perform that operation in a hurry. We lost nothing by so doing, as for some hours it was a stark calm. Tom and Ben Nash were in one watch, Nettleship and I in another. Night passed quickly away. Towards morning we got a breeze, and were once more standing on our course. We kept a bright look-out, not, as we should have liked, to watch for a prize, but to run away should a suspicious sail be sighted. We kept no colours flying, for should a Frenchman see us, we might have a better chance of avoiding an encounter. At daylight, as we had a fair breeze, all sail was again set, and we stood gaily on our course.

“If this weather holds, we shall be safe at anchor in a couple of days in Port Royal,” said Nettleship.

“A sail ahead!” shouted the look-out, from aloft.

“We must continue on our course till we see what she is,” said Nettleship.

Tom Pim, who went aloft to have a look at her, on his return said that she was a brig, standing to the westward, but too far off at the time to judge of her size. She appeared to be almost becalmed, while we, carrying the breeze along with us, rapidly neared her. At length we could see her clearly from the deck.