The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Shipmates, by William H. G. Kingston

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Title: The Two Shipmates

Author: William H. G. Kingston

Release Date: March 4, 2008 [EBook #23051]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Two Shipmates, by William H.G. Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________

This is only a short book, taking no more than three and a half hours to
read aloud, but it is beautifully written, and it packs a punch.

The two people designated as shipmates start off at the beginning of the
book as reasonably close friends, but a weakness for alcohol causes Dick
Bracewell to behave more and more badly, while the real hero, Ralph
Michelmore, despite being taken by the Press-gang, behaves more and more
nobly as the story progresses.

Ralph is already Mate of the Amity when pressed into the Royal Navy, but
he had accidentally gone out that evening without his "Protection", a
document attesting to his rank in the Merchant Navy.  He had that very
evening become engaged to Jessie, who waits for him for years.

With a couple of curious twists it all works out well in the end; Ralph
is reunited with Jessie, and the wicked shipmate, Dick, meets a suitable
doom.

________________________________________________________________________

THE TWO SHIPMATES, BY WILLIAM H.G. KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

The stout trading brig _Amity_, Samuel Mudge master and part owner, was
gliding up Plymouth Sound on a summer's evening towards her accustomed
berth in Catwater, a few years before the termination of the last war
between England and France.  She had no pilot on board; indeed, her crew
averred that the old craft could find the way in and out of the harbour
by herself; at all events, her master knew it better than most men
trading from the port, as did his young mate, Ralph Michelmore.

The last rays of the setting sun were glancing on the topgallant
mast-heads of the brig when her anchor was dropped, and by the time her
sails were furled and all was made snug the gloom of night had settled
down on the Pool, and twinkling lights began to appear from the houses
on shore.

"You'll be wishing to go on shore, my boy," said the old master, as
Ralph, the duties for the day over, came into the cabin to join him at
tea, which the boy had just placed on the table.  "There'll be some one
who'll be right glad to see thee, lad;" and the speaker looked up at the
mate, whose handsome countenance beamed with pleasure, a slight blush
rising on it as he answered--

"Thank you, sir; thank you heartily.  I should very much like to pay
Mistress Treviss--and--and her granddaughter a visit.  I had few
opportunities of seeing them when we were last in port, and as we have
been long on this trip they may be anxious about us.  But would not you
prefer going on shore yourself, captain?  It's my duty to remain on
board."

"No, do you go, as I tell ye," replied the kind old master.  "I'll stay
on board and look after the ship.  But I say, lad, take your protection
with you.  The press-gangs are sure to be out, and you may chance to
fall in with one of them."

"Thank you, sir, I have it here," said Ralph, producing a tin case from
his pocket; and hurriedly swallowing his tea without sitting down, he
went into his cabin to rig himself in his shore-going suit.

Ralph's father, the commander of a merchant vessel, and an old friend
and shipmate of Captain Mudge, had been lost at sea, washed from the
deck in a heavy gale, leaving his wife and young child but ill provided
for.  The widow, a truly Christian woman, exerted herself to the utmost
of her strength to support and educate her boy, but when he was about
fourteen years of age her health gave way, and she died, committing him
to the charge of good Captain Mudge.

Ralph, who had set his heart on going to sea, was taken as an apprentice
on board the _Amity_ the next voyage she made.  By his steadiness,
intelligence, and activity, he soon became a prime seaman.  When on
shore he studied navigation, and as soon as his time was out, Captain
Mudge, the berth being vacant, made him his mate.  Most of the crew
heartily congratulated Ralph on his promotion, for they acknowledged
him, young as he was, to be the best seaman among them.  The only one
who grumbled was Dick Bracewell, who had also been an apprentice on
board the _Amity_, and being a year older than Ralph, and a very fair
sailor, considered that he had superior claims to promotion.

"I'm not going to quarrel with you about the matter, Ralph," he said,
though he looked very much inclined to do so.  "If the skipper chooses
to favour you that's not your fault; but you can't expect me, as good a
man as yourself you'll allow, to be jumping here and there at your
orders; and so as soon as we get back to Plymouth I shall take my chest
and clear out of the old ship for good.  I shall easily get a berth as
mate on board another craft, and if we meet again we shall be as good
friends as ever, I hope."

"No doubt about that, Dick," answered Ralph; "I am sorry, however, that
you have made up your mind to leave us; still it's but natural, I own."

"Ay, I should think so," said Dick, walking forward.

Dick might have been as active and bold a seaman as Ralph, but the
captain had, notwithstanding, ample reason for refusing to make him his
mate, for he was known to be wild on shore, and was often far from
attentive to his duty on board; while, though he professed to have
learned navigation, his calculations were not to be depended on.  Still,
being good-natured and brave as need be, he was liked by the rest of the
crew, in spite of being thoughtless and inclined to give way to temper.
Ralph had a sincere regard for him.  He saw his shipmate's errors, but
believed him possessed of redeeming good qualities, and hoped that he
would in time amend his bad ways.

Dick kept to his intention, and on reaching Plymouth bade his old
captain and shipmates good-bye.  This occurred about a couple of years
before the time we are speaking of, and since then Ralph had heard
nothing of Dick Bracewell.

No sailor takes long to dress.  Ralph was quickly ready, and a fine
young fellow he looked as he stepped back into the cabin habited in what
the old captain called his "shore-going toggery."  Promising to be on
board again before midnight, he jumped into a boat which had just come
alongside, and told the waterman to pull for the landing-place.

"You must keep a sharp look-out not to fall in with the press-gangs,
master," observed the latter.  "They are out every night, and are in no
ways particular on whom they lay hands."

"Thank you," answered Ralph; "I've no cause to fear them, and am not
going where they are likely to be looking for their prey."

Ralph had proceeded a few paces after landing, when he heard steps
behind him and felt a hand placed on his shoulder.  Turning round he saw
a sailor-like man, who exclaimed, "What, Ralph Michelmore, old chum!
Don't you know me?  I am Dick Bracewell.  I'm sure I can't be mistaken
in you, for I saw the _Amity_ come in at sunset, and hoped to fall in
with you, though I'd no fancy to go on board, do you see."

"And I'm right glad to meet you, Dick," said Ralph, grasping the other's
proffered hand.  "Where have you been all these years?"

"Knocking about in one craft or another, and seeing something more of
the world than you have in your jog-trot old tub, I fancy," answered
Bracewell, with a laugh.  "I've just come back from a voyage to the West
Indies, with my pockets full of shiners, which I'm going to try and get
rid of in enjoying myself.  Come along, Ralph, and help me.  I only
stepped on shore for the first time just as you did, so I've not begun
yet."

"Thank you, Dick; you mean it kindly, but I'm on my way to see some
friends, and have promised to be on board again to-night," said Ralph,
as they walked on together.

"What, not take a glass or two of grog with an old shipmate!" cried Dick
in an aggrieved tone.  "Come, come, man, just for once be social."

"Even if I ever took liquor, which I don't, I haven't time to stay with
you," said Ralph, firmly; adding, after a moment's reflection, in the
hope of preventing his companion from committing the folly he meditated,
"Instead of doing as you propose, come along with me to see an old lady
and her granddaughter.  They are great friends of mine, and will welcome
you for my sake; indeed, I'll confess that I hope some day to marry the
little girl."

"No, no, my boy; I should be left to do the polite to the old dame,
while you make love to the young one," answered Dick, with a hoarse
laugh, which Ralph did not like.  "That sort of thing is not to my
taste; still, to please you, if you'll come in here and do as I want
you, I'll think about it."  The door of a public-house stood temptingly
open.  Dick endeavoured to drag in Ralph, who however resisted manfully,
and tore his arm away from his companion's grasp.

"Once more hear me, Dick," he said, unwilling to abandon his old friend
without another effort to save him.  "If you take one glass you'll take
another and another, till you won't know what you are about, and then
ten to one you'll fall into the hands of crimps who'll fleece you of
every shilling in your pocket, or you'll get picked up by a press-gang
and be carried on board a man-of-war, not to regain your liberty for
years to come."

"Don't preach to me, Ralph; I know how to take care of myself; so if you
go on I'll follow you, and you shall see that I'm as sober as a judge,"
answered Dick, and with a laugh he darted into the public-house.

Ralph, though eager to be with his friends, waited a minute or more in
the hope that he might come out, and then, as he did not appear,
reluctantly walked on.  At length, having passed through the town, he
reached a small cottage in the outskirts, with a few yards of garden in
front.  Passing through the wicket-gate he stopped for a moment at the
door.  The window was partly open, and he could hear a sweet voice
reading.  He caught the words; they were from the Book of Books, which
he had learned to know and value.  He was unwilling to interrupt the
reader.  She stopped, however, having come to the end of the chapter.
He knocked.  "May I come in?" he asked.  "Oh, granny, it is Ralph!"  The
words were uttered by the same person who had just ceased reading, but
in a very different tone.  He well knew the sweet voice.  His heart beat
quick.  He heard the speaker come flying to the door.  In a moment it
was opened.  "Jessie, my own dear Jessie!" he exclaimed, as he pressed
the hand of a fair blooming girl, who welcomed him with a bright smile.

"I hoped that you might come to-day, and yet as the hours drew on I
began to fear that I might again be disappointed," she said, as she
looked up affectionately into his face.  "How slow the _Amity_ must have
sailed!"

"She is like other craft, not able to make way without wind, and we had
scarcely a cup-full all the voyage round from the Thames; besides which,
we were detained there much longer than usual; but she has safely
reached port at last," he answered; adding, as he advanced into the room
towards a neatly-dressed old lady in a high mob-cap, seated in an
arm-chair, with knitting-needles in her hands and spectacles on her
nose,--"And how is Mrs Treviss?"

"Ever glad to see thee, dear Ralph," answered the old lady, trying, not
without difficulty, to rise, till the young man springing forward
quietly made her sit down again.  "In spiritual health I am well--the
Lord be praised for all His mercies; but bodily infirmities creep on
apace with old age, and remind me that my earthly course is well-nigh
run."

"I hope that you will live many years to be a blessing to us, granny,"
said the young sailor, affectionately, taking her hand.

"I am ready to remain if it is the Lord's will," she answered.  "And now
tell me, Ralph, how is good Captain Mudge?  I hope that he will pay me a
visit before he sails again, as I want much to talk to him on a matter
of importance."

"He is tough and hearty as ever; he will, I am sure, come and see you,"
said Ralph.

Mrs Treviss, however, did not entirely occupy the young sailor's
attention.  He and Jessie had a good deal to say to each other of
especial interest to themselves as they sat side by side, Jessie's hands
having found their way into those of Ralph.  At last Mrs Treviss
reminded her that their guest might possibly be hungry, and that it was
full time for supper, which she, in obedience to her grandmother, got up
to place on the table.  "How neat-handed and graceful in all her
movements she is!" thought Ralph, as his eyes followed her about the
room; and they were seldom off the door watching for her return when she
went into the kitchen to warm up the old dame's posset and prepare some
other viands.  Mrs Treviss took the opportunity of her absence to speak
to Ralph on a subject which he found especially interesting.  "If I was
younger and stronger I would not give you this advice I am about to do,"
she said.  "I would say, wait for a few years till you have the command
of a ship, and Jessie is older and better able than now to keep house
and have the cares of a family, but as I fear my poor son-in-law, her
father, Captain Flamank, will never more be heard of, and I may ere long
be called to my rest, she will have no one in this world to protect her
but you; and so it's my wish that you should marry as soon as you can
manage to spend a few weeks on shore."

"Then that may be at once," exclaimed the young lover, delighted.  "The
_Amity_ requires some repairs, and the captain is much in a mind, unless
a good freight offers, to go into dock, and his wish to serve me may
settle the matter.  I little thought when I came up this evening what
good news you had in store for me; I can never thank you enough."

"Nay, Ralph, though I love you, it's my grandchild's welfare I have at
heart, for I can with perfect confidence confide her to you," said the
old lady, taking Ralph's hand and looking him earnestly in the face.
"You will cherish her and watch over her, and guard her from all evil."

"Indeed I will, if health and strength is given me," he answered
solemnly.

"For that we must trust to God," said Mrs Treviss.  "All we can do is
to exercise the sense He has given us, and guard against the dangers we
know may occur.  I have therefore made my will, and left the very small
property I possess to Jessie; but most of my income, as the widow of a
warrant-officer killed in action, ceases at my death, so that as a
single woman she would be but poorly off, though she will have something
to help keep house."

"I would as willingly marry her if she had not a sixpence," exclaimed
Ralph, warmly.  "More willingly I could not, but it would be a
satisfaction to know that I was saving her from poverty or from having
to toil for her living."

"I know you will, Ralph, and I believe you, so say no more about that,"
observed Mrs Treviss.  "If your good captain settles to put the _Amity_
into dock, you may perhaps marry some day next week.  You can ask
Jessie, and I don't think she will say you nay."

Ralph was pouring out his thanks from the bottom of his heart, with all
the ardour of a young sailor, when Jessie returned.  He would at once
have broached the subject had not Mrs Treviss given him timely warning
that by so doing he would considerably interfere with the supper
arrangements.  Jessie therefore went back to the kitchen and returned
several times, unaware of the interesting conversation which had taken
place, though she might have observed the animated expression of her
lover's countenance.  When all was ready and they sat down to table
Ralph ate so little that Jessie began to fear he was unwell, and she at
last could not help looking up affectionately in his face and asking him
if such was the case.

"Oh no, I never felt better in my life, Jessie; and so happy!" he
answered.

Perhaps she herself might just then have had some suspicion of the
truth, for she forgot to eat any more; and shortly afterwards her
granny, getting up, hobbled out of the room.  The young people were
alone, and, as may be supposed, Ralph did not lose much time in telling
Jessie what Mrs Treviss had said, and asking her if she would consent
to the arrangement.  Jessie was as ready to obey her granny's wishes as
Ralph could desire, and as he told her there would be no difficulty in
obtaining a licence she consented to fix the following Monday for their
wedding-day, if he could, as he hoped, remain in Plymouth.  He was
naturally very sanguine in the expectation of being able to obtain a
holiday.  He even thought that, should the _Amity_ be offered a freight
which could not be refused, Captain Mudge would propose getting another
mate for the voyage, as it was summer time; not that he should like him
to do that.  Jessie thought that Captain Mudge would not hesitate about
having the _Amity_ repaired.  How could he, when so important an event
depended on his decision!  At length granny came back into the room,
with a smile on her countenance, and, sitting down in her arm-chair,
looked up at the tall clock in the corner, which had gone "tick! tick!
tick!" unheeded for an hour or more since supper.

"Well, my dears, is it all settled?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Ralph.  "Jessie has promised to make me the happiest
young fellow alive next Monday--though I am wonderfully happy for that
matter at present,"--and jumping up he kissed granny's hand and thanked
her again and again for the gift she had bestowed on him, and then he
ran back to Jessie's side.

At that instant there came several thundering blows on the door from a
heavy cudgel, and a gruff voice cried out, "Open in the King's name;"
while another was heard to say, in a lower tone, "Go round to the back
and look out that he does not escape by that way."



CHAPTER TWO.

When Dick Bracewell entered the tavern, he intended merely to take a
glass of liquor, just to show his independence, and then to follow his
friend.  He, however, found a shipmate, Tom Joyce, in the bar, who
easily persuaded him to take a second, followed, naturally, by a third;
and then, his spirits raised, he was induced to accompany his companion
to a dancing hall attached to a public-house in one of the back streets
not far off.  Upwards of fifty seamen were collected, many of them
half-seas-over, when a press-gang, to whose commanding officer notice
had been given of what was going forward (very likely by the landlord
himself), rushed in, and, after a severe struggle, captured whole of
them, including Dick and Tom, who, having only just fallen into the
trap, were the most sober of the party.

While the more unruly were carried down at once to the boats, Dick and
Tom with a few others were marched along by the larger part of the
press-gang, who were evidently intent on making further captures.

The two captives had their wits wide awake, and were not without hopes
of effecting their escape.

The press-gang went on till they reached the outskirts of the town, when
they brought up before a neat little cottage.  Three men were sent round
to the back-door, while five others advanced to the front entrance and
knocked loudly.

"That's where Widow Treviss lives; she's not one to harbour seamen,"
Dick heard one of the party observe.

"Nol Hedger says he marked a prime seaman go in there not two hours
ago," answered another.  It at once occurred to Dick that they were
speaking of Ralph Michelmore.

"Poor fellow!  It's where the young girl lives he's going to marry.  If
they get hold of him they'll not mind her tears and prayers, but will
carry him off, like the rest of us, to serve the king.  However he has a
protection, and has a chance of getting off, I hope."

The blow on the door was, repeated.

"Open in the King's name," shouted the officer.

"I always obey that authority," answered Dame Treviss, from within,
"Ralph, unlock the door."

The door was thrown open, and the seamen, led by their officer, rushed
in.  The old dame sat calmly in her chair, while Ralph, with Jessie
clinging to his arm, stood in the centre of the room.

"Why have you come here at this time of the evening, my friends?" asked
Mrs Treviss, with all the composure she could command.

"Because, old lady, we have information that you are harbouring seamen
wanted for his Majesty's service, and, if I mistake not, here stands one
of them, and a likely lad too," answered the officer, a rough old
master's mate, well accustomed to such work, as he laid his hand on
Ralph's arm and made a sign to his men to seize him.

"Oh, no, no!  You cannot take him!  You will not be so cruel--you shall
not have him," cried Jessie, clinging tightly to her intended husband.

"Don't be frightened, dear Jessie, they cannot take me, I have my
protection," said Ralph, trying to free himself from the officer's
grasp.

"Let go my arm, and I will show you the paper which proves that I am
mate of the _Amity_, and a protected man," he added, turning to the
officer.

"Never took a fellow yet who didn't try to make out that he was
protected.  However, if the young woman here won't make such a fuss
we'll let you overhaul your pockets for your protection."

Ralph was released, and began to search in his pockets.  Poor Jessie
stood by, still trembling with alarm, and anxiously watching him.

"Oh!  You must have it, Ralph," she exclaimed in a plaintive tone, as
she saw that he did not produce the important document.  "Oh!  Let me
try," and she plunged her hands eagerly into his pockets.  She uttered a
cry of dismay when it was not to be found.

"I must have forgotten to take it out of my other jacket when I dressed
to come on shore," said Ralph; "I had it just before I left the brig, I
know.  Don't be alarmed, Jessie dear, all will come right; Captain Mudge
will send it to me, or, if the officer will permit me to go on board,
I'll get it--I will, indeed, sir," he added, addressing the old mate,
"and will, on my honour, return with it to any place you may name; I
will, on my honour."

"That sort of note, I tell you, don't pass current with us, my lad,"
answered the old mate, more moved perhaps by Jessie's agony of grief and
terror than from his gruff manner and language might have been supposed.
"It's hard lines for you, I'll allow, as matters stand, I see; out
cheer up, my good girl, many another man has had to serve his Majesty
for a year or two and come home with his pockets full of rhino to set up
house.  As to the protection, I knew from the first that was all fudge;
so as we've lost too much time already palavering about it, come along,
my brave fellow, without more ado."  As he spoke he again seized Ralph
by the arm, and three of the men stepped forward to assist him.

Poor Jessie clung to Ralph frantically, entreating that he might be
allowed to remain.  "He will bring you the paper to-morrow; I can answer
for him, and so can my grandmother.  He never told a falsehood in his
life; he would not deceive even you," she exclaimed.  "Oh, let him go!
Cruel, cruel men!"

"The young man speaks only the truth," said Dame Treviss, trembling with
agitation as she rose from her chair and tottered to her grand child's
assistance.

While two of the men had seized Ralph, another was about to tear Jessie
from him, when the dame took the poor girl in her arms.

"Take off your hands, lads, and I will accompany you without attempting
to escape," he said, and the men releasing him he bore Jessie to the
little horse-hair sofa, where he placed her by the dame's side,
bestowing on her a loving kiss as he did so.

Having released himself gently from her arms, "Now I am ready to
accompany you, sir," he said, and walked steadily towards the door.
Perhaps even then the king's officer might have felt that the merchant
seaman was, morally, his superior.

The dame, fearing that Jessie might be exposed to some rough treatment
should she attempt to stop Ralph, held her in her arms till he had
reached the door.  She cast a fond look at him as his captors hurried
him away.

The door was closed--he was gone!  She listened with aching heart to the
retreating steps of the cruel press-gang as they bore off their
prisoners, till the sound died away in the distance.  In vain her
grandmother tried to console her; a fearful foreboding filled her gentle
bosom that she might never see him more, and she refused to be
comforted.



CHAPTER THREE.

As soon as Ralph Michelmore was in the road, though he had offered no
resistance, he was roughly thrust into the midst of the press-gang, who
again closed round their prisoners.  The officer called off the men on
the watch at the other side of the house, and gave the order to proceed
back to the boats.  They had not gone far when Ralph felt one of his
fellow captives stumble up against him, evidently to attract his
attention.

"Hist, old ship!  I'd have given a year's wages rather than have seen
you in the hands of the gang," whispered the man, whom he knew at once
to be Dick Bracewell.

"Thank you, Dick," answered Ralph.  "I am vexed with myself for not
having brought my protection with me.  I shall, however, get it
to-morrow, without doubt, so I shall be all right.  I am sorry though to
find that you have been pressed."

"It's little odds to me where I am, but much to you whether you keep
your liberty, according to what you told me about that young girl,"
answered Dick, in the same low tone.  "Now, depend on't, they'll take
good care you don't receive your protection, for I've found out that we
are to be shipped this very night aboard the _Falcon_, now lying in the
Sound, and that she sails for a foreign station--the East Indies, they
say--to-morrow morning.  Bless ye, old ship!  Before Captain Mudge can
bring you your protection we shall have run the Eddystone out of sight."

This information made Ralph very anxious, for he had too much reason to
fear that it was correct.  Dick fancied that some of the press-gang were
observing him, and was silent for some time, though not idle with his
fingers, walking on as if resigned to his fate.  Once more he stumbled,
apparently without intending to do so, against Ralph.

"Hist, mate!  You'd like to get your liberty, and come what may I've
made up my mind to help you," he whispered.  "My hands are free.  In
half a minute we shall be close to some dark lanes, and more than one
hiding-place I know of.  I'll knock the fellow down nearest to you, and
then do you run for it."

"I cannot do it, Dick; I promised not to run, and I must not break my
promise," answered Ralph.

"Oh, nonsense!" cried Dick; "if those fellows made you give a promise
it's their look out."

"A promise is a promise in God's sight, however made," said Ralph.

"Then you don't care for the young girl you talked of marrying," said
Dick, again lowering his voice.

"I'd give my life for her sake," answered Ralph.

"That's not the question.  Come, here's the place; say the word and
you'll be free," whispered Dick, not attending to his last remark.

"No, I cannot," answered Ralph firmly.

"An obstinate man will have his own way, and be sorry for it
afterwards," exclaimed Dick, in a tone of vexation.  "But I'll see what
I can do in spite of you; there'll be another chance further on."

Dick staggered on as if he were still half-seas-over, gradually
increasing his distance from Ralph till he got alongside his friend Tom.
The latter was in no mood for talking, but he listened eagerly to what
Dick had to say.

"Ay, give the word, and I'm ready," answered Tom, after listening for
some time; "only just help me to get my hands out of limbo."

Dick had managed to liberate his own hands, and it was the work of a
moment to free his companion's, the darkness preventing their guards
from observing them.

They had by this time reached a street close to the water, though at
some distance from where the boats were waiting.  Suddenly the
press-gang were assailed by the wildest shrieks and cries and showers of
abuse, uttered by a number of women and boys, who rushed out from some
narrow courts or other places where they had been concealed.  They did
not confide their attack to words, but, supported by some men, who,
however, kept at a safe distance behind them, they opened a volley of
brickbats and stones at the heads of the sailors.  The latter turned to
defend themselves and drive off their assailants, who nimbly retreated,
when pursued, in all directions, redoubling their shrieks and cries.
The officer, well knowing the object of the attack, shouted to his men
to stand fast; but some amid the din did not understand what he said,
and few were willing to obey his orders.

Tom, whose hands had been freed, tripped up the man nearest him, and
dashed down the street towards the water, followed by two of the
press-gang.

"Now's your time, mate," cried Dick, seizing Ralph by the arm; "come
along."

"I cannot," answered Ralph, firmly; "I promised to remain.  Save
yourself if you can."

"You're a fool then," exclaimed Dick, and, springing past some of the
press-gang attacked by those in front, he dashed through the crowd.  He
was, however, pursued, and quickly brought back.

"Luck's against me, hearties, but I'm not the lad to pipe my eye," he
exclaimed, in a tone of bravado.  "Just give me another chance, and I'll
show you who has the fastest pair of heels."

The sailors laughed at Dick's sally, and thought him a hearty good
fellow, though they did not neglect, for all that, to lash his hands
more securely than at first.

In the meantime Tom had reached the wharf, but finding one side blocked
up, had doubled, in the hope of escaping in another direction, when he
saw two of the press-gang close to him.  Numerous vessels of all sizes
lay in the harbour.  Dread of having to serve on board of a man-of-war
made him desperate.  Without hesitation he plunged into the water, and
swam off, hoping to reach one of the vessels, on board which he might be
received and concealed.  His pursuers, expecting a flogging should he
escape, dashed in after him.  The heads of the three men could scarcely
be discerned when the officer, with the main body, reached the quay.  In
vain he shouted to Tom to return and not to risk his life, while he
ordered some of his men to push off in a boat and overtake the swimmers.
No boat was, however, to be found afloat in the neighbourhood.  Some
were hauled up on a slip, but they were under repair, and no oars were
in them.  The people who had been mobbing the press-gang had collected
on the quay, keeping at a safe distance, and they now uttered cries of
encouragement to Tom to persevere, while they hurled execrations on the
heads of his pursuers; their voices, joined with those of the shouting
seamen, creating the wildest possible uproar.  In a short time the
splash of oars was heard, and a boat was dimly seen at some distance
from the shore.  The officer shouted to the people in her to take his
men on board, but his orders were unheeded.

Almost within hail lay the _Amity_.  Could Ralph once get on board her
he was safe.  At that moment he caught sight of a lad running by.

"Here, boy," he cried out, in spite of the growls of some of the
press-gang near him, "there's a golden guinea for you if you'll get
aboard the _Amity_, tell Captain Mudge that his mate, Ralph Michelmore,
has been pressed, and ask him to bring my protection, which he will find
in my jacket pocket, on board the _Falcon_.  She sails to-morrow early,
so there is no time to be lost; or, if you can get off at once--and you
shall have thirty shillings if you do--he may overtake us before we
reach the boats."

"Trust me, mate," answered the lad, a sharp young mud-larker.  "I should
just like the feel of a little earnest-money, though, to show that I am
not being sent on a fool's errand."

The seamen laughed, and told the boy that such was very likely to be the
case.  Ralph, however, found a crown piece in his pocket.

"Here, my lad," he said, giving it to the boy; "notwithstanding what
they say, I will trust you.  What's your name, that I may know you
again?"

"I'm sometimes called Peter Puddle, and sometimes Muddy Legs, and all
sorts of names, for that matter; but I'm no ways particular."

"Well then, Peter Puddle, be smart about it, and gain the rest of your
reward," said Ralph.

The lad, with a shout of delight, taking the money, ran off, and Ralph
was left in doubt whether or not he would fulfil his commission.

The sailors laughed even more than before.  "It's easy to see who's the
fool now," observed one of them.

The attention of the party was, however, quickly recalled to what was
going forward in the harbour.  The boat before seen could be discerned
dimly in the distance through the gloom, and from the same direction
there came the sound of oars splashing, or people struggling in the
water, and loud cries and shouts mingled with fierce oaths, while now a
piercing cry rang through the night air.  Some of the press-gang were
eager to jump in and swim to their shipmates' assistance, but the
officer forbade them, ordering three or four to make another search for
a boat.  At length the sounds of struggling ceased, but which party had
been defeated it was impossible to ascertain.

The sound of oars in the water was now heard, and a boat was observed
slowly approaching the shore.  She reached at length the jetty near
which the man-of-war's men were standing.  Some of them went down to
meet her, and a shout proclaimed that their shipmates had returned,
though without a prisoner.  The two men were lifted out of the boat, not
having strength to walk.  Their arms and shoulders were fearfully
battered and bruised, and the head of one of them was cut open.  They
had reached the boat, when they were attacked by the men in her with
oars and stretchers, and they would have been drowned had they not got
hold of the gunwale, and, in spite of opposition, clambered on board,
and, after a desperate struggle, turned the occupants out, just at the
moment that another boat came up.  The men, they believed, had been
taken on board her, as had, they supposed, the escaped prisoner; and, at
all events, she had made off and got out of sight.

Followed by a collection of men, women, and boys, still shouting and
hurling abuse at them, the press-gang, moving on, at length reached the
boats.  Ralph and Dick were among the first not over gently hauled on
board; the rest of the captives were as quickly as possible shoved in
after them; a strong party of the press-gang remaining on shore to keep
back the mob, which seemed inclined to make a rush at the last, for the
purpose of rescuing some of their friends.  Their courage, however,
failed them.  The last of the man-of-war's men leaped on board, the
order to shove off was given, and the boats proceeded down the Sound,
followed by the yells and execrations of the people on shore.

"They'll hurt their own throats more than they do us," observed an old
seaman who was pulling at the thwart on which Ralph and Dick sat.  "It's
hard lines, though, you think, for yourselves, mates, I dare say; but
before long you'll be used to a life aboard a man-of-war, and be as
ready to press others as we were to press you."

"Justice is justice; and I shall never think it right to press men
against their will," answered Ralph.  "I, however, hope to be free
to-morrow, as I have a protection which will be brought on board to me."

"Don't count too much on that, mate," said the old sailor; "when they've
got a man, they're not in a mind to let him go.  It's wisest to make the
best of a bad job, and that's what I advise you to do, my hearty."

"If I had only myself to think of, I would," said Ralph, liking the tone
of the old sailor's voice; "but I was to be married next week, and it's
bitter hard to be parted from the girl one loves, and harder for her."
Ralph's voice trembled as he spoke.

"Ay, mate, hard, very hard!" answered the old sailor, in a sympathising
tone; "I know what it is.  I was pressed the very day I had married as
sweet a young girl, and as good too, as an honest man would wish to have
for his wife.  I had five years of it out round the Cape without ever
hearing a word of her, but I knew she would be true to me, and that kept
my heart up.  I got home at last, with plenty of prize-money to set up
house, but she was gone.  They showed me her grave.  It might have been
worse--I know that--still it seemed as if the life had been crushed out
of me.  I left my money with her childless mother, and volunteered
aboard the first ship I heard of fitting out for a foreign station.
From that day to this I've been at sea, turned over from one ship to
another, and never saved a sixpence.  I wish I had.  I'd have got your
discharge, that I would, if money could have done it."

"Thank ye, from the bottom of my heart, old friend," said Ralph, warmly.
"Maybe I shall get my protection paper in time, and be set free."

"Wish I could say I thought so.  But you'll know at least that there's
one aboard the _Falcon_ who can feel for you, and that's something; ay,
and will stand your friend if there's a chance.  Cheer up!  Cheer up!
Here we are, close alongside the frigate."

The pressed men, with Ralph and Dick among them, were sent down to the
lower deck, and placed under charge of a sentry.  They were allowed to
stretch themselves on (as Dick, while bemoaning his fate, remarked) "the
softest planks they could find," for the remainder of the night.

It seemed but a moment after Ralph had at length fallen asleep, that he
heard the boatswain's shrill whistle and the deep rough voices of his
mates rousing up all hands, while the pale light of early morning
streamed down through the hatchways.  The next cry which reached him
was, "Hands aloft; loose sails."  Other orders were issued; he knew too
well their meaning; preparations were being made for immediately putting
to sea.



CHAPTER FOUR.

Poor Jessie had wished at once to hasten on board the _Amity_, to obtain
the assistance of Captain Mudge, and to get Ralph's protection, but her
grandmother persuaded her to remain till the morning, as, not knowing
where Ralph had been carried, she was sure nothing could be done till
then.

Daylight came at length, and Jessie, receiving a loving embrace from her
grandmother, set out.  With a prayer for her safety, Mrs Treviss
watched the young girl, who, like a bird released from its cage, flew
rather than walked, as she made her way in the grey light of the early
morn in the direction of the port.

At last she reached the landing-place, some way off which Ralph had told
her the _Amity_ lay.  There were several boats made fast to the shore,
or moored off it; but no watermen were about.  In vain she looked along
the quays on either hand; no one was stirring.  Here and there, on board
some of the vessels, men were seen just coming up the fore hatchways on
deck, but they were too far off to hear her voice had she called to
them.  She felt ready to give way to tears at the delay, when every
moment might be so precious.  At length she saw, through the veil of
morning mist which still hung over the mirror-like surface of the
harbour, a small boat approaching the landing-place.  A boy was paddling
her at his ease, singing as he slowly dipped his oars in the water.  She
hurried down to meet him, as, standing up, he gave a few more strokes
and brought the boat to shore.

"Well, Miss, what's it you want?" he asked.

"Oh, boy, will you take me off to the _Amity_?" said Jessie.  "She lies
not far away from the shore, and I will pay you well."

"Now that is curious," exclaimed the lad, the same Peter Puddle by name
to whom Ralph had entrusted his important commission.  "I was to have
gone aboard her for a young chap who was pressed last night and had left
his protection behind him, but I got another job and couldn't, though I
am agoing when I've had breakfast."

"Pray take me off at once, for every moment may be of consequence,"
cried Jessie.  "I want to see the captain about the same young man, and
he will, I am sure, give you some breakfast."

"Well, step in, Miss, then," said Peter, offering his hand to help her,
while he kept the boat close to the shore with his boat-hook.  "I
thought might be that the skipper would just hear what I'd got to say,
and then kick me down the side again, as the chances are many I've met
with would do."

"Oh no! no!  Captain Mudge will treat you kindly and reward you for the
trouble you have taken," said Jessie, as Peter began to pull away from
the shore.

"As to trouble, Miss, I can't boast much of that, seeing I didn't go
when I said I would," answered Peter, in a greatly changed tone.  "I
like you, for you speak kindly to me; and I'm sorry I didn't go when I
promised; for, as you say, Miss, there's no time to be lost.  He was
taken aboard the _Falcon_, and she is to sail this morning for the
Indies, so that if he goes in her he won't be back again for many a long
year."

This information increased poor Jessie's agitation and anxiety.
Fortunately, the boat was soon alongside the _Amity_: Peter hailed the
deck.  One of the crew looked over the side, and seeing Jessie, called
the captain, who quickly made his appearance, while in the meantime the
accommodation ladder had been lowered.

"What brings you here at this hour, my dear girl?" he exclaimed, with a
look of anxiety in his countenance as he descended the ladder to help
Jessie up the side.  "Has anything happened to my mate?"

"Oh, yes, Captain Mudge; he has been pressed, and will be carried off to
sea if we do not take him his protection," answered Jessie as she
reached the deck, no longer able to restrain her tears.  "That boy knows
all about it."

Peter Puddle was called up, and gave the message he had received from
Ralph with sufficient clearness.

"No time to be lost indeed," exclaimed the captain.  "Dear me! dear me!
poor Ralph!  We'll make our way down the harbour as fast as sails and
oars will send us along, and save him if we can.  Lower the boat, lads,
and take your breakfasts with you."

Jessie, in spite of her anxiety, did not forget her promise to Peter;
and the captain told him to go forward and get some food, which Toby
Trott, the cabin boy, would give him.  Peter pulled one of his shaggy
locks and hastened to the caboose, where the cook was busy blowing up
the fire, the grey smoke from which had just begun to curl in light
wreaths towards the blue sky.  In the meantime, Jessie accompanied the
captain into the cabin.

"I reminded him to take his protection just as he was going ashore.  He
must have lost it, I fear, on his way," observed the latter.

But Jessie was not so easily convinced of that.  She hurried down to
Ralph's berth, and eagerly put her hand into one of the pockets of his
jacket hanging up inside the door; her countenance fell.  She tried the
other pocket; "Yes, here it is!" she exclaimed in a joyful tone, drawing
out a tin case and examining it.  "Oh, Captain Mudge, let us go with it
at once."

"As soon as you have had a cup of coffee, my dear girl; I cannot let you
start without that," answered the kind old captain.  "Careless fellow!
I am angry with him for giving you so much anxiety; but the fright he
has had will be punishment enough you think, I daresay.  Come, come,
Jessie, don't cry; any man might have done the same.  He just forgot in
his eagerness to see you that he had changed his jacket.--Here comes the
coffee."  The captain poured out a cup for her, but she could only take
a few sips, while he hurriedly swallowed his breakfast.  The boat was
soon ready.  Jessie was handed into her, and the old captain taking his
seat, with four stout hands to row, they shoved off from the vessel's
side.  They had got to a short distance off, when Peter Puddle looked
over the bulwarks.  "'Mind the mate of the sovereign he promised," he
shouted.  "I'll stay aboard till you come back."

"Never fear, lad; you'll get it if he is set free," answered the
captain.

"Oh! he must, he will be freed," cried poor Jessie, who did not like the
captain's "if."

"I hope so, my dear girl, but we must be prepared for disappointment,"
he said, in a soothing tone.  "I have had a good deal in my time, though
I know that God orders all for the best, and He has given me strength to
bear it."  He spoke for some time in the same strain.  "It's still a
dead calm, and the ship cannot sail without a breeze, though all the
Lords of the Admiralty were to order her to get under weigh, that's one
comfort," he continued.  "So cheer up, Jessie, cheer up."  The boat had
got out of the Catwater, and was making good progress down the smooth
waters of the Sound, with its high, richly-wooded shores on either side.
Far ahead, at the entrance of the harbour, lay several ships-of-war and
a fleet of merchantmen.  The topsails of the largest, as well as those
of the merchant vessels, were loosed and hung in the brails, and
Blue-peter was flying from their mast-heads.  It was evident that they
were prepared for sea.  Poor Jessie's anxiety increased.  Now and anon a
catspaw had passed across the mirror-like surface of the water, just
rippling it for an instant, and then leaving it again placid as before.
Others now followed in quick succession.  The sails and flags of the
ships, hitherto hanging listlessly against the masts, began to blow out,
and a vessel close-hauled was seen in the offing, gliding quickly across
the mouth of the harbour.

"Step the mast, lads," said the captain; "we shall feel the breeze
presently, and the canvas will help us along.  Keep the oars going
though."  The sail was quickly hoisted and rigged out with a boat-hook,
while the sheet was passed aft to the captain.  The crew pulled more
lustily than ever, for they saw that the frigate was preparing to sail,
and were eager to rescue their mate, who was beloved by all of them.
The breeze every moment increased.  Poor Jessie, unable to speak from
anxiety, her heart sinking within her, kept her eyes fixed on the ships,
while the captain every now and then bent down to look at them under the
foot of the sail.  "In oars, lads," he said at length, for the boat was
skimming so fast over the water that they were of no further use.  Still
the wind blew stronger and stronger.  They were within half a mile of
the frigate.  The loud sound of a gun fired from her side boomed over
the water; it was followed by another--the signal for weighing.  The
head-sails of the merchantmen were sheeted home, and in quick succession
their bows turned seaward and they glided away from their anchorage.
The _Falcon_ had not yet moved.  They were now so near the frigate that
the men in the tops and on the yards and swarming up the rigging could
clearly be distinguished, while the boatswain's shrill whistle and the
voices of the officers were distinctly heard.  A groan escaped from the
old captain's breast as the head-sails were let fall and sheeted home.
The yards, hitherto backed against the mast, were swung round, and the
huge anchor appeared rising above the water.  Poor Jessie uttered a cry
of grief, for she understood too well that there was now no hope of ever
getting alongside.  At that instant a person was seen to spring into the
main rigging: Jessie held out her hands to him--it was Ralph.  He must
have recognised the boat as she approached.  He waved a farewell to
Jessie.  No words reached her ear; but she saw, or fancied that she saw,
his lips moving.  Standing up, she seemed as if about to spring towards
her intended husband, but the old captain holding her back, she uttered
a piercing cry and sank down senseless in his arms.  He could not tell
whether Ralph had seen what had happened; he had indeed enough to do in
attending to Jessie and steering the boat.  Recollecting the protection,
he held up the case containing it; but it was unnoticed, or at all
events unheeded.  He heard one of his seamen remark, "Now's his time!
If he was to slip overboard and swim to us, we'd pick him up fast
enough, and they'd not heave-to to send after him."  The sailors in the
boat beckoned eagerly to Ralph, who could not have misunderstood their
signals.  The temptation to him must have been very great; but whether
or not he intended to make the attempt they could not tell, for at that
moment three men sprang into the rigging and he was dragged down on deck
out of sight.

Happily for Jessie, she did not see what had occurred.  The ship had
paid off before the wind and was rapidly gathering way: her after-sails
were let fall, her topgallant sails hoisted, and under a crowd of canvas
she majestically glided out of the Sound.

The boat had got a considerable way up the harbour before Jessie gave
signs of returning consciousness.  The old captain sat watching her with
the affectionate care of a father.  With a deep sigh she at length
recovered, and a flood of tears relieved her aching heart.  She turned
her eyes seaward and gazed long and steadfastly at the proud ship which
bore Ralph away, till the man-of-war could no longer be distinguished
from the crowd of other vessels which surrounded her.  The good old
captain could fully sympathise with her in her grief, for he himself
felt very sad at having his mate, whom he loved as a son, taken so
unjustly away from him.

As the boat passed the _Amity_, Peter Puddle looked over the side and
hailed, "Haven't you got the mate in?"

The captain shook his head.

"Then I've lost my guinea," cried Peter; "but I mind more about the
mate, that I do."

"Never mind your guinea, lad.  I'll see after you.  Stay on board till I
come back," answered the captain.

They soon reached the shore.  Captain Mudge insisted on escorting Jessie
home, for he could not bring himself to leave her till he had seen her
safe with her grandmother, who would, he fancied, comfort her better
than he could.  On reaching home, Jessie, throwing herself into her
granny's arms, gave way to her tears.

"It will do her good, and Ralph won't find fault with her when he hears
of it," observed the old captain.  "Fine young man, that mate of mine,
Mrs Treviss.  He's a great loss to me, no doubt about that; but it may
turn out for his good after all.  Shouldn't be surprised, as I said to
Jessie just now, if he was to come back an officer in his Majesty's
Service.  He'd not be the first pressed man who has risen to be an
admiral.  We can all pray for him too, you know, Mrs Treviss; and
that's a great comfort, isn't it?"

Jessie in a short time became calm again, and even looked up and smiled
at her kind old friend.  Captain Mudge had a good deal of business to
attend to, so after a short chat, promising to return soon to see how
they were getting on, he took his departure.



CHAPTER FIVE.

The _Falcon_ sailed down Channel with her convoy of merchantmen.  She
was to see them safe across the Atlantic to different ports in the West
Indies, and then to proceed on her voyage to the East.

Early in the morning, Ralph, with the other pressed men, had been sent
up on deck and their names duly entered in the ship's books.  Still he
had a lingering hope that Captain Mudge would come off in time with the
protection.  How cruelly that hope was disappointed has been seen.  With
intense anxiety he had watched for the boat: he had seen her at length
approaching.  Already the capstan had been manned, and the men were
tramping round against the pawls, the fifes playing merrily, to run the
anchor up to the bows.  While stationed at the fore-topsail braces, as
he looked through a port he had recognised Jessie in the _Amity's_ boat.
The temptation to bid her farewell was greater than he could resist.
The brace was belayed: he sprang into the rigging that Jessie might see
him.  A midshipman observing the boat, and thinking that he was about to
spring overboard to her, ordered him to be seized, and suddenly he found
himself dragged down on deck and placed under charge of the
master-at-arms for attempting to desert.

Ralph had now more reason than ever to be cast down.  The offence with
which he was charged was a serious one, yet the consciousness that he
had no intention of committing it supported him.  For long he was kept
in suspense, while the ship with her attendant merchantmen was making an
offing from the land before shaping a course down Channel.  At length he
was conducted between two marines to the quarter-deck, where Captain
Shortland and his officers were standing and a large portion of the crew
were assembled.

"I must have you understand, my lads, that I intend to maintain strict
discipline on board this ship.  I shall have an eye on those who do
their duty, and on those who neglect it.  I never forgive an offence,
and shall severely punish drunkenness, insubordination, and desertion,
or attempt at desertion: and I intend to make an example of the man who
was, I am informed, about to try to desert from the ship."  And the
captain looked at Ralph, who stood between his guards.  All eyes were
turned towards him.  "What is his name?" asked the captain of the first
lieutenant.  On being told, he continued, "Ralph Michelmore, after
having entered as one of this ship's company, you were about to desert
to a boat which had come off to receive you, and I shall give you two
dozen lashes as a warning to yourself and others for the future."

"I had no intention of deserting, sir," answered Ralph, firmly.  "The
boat brought off the master of the brig to which I belong, with my
protection, and I could easily have slipped through a port had I wished
it."

"And I can say, sir, that Ralph Michelmore speaks the truth.  He's an
old shipmate of mine, and I never heard him tell the shadow of a lie,"
said Dick Bracewell, stepping aft and doffing his hat.  "He could have
made his escape before he was brought aboard if he'd had a mind to do
it, but he wouldn't because he'd passed his word that he'd stay quiet,
and the officer who pressed us knows it and can say so if he likes."

The old mate who had commanded the press-gang, and was now attending to
his duties on the lower deck, was sent for, and at once corroborated
what Dick had said, explaining at the same time the circumstances of
Ralph's capture.

"I believe you, and you may return to your duty," said the captain,
looking at Ralph.  "For your sake I am sorry that you were pressed,
though I am glad to have got so smart a seaman as you appear to be; and
if you turn out as I expect, you may have no reason to regret that you
were compelled to join this ship.  Pipe down."

The men went below or forward to their respective duties.

"Well, my lad," said the old sailor who had spoken to Ralph in the boat,
coming up to him, "I'm right glad you've got out of that scrape, and, as
I said afore, if ever you want a friend you'll find Jacob Crane a
staunch one.  I can feel for you, lad; I can feel for you."

"Thank you, Jacob," answered Ralph, putting out his hand to grasp that
of the speaker, who wrung his heartily.

"Have you ever before served in a King's ship?" asked Jacob.

"No, I have never so much as been on board one before," said Ralph.

"Then I can be of use to you in putting you up to a thing or two," said
old Jacob, and forthwith he began to explain the way in which the duty
was carried on.

Ralph listened attentively, and made such good use of the knowledge he
had gained that he was able from the first to do his duty as well as any
one.  He was fortunately stationed at the gun of which Jacob was
captain, and the old sailor took pains to instruct him in handling it.
Naval gunnery not being in those days the art it has since become he was
soon a proficient.

"How, my lad, came you to say that you have never before served on board
a man-of-war?" asked the first lieutenant one day, observing his
activity.

"Nor have I, sir," answered Ralph, touching his hat.  "I never handled a
gun before I joined this ship."

"You do very well, then, and may look out for a higher rating before
long," observed Mr Handsel, passing on.

This remark somewhat raised Ralph's spirits.  The captain himself had
observed his activity and neat appearance, and the thorough way in which
he did everything to which he put his hand.  One day the signalman was
on the sick-list.  The post is a responsible one when a number of ships
are sailing in company, as a watch has to be kept on the whole fleet and
signals constantly made and answered.  The captain sent for Ralph, and
after a few questions directed him to attend to the duty.  He performed
it with his usual attention and intelligence.  It kept him also on the
quarter-deck and under the eyes of the officers.  As is customary, the
midshipmen assembled under the master each day at noon and at other
periods with their sextants or quadrants to take observations.  Some of
the younger ones Ralph remarked handled their instruments rather
clumsily, and evidently did not understand their use.

"I say, Dickenson, for the life of me I cannot manage to shoot the old
sun with this thing, it only puts my eyes out; and yesterday again my
day's work was all wrong somehow or other," said Mr Paul Chandos, a
youngster who had just come to sea, to another midshipman who had also
not been many months in the Navy.

"I'm sure I can't help you," answered Dickenson, a gawky lad, with a
hopeless glance at his quadrant.  "It seems a very useless expenditure
of our valuable eyesight when it's the proper business of the master,
and those fellows the master's assistants, to find out whereabouts the
ship is."

"Still, I should like to know how to use this thing properly, for the
captain is sure to find out if I don't; and besides, some day I may have
command of a vessel, and I should look very foolish if I didn't know how
to find my way in her," said young Chandos, putting the quadrant to his
eye and imitating the master, who with the rest of the midshipmen stood
at some distance off.

"It will be so long before either of us have that chance that I don't
intend to trouble myself about the matter," answered the other
midshipman, swinging his quadrant backwards and forwards as if he felt
inclined to throw it overboard.  Still Chandos persevered.

"If you like, I shall be happy to show you how to take an observation,
and the way to work it out," said Ralph, touching his hat, though he
felt more compassion than respect for the youngster.

"I wish you would, Michelmore," answered young Chandos, in a grateful
tone; "I have been bothering away day after day and haven't liked to ask
any one."

Ralph took the quadrant, and having first placed it to his own eye, made
Chandos hold it while he showed him how to use it, and to watch for the
moment when the lower edge of the sun seemed to touch the horizon before
it rose again.

"There--there--I never saw it do that before," exclaimed the young
midshipman.  "Thank you, Michelmore, you are a good fellow: and now just
work it out for me in this pocket-book, will you?"

Ralph, having in the meantime taken a glance round at the different
ships of the fleet, very rapidly in a few figures did as requested.

It happened that the captain had just before come on deck, and,
unnoticed, was an observer of the scene.  He had remarked, too, the way
in which Ralph had assisted the youngster without neglecting his proper
duty.  The master and his assistants, with the rest of the midshipmen,
had taken their instruments below when he went aft to where Ralph was
standing.  "I see, Michelmore, you know how to take a meridional
observation," he observed.  "Do you understand much of navigation?"

"I take an interest in the study, sir, and am considered a fair
navigator," answered Ralph, modestly.

"Have you made many voyages?" asked the captain.

"Several, sir, up the Mediterranean, to Lisbon, Madeira, and the Baltic,
as mate," said Ralph.

"You consider yourself competent, then, to navigate a vessel in any part
of the world," observed the captain, after a short pause.

"Yes, sir; I should have no fears as to the correctness of my
observations," answered Ralph, modestly, though he spoke with
confidence.

"I will consider what can be done, and will not lose sight of you,"
observed the captain, walking away.

There were grumblers and discontented men, as there are on board most
ships.  Dick Bracewell was among them.  He soon got tired of the strict
discipline, grumbled at being compelled to turn out neatly-dressed and
clean, and at being only allowed to smoke his pipe at certain times and
in one part of the ship, and more than all at having his grog stopped,
or being compelled to drink it mixed with nine parts of water when he
had neglected his duties or broken through any regulations, as was not
unfrequently the case.  Having had a good deal of money in his pocket
when pressed, he was able to buy from others their allowance of grog.

At length, one evening when Ralph went below, to his sorrow he found his
old shipmate unusually uproarious, now singing and shouting, now ready
to quarrel and fight with any one who interfered with him.  Ralph was
doing his best to get him to sit down quietly by himself, when the
hammocks were piped below and the men sprang up on deck to bring them
down from the hammock-nettings.  "I'm off for mine," cried Dick, getting
on his legs and staggering along the deck.  "I look as sober as a judge,
whatever I may be, though I feel very jolly."  Ralph tried to stop him,
but Dick, breaking from his friend, scrambled up the ladder, shouting
out, "I'm a free man, and no one shall stop me from doing what I
choose."  His shouts drew the attention of one of the officers towards
him.  He was ordered aft with his hammock, carrying which, he went
staggering along till he rolled over with it on the deck.  In vain he
tried to get on his feet, so he lay still, with just enough
consciousness left to know that he was in a sad scrape, without a chance
of getting out of it till his back and the cat had become acquainted.
The officer of the watch, knowing that it would be useless to speak to
him, sent for two marines, between whom he was taken below and forthwith
placed in irons, thus to remain till he had recovered his senses.  The
inevitable consequence followed.  The next morning Dick received two
dozen lashes as a punishment for drunkenness.

Dick, who had been one of the merriest fellows on board, now became
morose and surly, even to his best friends; and as the men were afraid
of selling him their liquor, he could not drown his care, as he would
have tried to do had he been able.  "Don't talk to me, Ralph," he said
one day when his old shipmate was trying to arouse him to a better state
of mind.  "I'm determined to take French leave, and you're not the man I
think you, if you try to stop me."

"I have always been your friend, Dick, and I should prove that I am so
still if I prevented you from doing a mad thing, which would be sure to
bring you into a worse condition than you are now.  You would, most
probably, be retaken, or should you escape, you would to a certainty get
drunk, spend all your money, and be left a beggar in a strange land."

"I've a notion that I can take as good care of myself as you, or any
other man, though you have been mate of the _Amity_, and expect some day
to walk the quarter-deck of this ship," answered Dick, with a scornful
laugh, his old feeling of envy of Ralph reviving in his mind.  "I shall
have to touch my hat and `sir' you, while you top the officer over me.
Ha! ha! ha!"

Ralph had some time before, while in friendly converse, somewhat
incautiously, perhaps, expressed his hopes to Dick, who then seemed
cordially to sympathise with him.  He felt hurt at Dick's remark, though
not the less anxious to serve him.  Before he could reply the
boatswain's whistle was heard, and the crew were piped on deck to muster
at divisions.

No one was allowed to be idle on board.  The men were constantly
exercised at the guns, or in the use of the small arms, or in shortening
and making sail, the frigate sometimes dropping astern to whip up the
laggards, then crowding on again to recover her former position in the
van of the fleet.  Ralph was now regularly employed as a signalman.
While he was thus constantly on the quarter-deck, not only young
Chandos, but several of the other midshipmen, were glad to get his
assistance in taking observations and in working out their day's work.
The master was glad to be relieved of the trouble of instructing them,
and the captain was pleased to encourage the young man and to give him
an opportunity of keeping up his knowledge.

Old Jacob Crane also congratulated him on his good prospects.  "I'm glad
to think on't, lad," he said, in a hearty tone.  "You've the right stuff
in you, and you've what's better than all, a firm trust in God, and a
wish to do your duty in His sight.  You'll do well wherever you are.
I've never seen men like you fail."

"In saying that you unjustly condemn yourself, I suspect," observed
Ralph.

"No, not unjustly," answered Jacob.  "I did not understand that truth in
my younger days, and only learned it of late years, when too late to do
much towards altering my condition among my fellow-men.  Mind, I don't
say that I'm not much the better for it even now, for I'm happy and
contented and fear no evil; but I remember what the Bible says, `Honour
thy Creator in the days of thy youth.'  Those who do not, have bitterly
to regret it when they grow old, even though they then learn to know and
serve Him.  The sins of our youth find us out, there is no doubt about
that; and I envy you, Michelmore, who will not have to look back to the
many misspent years that I do."

It was now Ralph's part to direct his friend to the only sure source of
comfort--God's loving message to man, as found in His Word, "The blood
of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin," when by loving obedient faith
the sinner takes hold of the promises.  Thus the one assisted the other.
Ralph indeed required support.  Jessie was never out of his mind.  Her
granny was old and infirm, and might soon be taken from her; and then,
should Captain Mudge be away, what would she do?  "She has not, that I
know of, dear girl, a friend on whom she can depend," thought Ralph.
"Yes, she and I have one in heaven on Whom we both rely.  To Him I will
pray for her, as she will, I know, for me."  Earnestly and faithfully
Ralph did pray, and he did not fail to obtain that answer which true
prayer always receives.  He was supported, and his heart comforted.

The fleet was now approaching Jamaica, and Ralph was more actively than
ever engaged in making and answering signals.  Port-Royal, to which most
of the ships were bound, was reached at length, when another man-of-war
took charge of the rest to escort them to their destinations.

Dick had not concealed from those he could trust his intention of
deserting.  Ralph had done his utmost to dissuade him from his foolish
intentions, and though he would not inform the officers, he determined
to keep a watch over his friend and stop him if he could.  A boat, which
came alongside directly the frigate dropped anchor, brought the news
that the yellow fever was raging on shore, with orders that no one
should leave the ship.

"You have lost your chance, Dick, and I am glad of it," said Ralph.

"Not so sure of that," answered Dick; "I'm a pretty good swimmer, and
can make my way on shore if I've a mind for it."

"Don't be so mad, Dick, as even to think of such a thing," said Ralph.
"Haven't you heard of Port-Royal Jack, the big shark?  He will be sure
to catch you if you make the attempt."

Dick looked incredulous, but the accounts he heard from his other
shipmates of the number of people Port-Royal Jack had swallowed made him
hesitate about putting his resolve into execution.

The next day the frigate, having taken in fresh provisions and water,
put to sea, and Ralph hoped that Dick would be in a better mind before
they again entered a port.



CHAPTER SIX.

The _Falcon_ had got some way to the south of the Line.  Ralph was now a
quartermaster, a position in which only seamen of merit and experience
are placed.

It was night, and unusually dark for that latitude.  A gentle breeze
filled the frigate's canvas as she glided over the calm ocean with the
wind on the larboard quarter.  Ralph was in the watch on deck, stationed
near the man at the helm.  Now he glanced his eyes aloft to ascertain
that the sails drew properly, now at the binnacle to see that the proper
course was kept; then he took a look on either side round the horizon.

Ralph had turned his eyes to the south-east, when he observed a vivid
flash.  It looked like lightning.  Another and another flash followed in
quick succession.  He made his report to the officer of the watch.  The
flashes continued.  There could be no doubt about the matter, an action
was taking place.  A midshipman was sent to inform the captain.  As soon
as he came on deck all hands were called and the yards braced up, a
course was steered which would carry the frigate to windward of the
combatants.  There could be no doubt one of them was English and if the
smaller of the two, the appearance of the _Falcon_ would probably turn
the tables.  In the meantime the drums beat to quarters and the usual
preparations were rapidly made for battle.  Till near enough for the
night-signals to be distinguished it was important that their approach
should not be discovered, as it was as likely to discourage a friend as
to overawe a foe, or what was of more consequence, might induce a foe to
try and escape.  All lights on board were therefore carefully shaded as
the frigate stood on towards the combatants.  Suddenly the flashes
ceased: still, as the bearing of the strangers had been taken, there
would be no difficulty in discovering them.  The crew of the _Falcon_
waited in vain for a renewal of the flashes.  The fight was over.  Which
was the victor was the question.  Ralph heard the subject discussed by
the officers on the quarter-deck.  They expressed their fears that there
would be no fighting.

"An English ship would not have given in so soon," observed the first
lieutenant.

"Not unless she is the smallest," answered the purser, who was addicted
to croaking.

"Then we shall have the satisfaction of retaking her and thrashing her
captor into the bargain," said Mr Handsel.

"But what if her captor is bigger than we are?" asked the purser.

"Thrash him notwithstanding," said the first lieutenant, laughing.

"It is possible that more than two vessels were engaged," remarked the
captain.  "We shall know, however, before long.  Have the night-signals
ready, Mr Handsel.  We must take care not to fire into a friend."

The excitement on board increased as the frigate, moving at the rate of
two or three knots an hour, drew near the spot where it was expected
that the strangers would be discovered.  The men stood at their guns
prepared to open the ports and run them out when the order should be
given.  The magazines were open and powder and shot passed up.  The
surgeon and his assistants were below in the cockpit, making their
arrangements for the duties they might have to perform; looking to their
instruments, their bandages and styptics, and rigging their
amputation-table.

"How do you feel, Paul?" asked Dickenson of young Chandos.  "If we could
see the enemy I shouldn't mind; but, for my part, I don't like this sort
of work in the dark, I confess."

"I was thinking of home and my mother and sisters," answered Chandos.
"I used to long to be in a battle, and I should be sorry to miss it, but
I wish it was over.  I would rather have to look back at it than
forward."

"So would I, provided I hadn't lost an arm or a leg or been killed
outright," said Dickenson, in a dolorous tone.

"I haven't thought about being killed, and I hope that neither you nor I
will be," answered Chandos; adding, "I shouldn't mind, perhaps, a bullet
through my arm or leg for the honour and glory of the thing, and to talk
about when we get home."

"I'm sure I don't want any such honour and glory, and I wish you
wouldn't speak about such things," groaned out Dickenson.  "Perhaps we
shan't have a fight after all."

"I hope we shall, though," exclaimed his more plucky messmate; "that is
to say if it does not last too long.  I could hold out for an hour or
so, but then I think I should begin to wish it was over."

"Beg pardon, young gentlemen; you'd hold out better after the first hour
than for the first five minutes," observed old Jacob Crane, who had
overheard the conversation.  "Just let us exchange a couple of
broadsides and you'd think no more about the matter than if you were
snowballing each other.  I know the stuff you're made of too well to
doubt that."

"Thank you, Crane, for the compliment," said Chandos; "but do you think
we shall have a fight?"

"Sure on't," answered the old man; "just look out over the larboard bow
and you'll see three ships hove to, and some bright lights in the stern
of the biggest of them.  She's a lumping frigate if she isn't something
larger, and though our signal has been hoisted some time she hasn't
answered it."

The midshipmen, whose eyes were not so well accustomed to pierce the
gloom of night as were old Jacob's, had at first some difficulty in
distinguishing the three ships, though they saw the bright lights he
pointed out.  Gradually the frigate drew near, and the tall masts and
widespread canvas of the strangers appeared clearly enough against the
sky, like large phantoms stalking across the waters.  Still the private
signal remained unanswered.  There could be no longer any doubt that the
largest ship was an enemy, and that she had captured one or both of the
others.  Notwithstanding her apparent superiority, Captain Shortland did
not hesitate about attacking her.  Sail was shortened, and the frigate
stood on with topsails, jib, and spanker set, so as to be thoroughly
under command.  It was no longer necessary to keep the ports closed.
The order to open them and to run out the guns was given, and at the
same time the crews of the guns were cautioned not to fire a shot till
they heard the word of command.  The hearts of the coolest beat quicker
than usual when about midnight the _Falcon_ drew within a mile of the
enemy.  The lights from the fighting lanterns of the latter, which
exhibited two rows of ports, with only a small space between them, gave
her a most formidable appearance.  She evidently carried many more guns
than the English frigate.

"What's the odds, lads," cried old Jacob, when some of the men near him
remarked this.  "It isn't the number of guns a ship carries will give
her the victory, it's the way they are fought, and we'll soon show the
mounseers how we can handle ours."

In a short time the enemy filled his sails, the two ships thus nearing
each other more rapidly; then suddenly he hove in stays when on the lee
bow of the _Falcon_, and his guns thundering forth, sent their shot
flying through her rigging, the only serious effect, however, of which
was to bring down her jib.  The _Falcon_ crew stood ready, the captains
of the guns with lanyards in hand eager to fire in return, but no order
came.  Captain Shortland knew that he could depend on the steadiness of
his crew, and was reserving their fire for a shorter and more effective
distance.  Several more shots hurtled through the air around them.

"The weathermost of the smaller ships Is firing at us, sir," observed
the first lieutenant to the captain.

"Never mind that, we can settle with her by-and-by," was the answer.

Thus the _Falcon_ stood majestically on as if not a foe were near.

Though Ralph had never before seen a shot fired in anger, he stood at
his post close to the wheel as calm and collected as the oldest seaman.

The eager crew had not much time to wait, before, by a clever manoeuvre,
the frigate had been brought with her starboard broadside to bear
directly on the stern of the French ship at less than pistol-shot
distance.  At the same moment the order to fire was passed along the
decks and rapidly obeyed.  Every shot went crashing into the French
ship, raking her fore and aft, and probably killing the men at the
wheel; for before she had time to alter her position the _Falcon_ luffed
into the wind, just scraping clear of her spanker-boom, and shooting up
to leeward, let fly the whole of her other broadside with terrible
effect into her opponent.  So rapidly had this manoeuvre of the English
frigate been performed, that several of the Frenchman's weather guns
went off after she had passed to leeward.  The action was now carried on
broadside to broadside, the position in which British seamen most
delight.

"Aim low, my lads! aim low!" was the oft repeated order of the officers
in charge of the guns, as they moved along the decks; not that there was
much necessity for it, as the men had got a good mark before them, and
were pounding away at it as fast as they could load and run out their
guns.  The Frenchmen were at the same time vigorously returning their
fire, but as if intent on crippling their foe and then taking her at a
disadvantage, they sent most of their shot flying through her rigging,
bringing blocks and spars and ropes in thick showers down on deck.
Though most of the enemy's shot flew high, others came whizzing between
the men's heads, crashing into the sides of the frigate, or knocking
away her bulwarks.  Several of the crew had been wounded and carried
below, but as yet two only had been killed, their bodies being drawn
aside, when it was found that they were really dead, out of the way of
their shipmates at the guns.  Hitherto Ralph had escaped unhurt, though
the head of one of the men at the wheel close to him had been taken off
by a round shot, and an officer near him had been struck to the deck.
By the lurid glare from the quick succeeding flashes and the light of
the lanterns, he caught a glimpse of Dick working away manfully at one
of the upper deck guns, he, like most of the crew, stripped to the
waist, with a handkerchief tied round his head.  Now he was visible, now
he was concealed by the clouds of smoke which, circling round and then
rising in the air, formed a dark canopy over the combatants.  Young
Chandos was not far off.  Whatever might have been his sensations at
first, he was collected enough now to attend steadily to his duty, and
the work going on was a pretty severe trial to young nerves.  The
midnight battle raged fiercer and fiercer.  A shot came flying by.
Ralph felt that he was hit severely in the arm, and was compelled to
summon another man to the wheel; but binding up his wounded limb, he
stood as before at his post.  Not many minutes afterwards a round shot
struck the bulwarks, sending splinters flying in every direction.  At
the same moment Ralph, who had his eye on the captain, saw him stagger,
and springing forward, caught him with his unwounded arm just as he was
falling to the deck.  Others gathered round.  It was evident that he had
been most seriously wounded.  In vain he endeavoured to speak, but
becoming senseless was carried below.  Lieutenant Handsel at once took
the command, making his clear voice, as he issued his orders, heard amid
the wild din of battle.  For an hour and a half the engagement had raged
on and yet was as furious as ever.  The lieutenant of marines, a tall,
handsome young man, was cut almost in two by a round shot soon after the
captain had fallen, and several more men were hit.  Aloft, however, the
damage was far more severe than on deck; the running rigging hung in
festoons, the standing rigging was cut to pieces, every sail was riddled
through and through, and the masts and yards were badly wounded in many
places.  Judging by the crashing sound which came back from the French
ship after each broadside fired by the _Falcon_, and the white splinters
which flew from every part of her upper works, she was in a still worse
plight.  Still her crew kept up a hot fire.  The young midshipmen, and
even others, might possibly have begun to wish that the battle was over.

"Keep at it, my lads!" was the cry passed along the decks; "she'll soon
give in."

Broadsides had been exchanged: another proceeded from the _Falcon_; but
none came in return.

"Cease firing!" cried Lieutenant Handsel; and as soon as all was silent
he hailed the enemy and asked if she had struck.  No reply was made.
Again the _Falcon_ opened fire; but as the Frenchmen did not return it,
she at once ceased, and a second time the lieutenant hailed, but no
answer was made.

"We must give them more of it!" he shouted.

At that instant, the smoke clearing away, it was seen that the rigging
of the French ship was swarming with men, who were endeavouring to loose
their topgallant sails, apparently with the intention of escaping.  Some
of the crew of the _Falcon_ were ordered aloft to set theirs while the
rest let fly another thundering broadside.  Before the Frenchmen had
time to descend, the mizenmast of their ship fell over the side, and
several must have been plunged into the water; not a minute afterwards
the main-mast, fore-mast, and bowsprit followed, and she lay a helpless
wreck on the ocean.

Loud cheers burst from the throats of the British crew, and hearty
shakes of the hand were exchanged among them.  Before the question was
asked, a voice came from the French ship, crying out that she had
struck, and entreating that the English frigate would not again fire.

"No fear of that," was the answer; "what ship is she?"

"The French frigate _Concorde_," replied the officer who spoke.  "Send a
boat, I pray, for we have none left."

Three boats which had escaped injury were instantly lowered, and Mr
Handsel, not aware that Ralph was wounded, ordered him to go in one of
them.  When he reached the deck of the prize, such a scene of horror as
he had scarcely imagined met his sight.  The boats, booms, the wheel,
capstern, binnacle, and indeed all the upper portions of the ship, were
cut to pieces; the bulwarks were destroyed and the starboard side almost
beaten in, while the decks, slippery with gore, were literally strewn
with the dead and badly wounded.  The French captain, two lieutenants,
several junior officers, and fully sixty men were killed, and two other
lieutenants and eighty men were wounded.  A young officer with his arm
in a sling, who by the death of his superior had succeeded to the
command, presented his sword in token of submission to the third
lieutenant of the _Falcon_.  It was at once returned to him with a
compliment to his bravery and an expression of sympathy, and an
assistant-surgeon was sent for from the _Falcon_ to attend to the
sufferers.  Ralph was the first person the young man spoke to on coming
on board.

"You are hurt, Michelmore," he said, in a friendly tone; "I must look to
you at once;" and by the light of a lantern he dressed Ralph's arm,
which greatly needed care.  "I fear that our good captain is mortally
wounded; but he has not forgotten you, for as soon as he came to himself
he ordered his clerk to make out your appointment as a midshipman and
signed it, though he could scarcely hold a pen.  You'll come in for your
share of prize-money as such, and be placed on the quarter-deck; so I'll
congratulate you, my lad.  There, now you'll do; but I must get you sent
on board again, you're not fit for work here."

Ralph very unwillingly obeyed the order he received to return to the
_Falcon_.  When he had reached her he would not even then go below; but
though he was unable to handle a rope, having reported himself to Mr
Handsel, he received directions to superintend a party of men in
refitting the rigging.  There was work indeed for every one; for though
the _Falcon_ had suffered less than her antagonist, her masts and spars,
wounded in various places, required to be fished and the standing
rigging to be spliced, to enable her to make sail and go in chase of the
two other ships just before captured by the _Concorde_.  Happily it fell
perfectly calm; and thus, while the prizes could not escape, time was
obtained for repairing damages.  There was not a moment to be lost, for
every one knew that should a breeze spring up before the rigging had
been set to rights, the tottering masts would to a certainty go over the
side.



CHAPTER SEVEN.

Daylight found the _Falcon's_ crew still hard at work, the prisoners on
board the _Concorde_ being assisted by the English seamen taken out of
the two merchant vessels.  The latter were South Sea whalers, furnished,
as was not unusual in those days, with letters of marque, and returning
home from round Cape Horn with full cargoes and a considerable amount of
booty.  They lay, their sails all set, about two miles off, waiting for
a breeze to make their escape.  Their masters, who had been found as
prisoners on board the _Concorde_, were eager to attempt their recovery,
and offered to man the _Falcons_ boats with their crews, and to lead an
expedition against them.  Mr Handsel, however, at first considered that
it would be extremely hazardous, and he could not spare the necessary
number of men for the enterprise.  So busy were all hands that no
inquiries had been made about the killed and wounded.  Few perhaps even
thought of their shipmates writhing in agony below.  The voices of
several officers wont to be heard were silent, and not a few of their
messmates were missed from among them.  At length there was a rumour
that their brave captain was even worse hurt than was at first
supposed--it was soon whispered that he was dying--and then came the
news that he was dead.  Many a tear was dropped from the eyes of his
hardy crew, which the loss of their own messmates had failed to draw
forth.  But there was no time to express their sorrow.  All hands had to
work on as hard as ever.  The carpenters, having secured the masts and
spars, were busy with the boats.  Mr Handsel at length determined to
send an expedition to recapture the whalers, which, fortunately lying
rather more than a mile apart, could not assist each other.  Ralph
offered to go in one of the boats; as it was his left arm which was
wounded, he could steer or handle a cutlass with his right.

"Yes, you will go in charge of the gig as an officer; Mr Symonds will
take command of the expedition in the pinnace; the masters of the
whalers will go in the other boats: should Mr Symonds fall, the command
will devolve on you," said Mr Handsel.  Mr Symonds was a master's
mate; one of the lieutenants being wounded and the other on board the
_Concorde_, he was the next in rank able to go.  Four boats were quickly
in the water, the last nail being driven in by the carpenter as they
were being lowered.  Their crews were armed with pistols and cutlasses.
It was resolved to attack the nearest vessel first; and as she was said
to be the fastest sailer, should she be captured, it was hoped that the
other would be quickly overtaken.  Old Jacob and Dick were with Ralph.
The boats shoved off from the ship's side and pulled for the nearest
whaler.  As they approached she opened a hot fire, on which Mr Symonds
ordered them to keep apart and to steer for her stern.  One of the
masters in charge of the pinnace did not hear the order.  Ralph saw that
she was struck several times.  Mr Symonds's boat also suffered.  He
with the second cutter dashed on, the others following: one boarded on
each quarter.  The Frenchmen had to quit their guns and to defend
themselves with pikes and pistols, but their assailants quickly swarmed
on board, Ralph, in spite of his wounded arm, getting up the side with
Jacob's assistance.  The fight on deck was short.  The prize-crew gave
way, and in three minutes the English were in possession of the ship.
Ralph looked round for Mr Symonds.  He lay dead in the stern of his
boat, and Ralph found himself in command of the prize.  The master of
the whaler just captured was also killed.  The other was badly wounded,
and several of their men had fallen.  Having secured the prisoners and
released the crew below, he ordered the boats to tow ahead towards the
other whaler.  As they approached she opened her fire, but by steering
to the eastward he kept directly ahead of her, out of range of her guns.
Getting still nearer, he brought his broadside to bear on her, when the
Frenchmen, to avoid the consequences, hauled down their colours.  She
was quickly taken possession of, when the prize-crew were secured and
the Englishmen remaining on board were released.  As each vessel had six
boats they in a short time were towed near to the _Falcon_.  As they
approached they were received with a loud cheer, and Mr Handsel ordered
Ralph to take command of the first re-captured, the _Eagle_, and to send
all the hands he could spare to assist in refitting the _Concorde_ and
setting up jury-masts.  Of the other vessel, the _Penguin_, her only
surviving mate took charge; for both had fought bravely, and had not
struck till after a long chase, and when several officers and men had
fallen.  Both vessels had also so severely suffered in hull and rigging,
that it would have been dangerous without undergoing repairs to proceed
on their voyage.

Lieutenant Handsel therefore determined to proceed with all the ships to
Rio de Janeiro, the nearest port in the Brazils.  Ralph could scarcely
believe that he was not in a dream when he thus found himself in command
of a fine ship, with the probability of having to navigate her home.
Should, however, a fitting man be obtained at Rio to take charge of her,
he would be superseded and have to return to the _Falcon_.  He naturally
hoped that no one would be forthcoming.  He should then realise his
fondest hopes--be united to Jessie--with a good sum from his prize-money
and pay as captain of the _Eagle_ with which to set up house.  He might
then rejoin the navy as an officer, or obtain his discharge, or go back
to the _Amity_, should Captain Mudge wish him to do so.  "I will not be
ungrateful to my kind old friend, though I suspect that Jessie would
wish me to remain in the service; and though I entered unwillingly, I
should now be sorry to leave it," he thought.  "Perhaps I may rise still
higher--others have done so--why should not I, if I do my duty, and my
life is preserved?"

Ralph quickly got accustomed to his new position.  His scanty crew
acknowledged that they had never had a better captain.  They were kept
of necessity at work, but he made that work as light as possible by
setting them to do it in the best way it could be done, and only
ordering them to do what was absolutely required.  Sailors, as indeed is
the case with most classes of men, are very quick in discovering when
they have an efficient officer placed over them who knows his duty.
Insubordination and mutiny are generally the consequences rather of the
ignorance and sloth of the captain than of tyranny.

Fortunately, the calm continued.  The decks were washed clean of their
bloody stains; the dead were committed to their ocean graves, and their
shipmates, if they did not forget, soon ceased to talk about them.
Jury-masts were rigged on board the _Concorde_, and a breeze at length
springing up, the four ships, thus partially repaired, made sail for
Rio.

Old Jacob and Dick had accompanied Ralph on board the _Eagle_.  It was
an unfortunate circumstance for the latter.  Spirits were more easily
obtained than on board the frigate, and he very soon became quarrelsome
and mutinous.  Ralph, not observing his state, had directed him to
perform some duty.

"Not for you, or any man like you.  You, who were before the mast only
yesterday--you think you can top the officer over me, do you?  I told
you I wouldn't stand it, and I won't," exclaimed Dick, reeling about and
flourishing his arms as his excitement increased.

The whaler's crew laughed, and some of the rougher characters even
encouraged Dick with their applause.

Ralph knew that discipline must be maintained, though ready himself to
bear any insult, and most unwilling to punish his former messmate.  A
boat from the _Falcon_ was alongside.  He ordered the boatswain and some
other men on whom he could depend to seize Dick and lower him into her.
It was done before the unhappy man knew what was happening.  Ralph then
wrote a note to Lieutenant Handsel, saying that the proceeding was
necessary to prevent worse consequences, but begging that, as Bracewell
had behaved bravely in the action, his offence might be overlooked.
Dick stormed and raged when he found himself being carried back to the
frigate, and vowed that he would be revenged.  Ralph regretted what had
happened, the more as he had hoped that, by keeping Dick on board the
_Eagle_, he might have prevented him from attempting to desert.  He
resolved, however, as soon as they arrived at Rio, to go on board the
_Falcon_ and to try and bring him to reason.  Though the distance to be
run was not great, they were very long about it.  Light winds and calms
prevailed, and when there was a breeze, the other ships had to wait for
the _Concorde_, which, under jury-masts, made but slow progress.  At
length land was sighted, and all hoped to get in the next day.  As,
however, evening drew on the weather looked very threatening.  Dark
clouds gathered rapidly in the sky.  Squalls in quick succession swept
over the ocean, and a heavy sea got up, in which the ships plunged and
rolled as they made their way towards the harbour's mouth.  Night coming
down on the world of waters, the rest were ordered by a signal from the
_Falcon_ to stand off the land till daylight.  Ralph trembled for the
masts of the _Eagle_, and was still more anxious about those of the
_Falcon_, The night became very dark, and the gale increased.  The
lights from the other ships could be distinguished at some distance
apart.  The _Falcon_ and _Penguin_ appeared to be making fair way, and
the _Eagle_ behaved very well, but the _Concorde_ was evidently dropping
astern.  Ralph had kept his eye on her lights.  They grew dimmer and
dimmer.  It was doubtful whether she was even holding her own.  The
_Eagle_ was under close-reefed topsails, and could with difficulty carry
them.  A perfect hurricane was blowing dead on shore.  "Lord help those
on board the prize!  I can nowhere see her lights," exclaimed old Jacob,
who had been looking out to leeward.  "She must have carried away her
jury-masts, or her canvas has blown to ribbons, I fear.  If not, we
shouldn't have lost sight of her."

Ralph looked in vain in the direction in which he had last seen the
lights of the _Concorde_, while those of the frigate and the whaler were
clearly visible, the former about a mile ahead of the _Eagle_, and the
latter rather further off, astern.

"If the wind doesn't change soon there'll go a good lump of prize-money
and the lives of a good many poor fellows," observed old Jacob.

"But won't she be able to steer for the harbour, Crane?" asked young
Chandos, who was, however, thinking more of his two messmates and others
on board than of prize-money.

"It will be a hard matter to find it, even if they can steer the ship at
all: and considering the way we knocked her about, it will be a wonder
to my mind if she doesn't go to the bottom before morning," answered old
Jacob with a sigh.

The anxious night passed away.  When day dawned, it was found that the
ships were nearer the land, notwithstanding all their endeavours to beat
off it, than they had been on the previous evening.  Many a glass was
turned westward in search of the _Concorde_, though the hope of
discovering her was slight.  Not a trace of her was to be seen.  She,
with her prize-crew, had probably foundered or gone on shore at the
moment her lights had disappeared.  Still it was thought possible that
she might have been driven into some bay, or between high rocks, and be
concealed by them from sight.  Soon after dawn the _Falcon_ made the
signal to bear up for the harbour.  She leading, and the two re-captured
whalers following, they stood towards it.  Though the sea broke
impetuously on the rocks on either side, they safely entered the
magnificent harbour of Rio de Janeiro, and dropped their anchors off the
town.

Lieutenant Handsel at once applied to the authorities for guides, and a
party was sent off, under the master and purser, to search the coast to
the northward for the wreck of the _Concorde_, and to assist any of the
crew who might have escaped.  The sea was still too rough to allow of an
expedition by water.  Ralph in the meantime was ordered to return to the
_Falcon_ with Mr Chandos and the men-of-war's men who had accompanied
him on board the _Eagle_.  Mr Handsel then told him that as there was
no probability of an English master being found at Rio to take the
_Eagle_ home, he should direct him to do so, and would furnish him with
a document which would enable him to obtain a passage to rejoin the
_Falcon_ in India, should he desire to remain in the navy.  "I would
strongly advise you to do so," he added; "and it will not be my fault it
you do not gain promotion."

Ralph heartily thanked his commander, and begged that he might be
allowed to defer his decision till his arrival in England.  Before going
on shore, which he had to visit to obtain workmen for the repairs of the
_Eagle_, he went below to speak to Dick Bracewell.  He hoped to soothe
his anger and to persuade him to give up his intention of deserting.  He
did not see him as he went along the decks.  He ascertained that he had
not formed one of the exploring party.  He sent others to search for
him, but he was nowhere to be found.  A number of shore-boats had been
going backwards and forwards all day between the ship and the shore, and
Ralph had too much reason to fear that Dick had smuggled himself into
one of them and made his escape.  He felt it his duty to inform the
commander, that watch might be kept to prevent others from following so
bad an example; and he received orders to take a couple of men and to
bring back the deserter if he could be found.  He first returned to the
_Eagle_ to warn the boatswain, who was in charge, to look sharply after
their own men.

"Half are drunk already, and as they have somehow or other managed to
get liquor on board there is no fear of them," was the unsatisfactory
answer.

Ralph could only hope that the boatswain himself would keep sober, and
as he could not remedy matters by remaining, he pulled on shore.  Having
obtained an interpreter and guide from the British consul, he commenced
his search for Dick.  After looking for him for some time, he heard that
an English seaman, answering to his description, had been seen to enter
a house in the neighbourhood of the town.  Though it was now nearly dark
he set off at once in the hopes of finding him before he could make his
escape.  He knew that he was acting really a kind part towards Dick, who
would, if left on shore, soon fall a victim to intemperance and the
unhealthy climate.  The house was reached.  The inhabitants appeared to
be very much surprised at the visit, and though they allowed a search to
be made for the runaway, they protested that they had never seen or
heard of him.  With much regret Ralph returned to the quay to go on
board his ship.  As he and his party approached the shore they observed
a bright glare in the sky over the harbour.

"As I'm alive, there's a ship on fire," exclaimed one of the seamen.
"Hope it isn't our frigate."

"It is one of the ships which came in this morning, at all events,"
observed the guide.

Ralph with an anxious heart hurried down to the quay, where a number of
people were already collected.  A ruddy glare extended far and wide over
the harbour from a fiery mass which floated on its surface, lighting up
the buildings and the figures of the people on the shore, and the ships
at anchor off it.  Among them lay the _Falcon_, her sides and lofty
masts and rigging brought prominently into view.  At some distance from
her was the _Penguin_; and what was Ralph's dismay when he discovered
that the burning ship was the _Eagle_.  His impulse was to go off at
once to her--but what aid could he render?  Already the flames were
bursting through her hatchways and ports and encircling her masts and
spars.  The oil and casks in her hold once having ignited, no human
means could extinguish the conflagration.  He looked for his boat.  A
boy alone was in her; the men, as was to be expected, had gone off to a
wine-house, and only just having heard that a ship was on fire, came
reeling down to the quay, uttering exclamations of surprise when they
discovered that she was their own.  Having tumbled into the boat they
were sufficiently sober to row, and Ralph ordering them to shove off,
steered for the unfortunate _Eagle_.  Numerous boats were moving about,
and some around her, and he hoped, therefore, that the people on board
had been rescued.  It made him fear, however, that all hope of saving
the ship had been abandoned.  Still it was his duty to get on board if
he could, to ascertain that every possible effort had been made.  He had
passed through an outer circle of native boats, and was dashing on, when
he was hailed by a man-of-war's boat, but not hearing what was said, he
was still continuing his course, and would soon have been close to the
ship, when there came a thundering report as if a whole broadside had
been fired.  Her mizen mast shot up into the air, followed by a large
portion of the afterpart of her deck and bulwarks and interior fittings;
some parts in large pieces, others rent into numberless burning
fragments, which hung suspended in the air, and then in a thick fiery
shower came hissing down into the water, the lighter bits reaching
considerably beyond where the boats lay.  Ralph had scarcely time even
to get his boat round before the shattered pieces of burning wood began
to fall thickly round his boat, threatening in an instant to sink her,
and to kill any one who might be struck.  Happily no one was hurt.  The
downfall of the wreck ceased; still the fire in the forepart of the ship
was raging on, when the bows and bowsprit rose in the air surrounded by
flames which, tapering up into a vast cone of fire, suddenly disappeared
as, the stern sinking first, the water swept over the remainder of this
hapless ship, and all was instantly dark, except here and there where
the smouldering ends of spars and planks floated above the calm surface
of the harbour.  Ralph with a sad heart pulled on board the _Falcon_,
feeling himself reduced from the position of captain of a fine ship to
that of a master's assistant; and what weighed still more on his
spirits, that he had no longer the prospect of returning to England and
to his dear Jessie.  He was thankful to find that the boatswain and most
of the crew of the _Eagle_ had been rescued, with the exception of three
unhappy men who, overcome by liquor, had been suffocated below.  The
whole of the survivors entered on board the _Falcon_--indeed, they were
not offered a choice.  A dozen of her best hands were also taken out of
the _Penguin_--such being the custom of the times, when a King's ship
wanted men.  Their places were filled by Portuguese and other
foreigners, thirty of whom were shipped by the _Falcon_ to make up her
complement, in addition to a few runaway English seamen reduced to
beggary, and sent on board by the consul.  The exploring party returned
without a survivor from the _Concorde_, a few pieces of wreck alone
having been found as evidence of her fate.  Such is the sad result of
warfare.  Three hundred human beings had lost their lives on board the
four ships, two only of which now remained afloat.  Ralph did his utmost
to discover Dick, but without success, and at length he began to fear
that he had been drowned in trying to make his escape, or had--not an
unlikely occurrence--been murdered on shore.  The _Falcon_, her repairs
being completed, and Mr Handsel having written his despatches to send
home by the _Penguin_, and having given himself an acting order as
commander, sailed for the East Indies.

Ralph, as may be supposed, did not fail to write to Jessie and Captain
Mudge by the _Penguin_, and to leave duplicates of two letters with the
consul, to be forwarded by another opportunity.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

Poor Jessie Flamank had good cause to be sad.  For long she hoped
against hope.  Whenever the door opened her heart beat quick, and she
looked up half ready to spring from her seat in expectation that her
Ralph would appear.  Her kind granny was unwilling to say anything which
might quench the hope which kept up her spirits, yet the dame knew full
well that Ralph was too good a seaman to be allowed his liberty.
Captain Mudge looked in every evening when his work on board the _Amity_
was over for the day, and did his utmost to comfort Jessie.  He would
not say, however, whether he thought that Ralph would come back soon,
but he told her that he was sure to get on well, and be better off in
many respects than on board the brig.  "As to danger," he continued, "to
my mind a man is as safe in one place as in another.  God, remember,
looks after those who trust in Him; they would be in a bad case if they
had no other protection than such as they can find for themselves; so I
don't see, Jessie, that any of us can do more for him than we are doing,
that is, praying heartily for him.  As I always say, it's a blessed
thing that we can do that for ourselves and others, though we can do
nothing else for our own or their help."

Jessie did trust to God, but her trial was hard to bear notwithstanding.
Still it made her throw herself more than she might otherwise have done
on His fatherly care, and she felt her heart lightened in a way she had
not supposed possible.  She had abundance of occupation; for Mrs
Treviss was accustomed to take in needlework, to assist her limited
means, and as her eyesight had of late become dim, Jessie endeavoured to
relieve her by labouring with redoubled diligence.

Kind-hearted Captain Mudge seldom came to the cottage without some
welcome present, which he said he had received as a gift from a brother
skipper just returned from a foreign voyage.  One day it was a Dutch
cheese, another a few pounds of choice tea, or a box of dried fruit or
some bottles of wine, and so on.  One day, when the package was larger
than would have been becoming for him, master of the good brig _Amity_,
to carry through the streets, he was followed by a boy wheeling it along
in a barrow.  The lad, who was dressed in a neat sailor-like costume,
set it down in the passage and was going away, when Jessie recognised,
in spite of his changed appearance, her young tatterdemalion boatman,
Peter Puddle.  "What, Peter, I scarcely knew you again," she said.  "You
must stop and have something to eat."

"Thank ye, miss, I'm not hungry, as I used to be," he answered, in a
tone of satisfaction.  "Captain Mudge has taken me aboard the _Amity_,
and I get as much grub as I want, though I shouldn't mind a bit of bread
and cheese, thank you."

Jessie invited Peter into the kitchen and placed before him a loaf of
bread and some cheese, to which, notwithstanding his assertion, he did
ample justice.  She observed that he had improved in his manners as well
as in his appearance.  Before beginning to eat, he said grace exactly in
the words the captain used and in the same tone.  He told her that
Captain Mudge had given him an outfit, and was teaching him to read and
say his prayers, and was ever so kind in all sorts of ways.  "Oh, miss,
there isn't no one like him," he added.  "And only to think if I'd gone
off at once that night and hadn't picked those fellows up, I might have
saved your young man from going to sea in the frigate.  I be main sorry,
you may depend on't; but I'll do all the captain tells me, that I will."

Jessie sighed.  "The men might have lost their lives had you not picked
them up, though it was, indeed, careless of you to forget your
commission," she said.  "But what I have to forgive I heartily do
forgive, and I hope that you will obey Captain Mudge, and follow his
advice."

"That I will, miss, and thank you, too, for speaking so kindly to me,"
answered Peter warmly.  "I hope I may have a chance of showing that I am
grateful, some day, though it isn't likely, I'll allow."

The _Amity_ was at length ready for sea.  She was bound out to Riga for
staves, a somewhat dangerous voyage in the autumn.  Captain Mudge came
to wish the widow and her granddaughter farewell.  "I've got a fresh
mate," he said, "a decent lad; but he isn't like Ralph, and I doubt if
he's much of a navigator."

"Good-bye, Jessie, good-bye; heaven bless and protect you; keep a good
heart, my girl, you'll see Ralph back some day," were his last words, as
he wrung her hand at the porch and hurried down the road.

When he had gone, Jessie felt that she had lost the truest friend she
possessed in the world next to her granny, and she could not help
fearing that the days of her only relative were numbered.  Every week
Jessie saw a marked change in her.  She could no longer get up and
downstairs without the greatest difficulty, her eyesight grew worse, and
her trembling fingers refused to hold a needle, while she could scarcely
convey her food to her mouth.  In one respect she had not changed: her
mind remained clear and her trust in God as firm as ever.  She knew that
she was dying, though she was loth to say so to her grandchild, who
would thus be left alone in the world.  "God will look after the dear
one," she said often to herself; "He is ever the father of the
fatherless, and will not forsake her."  She longed, however, for the
return of Captain Mudge, but though it was the time for him to be back,
no news had come from him.  A letter at last arrived from Ralph, written
from the West Indies, which gave her an account of his prospects of
promotion, and cheered her up.  He was well and as contented as could
be, and she was thankful for that; still it compelled her to abandon all
hopes of his speedy return.  When his next letter arrived, giving an
account of the battle and of the loss of the _Eagle_ and of his own
bitter disappointment, she was sitting by the death-bed of Mrs Treviss.
Had it not been for the burning of the _Eagle_, Ralph might even now
have been with her, but instead, he had certainly gone to that far, far
off Indian Ocean, where he might be kept for years.  Jessie restrained
her tears that she might not disturb her grandmother's last hours.

Mrs Treviss, who was thinking of Captain Mudge, asked faintly if he was
coming.

"No hope of it, dear granny," she answered, in a faltering voice.

"God's will be done!  Trust to Him!  Trust to Him!" whispered, the old
woman, closing her eyes as if she were weary and wanted sleep.

Jessie sat long watching her anxiously.  There was no movement.  She
took her hand.  It was icy cold.  Her granny was dead, and she was alone
in the world.  The doctor some time after looked in and found the young
girl still seated by the bedside.  He sent a woman, Dame Judson by name,
to assist her, and promised to make arrangements for the funeral, but he
had a large family of his own, and could do little more except in the
way of sympathy and advice.  Mrs Treviss was carried to her grave,
Jessie being the only mourner, while Dame Judson walked by her side to
afford her support.

When she came back to her solitary home she could not for some time
arouse herself from her grief, though Dame Judson, a motherly sort of
woman, tried her best to console her.  Jessie, however, felt that it was
necessary to consider what she should do for her support.  The cottage
was hers, and she had about ten pounds a year left her, the interest of
a sum in the hands of Messrs. Grayson and Company, shipowners, of
Plymouth.  She could make something by her needle, but scarcely
sufficient, though she was resolved to try her best.  She would have let
her cottage and looked for a situation as a lady's-maid or a
nursery-governess, but then should Ralph come back he would be
disappointed at not finding her there, and she might not even hear of
his return, so she would not entertain the idea for a moment.  She might
find an old lady to lodge with her, and her last idea was to open a
school for little girls.  She had no one to consult with.  Worthy Dame
Judson hadn't an idea above charing; with her neighbours she was but
slightly acquainted.  Messrs. Grayson and Company had paid her
grandmother's interest regularly, but were not pleasant people to speak
to.  They had been part owners with her father in the _Dolphin_, the
ship in which he had been wrecked.  Having neglected to insure her they
had lost a good deal of money by the circumstance, and being especially
narrow-minded entertained an ill feeling even for poor Jessie herself,
which they exhibited whenever she went to their office.  She had been to
a good school in Exeter, but the lady who kept it, and who would have
been of great assistance, was dead, and the school broken up.

The clergyman of the church Jessie attended, on hearing of her
unprotected condition, immediately called on her to offer such
consolation and assistance as he had the power to bestow.  He was,
however, the vicar of an extensive parish, which, in addition to its
usual large number of poor, contained at the time very many widows and
orphans of the soldiers and sailors killed during the long protracted
war, who demanded all his sympathy and attention.  Having also but a
limited income, insufficient for the extensive demands on his purse, he
was unable to afford her any pecuniary assistance.  His visits, few and
far between, like those of angels, as they of necessity were, afforded
her much comfort and support, as he never failed to urge her to seek for
that strength from on high which will always be granted when asked for
with a believing heart; and to place her reliance on Him who orders all
for the best, though man, with his finite powers of mind, often fails to
perceive it.

The only other person she could consult was Mr Barry, the apothecary,
and he had but little time to give his thoughts to the subject.

The _Amity_ had in the meantime gone back to London, and had made
several other distant voyages without returning to Plymouth.  The
captain had written to her, but on each occasion had again sailed
without receiving her replies, and was thus not aware of her
grandmother's death.  At length a letter reached him while he lay in the
Thames, and in his answer he promised to come and see her without fail
at the end of the next voyage.  A long time passed after this, and no
tidings came of him.  She lived on in hopes, however, of his promised
visit, till at length she heard from Mrs Judson of a rumour that the
_Amity_ was lost with all hands.

"But don't ye take on so now, my dear," exclaimed the good woman when
she saw the effect her announcement had produced.  "We often hear of
vessels going to the bottom which are all the time snug in some port or
other, and perhaps the _Amity_, which has to be sure been a terrible
long time missing, will come back some day with her old captain all
right."

These remarks slightly revived poor Jessie's hopes, but weeks and weeks
went by and the old captain did not appear.  Still she thought that the
_Amity_ might have been captured by the enemy and be in some foreign
port; but the brokers had not heard from Captain Mudge, and even though
a prisoner he would have managed to send a letter.  She had long been
expecting also to hear from Ralph.  She was certain that he would have
written if he had had the opportunity, but no news came of him.  India
was a long way off, and letters were often six months or even a year in
coming, she knew.  She was, therefore, though anxious, not alarmed, but
she could not help watching with a beating heart each day at the hour
the postman was wont to pass her door, in the expectation that he would
stop with a letter in his hand.

Months and months passed, none came.  Her heart sickened, her cheeks
grew pale.  Again Dame Judson was the bearer of bad tidings.  "She
didn't wish to alarm Miss Flamank, not she, but she had heard a report
that one of his Majesty's ships had been lost in the Indian seas with
all hands, and she was greatly afraid that it might be the _Falcon_.
There were many other ships, though, on the station, and it might just
as likely be one of them."

Jessie had never before fainted in her life, but she would have fallen
to the ground had not Mrs Judson caught her and carried her to the
sofa.  The good woman was dreadfully frightened, for she thought that
Jessie was dead, and that she had killed her by her incautious
announcement.  She tried all the usual expedients to restore animation,
and at length the poor girl opened her eyes, but there was a pained yet
vacant expression in them which the dame could not fail to remark.

Mr Barry happened soon afterwards to look in to say that he had the
promise of four or five pupils, but he at once saw that poor Jessie
would be unable to receive them for a long time to come.  For weeks she
remained in a sadly prostrated state, attended by Dame Judson, who
looked after her, as she said truly, without hope of fee or reward.
Youth and a good constitution prevailed at length, and Jessie recovered
her health, though her heart seemed crushed, and she was unable to exert
herself as she knew was necessary to obtain a livelihood.  Poor girl!
she felt utterly alone in the world.  Still, though the news of the
_Falcon's_ loss was confirmed beyond all doubt, and the widows and
children of her officers and crew entitled to pensions had received them
she heard, she herself would not abandon all hope of seeing Ralph.  Had
she not prayed to God that he might be preserved from all dangers with
the truest faith? and oh, how earnestly! though, as in duty bound, she
had added, "Thy will be done."  She even now tried from her heart to
repeat those words and to bow meekly to the will of her Heavenly Father.
"He knows what is best, and does all for the best, as granny used to
tell me, and as the kind vicar often says," she repeated to herself; "I
am sure of that, though I cannot see it in this case, but that arises
from my blindness and little faith."



CHAPTER NINE.

Kind Mrs Judson had gone to her own house.  Jessie was seated at her
work near the window for the sake of the light on an evening in the
spring of the year, when she saw a man in a sailor's dress pass the
garden gate, then stop and make inquiries of a passer by.  Presently he
came back, and opening the gate, knocked at the door.  Her heart beat
violently.  He was a stranger, not at all like Ralph; but could he have
brought news of him?  She flew to open the door.

"Beg pardon, ma'am; are you Jessie Flamank?" asked the stranger, pulling
off his hat with a sailor's courtesy.

"Oh, who are you?  Oh, tell me why you have come!" exclaimed Jessie,
scarcely able in her agitation to utter the words.

"Why, do you see, I'm an old shipmate of one you knew once upon a time,
and I thought as now I was at Plymouth I'd come and look you up and see
how you were getting on, and have a talk about him," answered the man,
stepping in as Jessie made way for him.

"Then do you bring me no news of him--of Ralph Michelmore?" she asked,
in a trembling voice.

"Not what you may call news; seeing as how it's better than two years
since I last set eyes on my old messmate," answered the stranger, taking
a chair, while Jessie, unable to support herself, sank into the one she
had left.  "He told me all about you," he continued, "how you were to be
married when he was pressed along with me and others, and so I came to
know you: and, said I to myself, now that he's gone, poor fellow, and
she's all forlorn-like, maybe, I'll try and comfort her a bit."

Poor Jessie!  This strange address from the rough sailor, though
apparently kindly meant, had anything but the effect intended, for she
burst into tears.

"Now don't take on so," said the sailor, "I didn't think as how I'd have
made you cry, or I wouldn't have talked about Ralph.  Maybe he wasn't
lost with the old _Falcon_.  I've known men turn up after ever so many
years, whom I thought fathoms deep below the waves long afore.  Not but
what he'd have been sure to come back to you if he could, that's
certain."

"You have not told me who you are.  How did you escape from the
shipwreck?" said Jessie, at length becoming calm enough to speak.

"I've had a purser's name [see note 1] for some time past, but I don't
mind telling you I'm Dick Bracewell, who sailed along with Captain Mudge
in the _Amity_ once upon a time," answered her visitor.  "And as to how
I escaped, why I'd left the ship after we took the Frenchman and put
into Rio, and I didn't know but what Ralph was still aboard her, and a
lieutenant by that time, till I heard when I came ashore last that she
was lost with all hands."

Jessie did not quite like Dick's way of speaking, still it was a
melancholy satisfaction to her to talk of Ralph; and as her visitor
appeared to mean kindly, she did not express any wish that he would take
his departure.  He sat and sat on telling her many particulars about
Ralph while on board the _Falcon_; how well he had behaved in the
action, and how he had been made an officer, and been placed in command
of the _Eagle_, Dick did not, however, tell her everything that had
occurred regarding himself; but though he was not aware of it his tone
betrayed the feeling of jealousy which he had entertained, and which her
quick perception detecting, did not raise him in her estimation.  At
last she had to tell him that it was getting late, and to beg that he
would go away.

"Well, I hope that I may call again and spin another yarn about old
times," he answered, as he took up his hat.

She did not like to say no, and yet his conversation had not left a
pleasant impression on her mind.  When she had closed the door behind
him, she sat down and cried bitterly.  It seemed to her more certain
than ever that Ralph was lost.  Her evening reading of the Bible and her
prayers, that solace of the afflicted, restored calmness to her mind.

Day after day Dick Bracewell came to pay her a visit, and, believing him
to have been Ralph's particular friend, she did not like to decline
seeing him.  He told her that after he had left the _Falcon_ he had
joined a privateer, which had been wonderfully successful; that they had
taken a rich Spanish galleon and many other valuable vessels, and that
he, having become one of the mates of the ship, had had a large share of
prize-money; enough, he declared, to set him up as an independent
gentleman for life.  To wind up his good luck he had come home in charge
of the last prize they had made, which was fully as rich as any of the
rest.

"My old shipmate, he that's gone, told me that I should be ruined if I
left the frigate, but he was wrong, you see," added Dick.  "He thought,
too, that I hadn't the sense to take care of my money, if I got any; but
I had had a sharp lesson or two, and I made up my mind not to touch
liquor, whether afloat or ashore, and I've kept to it for better than
two years."

Jessie had heard Ralph mention Dick Bracewell once or twice, but knowing
nothing about his character, did not doubt the truth of his statements.
Still Dick had not, as he supposed, gained her confidence.  His frequent
visits were, as might have been expected, noticed by Jessie's
neighbours, and Dame Judson looked in one morning on purpose to tell her
of the remarks she had heard, and to give her advice on the subject.
She concluded by saying, "If you think that he is worthy of you, my
dear, which I don't, why, there is nothing to say.  You are your own
mistress, and can marry him when--"

"I marry him!" interrupted Jessie.  "Oh, Mrs Judson, how can you think
of such a thing?  I did not suppose that he or any one else dreamed for
a moment that I fancied he was making up to me, or I would not have
received him after his first visit.  Do, Mrs Judson, stay with me
to-day, and if he comes tell him that I cannot see him, and beg that he
will not come again."

Mrs Judson very readily consented to do as Jessie wished.  She had made
inquiries about Dick Bracewell, and did not altogether believe in the
capture of the Spanish galleon, though she heard that he had come ashore
from a prize brought into Plymouth to be sold.  The dame had brought her
work, and took Jessie's usual place by the window to watch for Dick.
She had not been there long before she saw a young sailor approach the
house, and, without stopping, walk straight up to the door.  "That isn't
Dick Bracewell.  I wonder who he can be," she exclaimed, as a knock was
heard.

"Can it be Ralph?" gasped out Jessie, rising from her seat.

"Oh, no, my dear, he's much too young-looking.  You mustn't have such a
fancy.  I'll see what he wants," said the dame, going to the door.

"Please, ma'am, does Miss Flamank still live here?" asked the young
sailor.

"What do you want to say to her?" said the dame.

"I've a great deal to say to her, and I think shell know me when I tell
her who I am," replied the sailor.

"Do let him come in, Mrs Judson," exclaimed Jessie, eagerly, her heart
beating with the belief that she should hear news of Ralph.

The stranger, doffing his hat, advanced into the room and stood before
Jessie with a smile on his countenance as if expecting instantly to be
recognised.  "I thought, Miss Flamank, that you'd have known me," he
said at length; "I've never forgotten you and your kindness to me.
Don't you remember Peter Puddle?"

"Oh! yes, yes; indeed I do," exclaimed Jessie, putting out her hand.
"And is the _Amity_ not lost?  Is Captain Mudge still alive?"

Peter shook his head.  "I wish I could say there was any chance of
that," he answered.  "When the old brig went down in the dead of night,
I was left afloat on a hen-coop, which the old captain had just before
cast loose and told me to cling to, for all our boats were stove in.
And I never saw him, nor any one belonging to the _Amity_ alive again.
Next morning I was picked up by a ship bound out to the West Indies, and
I've been knocking about in those seas ever since.  The captain had
taught me navigation, and, what was better still, to read the Bible; and
as I just did what that tells me to do, I got a good character aboard.
I was made third mate, and the other two dying, I became first mate for
want of a better man; though I was very young for such a charge.  But I
did my best, and the captain was satisfied, and says that, as he didn't
want a better, I should sail with him again next voyage.  We sailed for
home at last, bound for London; but having sprung a leak, and carried
away our fore-mast, we put into Plymouth for repairs--and that's how
I've been able to come up to see you.  But I've not yet spun all my
yarn.  Tell me, Miss, have you never got any letters from me?"

"No," answered Jessie, "I have not received a single letter from abroad
for three long years or more," and she sighed sadly.

"I thought 'twas so when I got no answers to three I wrote," said Peter.
"What I had to tell you was this,--that just before the brig went down
the captain made fast to the hen-coop a bag with fifty golden guineas in
it, and charged me, if I escaped, to take it to you.  I unlashed it and
managed to get it into my pocket just before I was hoisted on board.
There would have been small chance of my keeping it, however, if I had
not fallen among honest people; but when I came to know the captain, I
was sure that it would be safe in his hands, so I gave it into his
charge, and he stowed it away for me, and showed me where it was kept.
If he hadn't done this I should have lost it, for a few months ago, when
we were down in the Bay of Honduras, we were chased and overtaken by a
schooner under Spanish colours.  Her crew, a set of fellows of all
nations, calling themselves privateer's-men, though they were more like
pirates, robbed us of everything they could lay hands on, and all the
specie they could find belonging to the captain and owners, and had
begun to scuttle the ship, and would, no doubt, have set fire to her
besides and carried off our boats, when an English man-of-war hove in
sight, bringing up a strong breeze.  The pirates, some of whom I was
sure were Englishmen, in spite of their dress, for I heard them
speaking, and should know two or three of them again, made off, and
allowed us to stop the auger holes and pump out the water.  Their
schooner, being a fast craft, escaped; but the man-of-war, having seen
us safe on our way to Barbadoes, went back to look for her.  If she
didn't find her, she would at all events have made those seas too hot
for the pirate.  I was better pleased than anything else that your money
was saved, and here it is all right, just as the captain did it up for
you."

As Peter spoke he placed on the table before Jessie a small
weather-stained canvas bag, and, undoing the string, counted out fifty
guineas.

"They are all right," he continued, "and my heart is lightened of the
thought I've always had that I might lose them, though I would have made
it up to you somehow or other--that I would."

Tears choked Jessie's utterance as she thought of the kind captain who
had remembered her in his last moments, and of the sturdy honesty and
faithfulness of Peter.

"I am, indeed, grateful to you as I am to Captain Mudge," she said at
length; "but surely you are entitled to some of this."

"Not a dollar would I touch, not if all the judges in the land were to
order me to take it," answered Peter, replacing the money in the bag,
which he tied up and pressed into her hands.  "There, it's all for you,
and I wish you knew how happy I am to give it to you safe at last."

Before Jessie could reply there was a knock at the door.  Mrs Judson
went to open it.  "Miss Flamank cannot see you," Jessie heard her say.

"She never sent that message," exclaimed Dick Bracewell, brushing by her
and entering the room.  He cast an angry glance at Peter, as if he
considered him an intruder, and advanced to shake hands with Jessie.
She drew back, greatly annoyed at his conduct.

"Mrs Judson told you I was engaged," she said.

"She told me you couldn't see me; but when a man loves a girl, and knows
pretty well that she likes him, he isn't to be stopped by trifles," he
answered, throwing himself into a chair, as if he felt perfectly at
home.

A feeling of indignation prevented Jessie from saying anything.
Meantime Peter had been narrowly eyeing her unwelcome visitor, and,
stepping up to him, said--

"You've just come from the West Indies, mate, I've a notion?"

"Yes, I've been in those seas," answered Dick, for, having told Jessie
so, he could not deny the fact.

"I thought as much; and we met there not long ago in a way I'm not
likely to forget," said Peter, quietly.  "Maybe you don't remember me,
but I do you, I can tell you; and there are not a few of the crew of the
_Kate_ who will remember you, too, if they set eyes on you."

Dick; taken by surprise, turned pale, and declared he did not know what
the young man meant; but Peter again minutely described how his ship had
been boarded by pirates on the Spanish main, and positively asserting
that Dick was one of them, advised him, if he valued his life and
liberty, to clear out of Plymouth without delay.

Dick, as might have been expected, swore that the young man, as he
called Peter, was mistaken; but shortly after, observing that it was
clear he was not wanted, took up his hat, and, without much
leave-taking, hurried out of the house.

Jessie, who feared that Peter was right in his suspicions, thanked him
for giving Dick the warning.

"He was once, at all events, Ralph Michelmore's friend, and I should
have grieved if you had been the means of bringing him to punishment,"
she said.

"I'd not hurt him, Miss Jessie, on any account," answered Peter; "but as
I judged by the way you spoke to him that he was not welcome, I thought
I would just say what would make him keep away for the future."

Peter remained to dinner and amused Jessie and Mrs Judson with an
account of his adventures, in all of which his honesty and courage were
remarkable, though he was not aware that what he said exhibited it.

"That's what the right training of good Captain Mudge has done for him,"
observed Mrs Judson, when he had gone.  "I remember him a regular
pickle; and, if he had been left to himself, he would have been a
vagabond all his life, like many others who have had no kind friends to
look after them."

Peter's warning had not, it appeared, been lost upon Dick Bracewell; for
from that day Jessie saw him no more.

Peter came constantly, while he remained in Plymouth, to see her.  At
his last visit he put the sum of thirty pounds into her hands.  "I want
you to take this, Miss Flamank, and to spend any of it you like," he
said, while a blush spread over his sunburnt countenance.  "It's my
savings since I was picked up by the _Kate_, and I always intended it
for you.--Well, if you won't accept it as a gift, remember, if what
happens to many a sailor happens to me, it will be yours.  Now, don't
say no, and you'll make me more happy than I can tell you."

Peter would take no refusal, so at last Jessie consented to receive the
money, though she resolved not to spend it on any account.  After Peter
had sailed, Jessie lived on much as before, except that with the money
she had received she was able to obtain many of the necessaries she had
before denied herself.  Still her pale cheek told of a sad heart, and
though more than one young man well to do in the world asked her to
become his wife, she remained faithful to the memory of her lost Ralph.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Note 1: A fictitious name sailors who have deserted generally assume to
escape recognition.



CHAPTER TEN.

The _Falcon_ proceeded on her voyage to India.  Though she was refitted
as thoroughly as was possible in a foreign port, her commander had no
wish to encounter another enemy with so large a proportion of his crew
untried and inexperienced.  He did his utmost, however, to get them into
efficient order, and every day that the weather permitted they were
exercised at the guns, as well as at making and shortening sail, and
taught the use of the small arms.

Ralph Michelmore was fully occupied, and had but little time to think of
his bitter disappointment at not returning home in the _Eagle_.  By the
time the _Falcon_ reached the Hoogly, the crew had been brought into
excellent order, and were highly complimented by the admiral on the
station.  There being no post-captain to supersede him, Mr Handsel
received an acting order to continue in the command.  The _Falcon_ was
allowed just time to take on board a fresh supply of powder, shot, and
other stores and provisions, when she was ordered to proceed in search
of an enemy's cruiser, said to have captured several English merchantmen
in the southern part of the Indian Ocean.  She was supposed to be a
heavy frigate, equal, if not superior, in force to the _Falcon_, but
neither Captain Handsel nor any of his ship's company had the slightest
doubt as to what would be the result of an action should they be
fortunate enough to fall in with her.

A sharp look-out was kept, and the ocean traversed in all directions for
several weeks, but no traces of her could be discovered, till at length
a prize she had taken only two days before was re-captured.  Her
probable whereabouts having been ascertained from the prisoners, the
prize being sent on to Calcutta, the _Falcon_ under all sail steered in
the direction where it was hoped the enemy would be found.  The stormy
season was approaching.  The weather, indeed, had already changed for
the worse; but still Captain Handsel was unwilling to return to port,
when on the point, as he hoped, of meeting the long looked-for foe.

A strong breeze was blowing from the northeast, and the frigate was
steering south, under all the canvas she could bear.  The crew had just
been piped to breakfast.

"A sail on the lee bow," shouted the look-out at the mast-head.

Ralph was sent aloft to examine the stranger.  She was standing
close-hauled to the northward.  From the squareness of her yards, he had
little doubt, seen even at that distance, that she was a man-of-war, but
as the two ships were rapidly nearing each other, the matter would soon
be decided.  The course of the _Falcon_ was altered so as to intercept
the stranger.  Suddenly, however, the latter was seen to wear ship, and,
setting more sail, to stand away before the wind.  The _Falcon_ was
already carrying as much as she could well stagger under; still, eager
to overtake the fugitive the captain ordered the topgallant sails to be
loosed, and on flew the _Falcon_, like the bird from which she took her
name, in chase of her expected prey.  A stern chase is proverbially a
long chase.  It seemed doubtful, after the lapse of several hours,
whether she was gaining ground on the stranger.  The evening was drawing
on: the gale was increasing.

"Hand the topgallant sails!" shouted the captain.  The crew were going
aloft when there came a loud crash.  The fore and main topgallant masts
were carried away.  Two poor fellows were struck--one fell dead on the
deck, the other was knocked overboard.  To heave-to was impossible.  The
wreck of the masts was cleared away, and two reefs taken in the
topsails, and the courses brailed up.  The frigate flew on at her utmost
speed.  It was now almost night, and it was feared that the chase would
escape in the darkness.  Still it was possible, with the heavy gale
blowing, that she might continue on the course she was steering.

When darkness came down over the ocean the chase could still be seen
through the night-glasses, standing as before.  As night, however, drew
on, clouds gathered thickly in the sky, the obscurity became greater,
the gale heavier, and after a tremendous squall, which struck the
frigate, had passed over, those on the look-out could nowhere discern
the chase.

The captain, however, did not believe that she had hauled her wind, and
hoped to come up with her perhaps with her masts gone.  The master,
after speaking with the captain, had gone below to examine the chart,
but even that could not be relied on, as the part of the ocean they were
then in, was, in those days, but imperfectly known, and prudence
dictated that they should heave-to till daylight.

The captain, in the meantime, expecting every instant again to sight the
chase, kept the ship on her course.  Ralph was standing aft with his two
young messmates, Chandos and Dickenson, who had become much attached to
him.

"What do you think of it, Michelmore?  I don't like running into the
darkness as we are doing," observed the former.

"The darkness will not hurt us, and provided there are no rocks or
shoals in our course we may run on as safely as in the daytime,"
answered Ralph.  "I examined the chart, and the nearest islands marked
on it are, if they are correctly laid down, full fifty leagues to the
south of us, though there are some shoals rather nearer."

The master, who had been below, returned hurriedly on deck, and spoke to
the captain.

"If so, we'll heave the ship to," was the answer.

Scarcely had the order been given to "Put the helm a-lee," than the
look-out forward shouted "Breakers ahead!" and the next instant a
fearful crashing sound was heard.  The ship quivered from stem to stern,
the tall masts rocked, and those on deck, unable to hold on to the
bulwarks, were thrown off their feet.  It was a moment of intense
suspense.  The head-sheets had been let fly.  Would the ship answer her
helm?  No.  A tremendous sea met her bows, sweeping over her deck, and
carrying several men in its relentless grasp into the raging surf to
leeward.  Again she struck, with greater violence than before; the next
sea hove her on her beam ends.  The carpenter reported twelve feet of
water in the hold, and rapidly increasing--a rock had gone through her.
The captain ordered the masts to be cut away.  He had abandoned all
hopes of saving the ship, and his only thought now was how to preserve
the lives of his people.  A party of the crew, led by Ralph and other
officers, with gleaming axes quickly severed the weather rigging, and a
few strokes were sufficient to send the tall masts, with their spars,
crashing over to leeward.  The furious seas in quick succession struck
the devoted ship, carrying away her bulwarks, and destroying several of
her boats.  The officers and crew were collected on the quarter-deck,
for the stern of the ship having swung round it was least exposed to the
assaults of the waves.  Ralph had sought out his two young friends,
Chandos and Dickenson, wishing to help them if he could.  Looking over
the larboard quarter, he observed that the water in that direction was
less broken than elsewhere, and he felt sure that he saw the land rising
to a considerable height at no great distance.  He told the captain that
he thought he might reach the shore, and, if it was inhabited, bring
assistance to the ship.  A small boat hung at the after-davits capable
of carrying four or five people.

"You can try it," said the captain; "choose any two of the men on whom
you can rely to accompany you, and take these two youngsters," touching
Chandos and Dickenson on the shoulders, "there will be less risk for
them than by their remaining on board, I fear.  Remember, Michelmore, if
you escape, that I was in chase of an enemy when the ship was lost, and
that there was an error in the chart.  Heaven bless and preserve you!"
he wrung Ralph's hand as he spoke.

The two young midshipmen were placed in the boat, which was carefully
lowered, with Jacob Crane, and another man, Ned Hawkins, whom Ralph
selected, he himself following.  He put Jacob at the helm, confident of
the old man's judgment, and got out an oar, the rest doing the same.
Sheltered by the wreck, the boat at first floated in comparatively
smooth water, but scarcely had her head been got round than she was in
the foaming waves, which rolled in towards the shore.  They, however,
did not break as they did at the fore part of the ship, and Ralph knew
from this that she had struck on the extreme point of a reef, and he
hoped that, could the remaining boats or rafts be launched, his
shipmates might yet be saved.  Anxious to communicate this information,
he directed Jacob to steer back to the ship, but after pulling for some
time they found that they had made no progress, and it became evident
that a strong current was sweeping round the point, and that their
utmost efforts would be in vain.  The boat's head was therefore once
more turned towards the shore.  The current, however, swept them at a
rapid rate to the westward, so that they soon lost sight of the ship.
Not a glimpse either of the land could be obtained, and they began to
fear that they should be carried out to sea.

"Never say die if we are," observed Jacob; "it may be better for us than
having to run through the surf with the chance of being rolled over and
over in it."

The storm raged with greater fury than before.  Jacob advised, as the
only hope of preserving their lives, that they should keep the boat's
head to the sea, and allow her to drift on till daylight, when they
might discover some spot where they could attempt to land with a
prospect of success.  In spite of all their efforts the seas continually
washed into the boat, and compelled the two midshipmen to work hard at
baling out the water, while Ralph and Ned Hawkins, with their two oars,
kept the boat in a right position.  Their anxiety about the fate of
their shipmates prevented them from contemplating as much as they would
otherwise have done the perils of their own situation.  To return to the
wreck was impossible; to land in safety seemed equally so.  At any
moment a raging sea might overwhelm them, and it required their utmost
strength and skill to avert the catastrophe.  Now and then, as the boat
rose to the summit of a billow, Ralph fancied that he could distinguish
through the darkness the dim outline of the coast, and as its form had
changed since first seen, he was convinced that they were still drifting
along it.  He feared that, unless the direction of the current changed,
they might be carried far away out to sea, when death from hunger and
thirst must be their lot; still, trusting in God's mercy, he did his
utmost to keep up the courage of his companions.  The midshipmen behaved
as became them, not a word of complaint escaping their lips, while every
time a sea broke on board, Chandos cried out, "Hurrah, here's more work
for us; bale away, Dickenson; we must clear her before the next comes."
It seemed, indeed, wonderful that so small a boat could live in such a
sea.  Thus the night wore on.

At dawn of day Ralph discovered, less than half a mile to the
south-west, a rocky point, the extreme eastern end, he supposed, of a
somewhat elevated island, along the northern coast of which they had
been drifting during the night.  The light rapidly increased, while the
clouds cleared away, and the wind abated.  As far as the eye could reach
to the westward appeared an unbroken line of raging surf, into which,
had the boat been carried, her destruction would have been certain.  He
pointed out to his companions how mercifully they had hitherto been
preserved; "and if we can get round yonder point we shall be in smooth
water, under the lee of the island, and shall probably without
difficulty get on shore," he added.

Once more he cast an anxious look westward, but not a trace of the wreck
could be seen.  Had the _Falcon_ and her gallant crew been totally
engulfed by the waves?

"I fear that it's all over with them," said Jacob; "I don't think we
could have come so far as to lose sight of the wreck altogether if she
still hung together."

The boat's head was now cautiously got round, and the midshipmen
resuming their oars, they pulled away in a direction which would enable
them to round the point clear of the surf.  They were round it at last,
but a fringe of black rocks, over which the sea leaped and foamed,
warned them to keep at a distance.  On and on they rowed.  The coast was
uninviting.  No trees were to be seen; no signs of human habitation.  At
length a small sandy bay appeared, with high rocks on either side of it,
while beyond was a valley, its sides clothed with trees and green
herbage.  No spot could be more desirable.  Pulling in, they landed, and
hauled up their boat on the beach.

"We are not ashamed, I hope, of thanking Him who preserved us through
the dangers of the last dark night, and asking Him to take care of us
for the future," said Jacob.

"No, indeed," answered Ralph and the midshipmen, and at once they knelt
down on the sand, and, led by the old man, together offered up their
prayers to the All Merciful One, to Whom they acknowledged their safety
was alone due; for vain would have been all their efforts and skill
without His aid.  Rising from their knees, they set off in search of
water, and their eyes were soon gladdened by the sight of a clear stream
running down the valley.  Having quenched their thirst, they looked
about for food.

They had not gone far when, to their surprise, they saw close under the
hill, shaded by trees, a well-built hut, evidently not the habitation of
a savage.  They hurried towards it, expecting to find the occupant
within.  No one appeared.  The door was open.  They entered.  There was
a bedstead with the clothes still on it, a fireplace built of rough
stone, the ashes of a recently burning fire within it.  Hung against the
wall were several cooking utensils, and on some shelves were arranged
some plates and dishes and cups and knives and forks.  In the centre of
the hut was a cabin table, and placed round it were three chests, which
had apparently served as seats.  They contained only a few old shoes and
worn-out clothes.  No books or writing materials were found, or anything
to show who had been the occupants of the hut.  If it had contained any
articles of value, they had been carried away.  Both Ralph and Jacob
were of the opinion, from the workmanship of the chests and table, that
they were French.  As no food was found in the hut, they were eager to
continue their search for some.  At a short distance off was a small
garden, but it had lately been dug up, and all the vegetables and roots
it had contained had been carried off.

"It's my opinion that there were three people who messed together in the
hut.  One lived in it--either the captain or another officer--and the
other two slept elsewhere," observed Jacob.  "We shall find their
roosting place not far off.  One thing seems certain, that they are not
here now, and there's little doubt that a vessel visited the place
lately, and that they and everything of value were carried away by her,
as well as the produce of the garden."

Ralph and the rest thought that Jacob was probably right in his
conjectures.

"Well, I can't make it out at all," exclaimed Jacob, who had gone ahead
of his companions.  He pointed, as they came up, to three long, narrow,
grass-covered mounds on a level spot at some distance from the hut.
They were evidently graves.

"If the poor fellows lie there they can't have got away; but, then, how
could the last have managed to bury himself?"

Chandos remarked that perhaps there were four people, and that a
survivor had performed that office for the rest; but the old man was
positive that there were only three, as he had counted that number of
plates and knives and forks, and had, moreover, found three worn-out
pairs of shoes.  Their hunger put a speedy end to the discussion, and
made them continue their search for food.  Birds flitted by them, but
they had no fowling-pieces, and in vain they tried to knock some down.
Berries and some larger fruits hung temptingly on the trees out of reach
above their heads.

"Those birds do not live upon nothing," observed Chandos.  "If we cannot
catch them, we may at all events eat the fruit they live on."

"A bright idea," exclaimed Dickenson.  "I see a big fellow pecking away
at a yellow, juicy-looking fruit up there.  Depend on it, he finds it
ripe.  Now, if you and Ned will give me a hoist, I can manage to reach
the lowest branch, and though the boughs might break with the weight of
a heavier man, they will bear me--if not, look out and catch me."

Dickenson, with the aid of Chandos and Ned--the first of whom mounted on
the others' shoulders--soon clambered up the tree, and though the
branches bent with his weight, he managed to throw down several ripe
fruit.  Having put two or three in his pocket, he retired to the inner
end of a branch to stop the cravings of hunger, while Chandos and Ned
were employed in the same way below.  The fruit had stones in the
centre, and was more mealy and much richer than a pear.

Ralph and Jacob had in the meantime gone down to the beach to collect
mussels or other shell-fish.  Chandos shouted to them, but as they did
not hear him, he set off with a supply of the fruit in his pockets.
They had found shell-fish in abundance, and had collected as many as
they could require.  Having no means of lighting a fire, they were
obliged to eat them uncooked; but notwithstanding this, with the aid of
the fruit, they contrived to make a hearty meal.  Having thus somewhat
recruited their strength, although they would gladly have thrown
themselves on the ground and gone to sleep, they determined at once to
set out in search of any of their shipmates who might have escaped from
the wreck.  The distance, Ralph feared, would, however, prove
considerable, and tax their strength to the utmost.  He proposed,
therefore, that the midshipmen should remain behind, and, after taking
the rest they required, employ themselves in searching for food.

"No! no! we'll hold out as well as any of you," exclaimed Chandos.  "If
our friends require help, the more there are to give it the better."

As Ralph could not object to this he agreed that they should come.

The bay in which they had landed looked towards the rising sun, and was
thus near one end of the island, while the wreck had occurred, Ralph
calculated, close to the other.  They would have probably ravines to
cross, hills to ascend, and other impediments to encounter.  Having
collected as many shell-fish and fruit as they could carry, they--
notwithstanding their expected difficulties--set out with sturdy hearts,
determined to overcome them.

The country was generally rocky and barren.  Bleak hills destitute of
vegetation, narrow ravines, and savage gorges appeared on every side.
Often it seemed impossible that they could make any further progress;
but after several hours spent in climbing and scrambling they at length
reached the point for which they had been directing their course, on the
north-western shore.  As they approached it they observed a few spots of
a more fertile character, and below them on level ground, forming the
shores of a small bay, waved several cocoa-nut and other tropical trees.
As no other huts were seen, or any plantations, they were convinced
that the island was uninhabited.  Their chief attention was, however,
directed seaward in search of the wreck.  Though the wind had gone down,
the surf still beat furiously along the whole line of coast, so that no
boats or rafts could have reached the shore in safety.  About half a
mile off rose, from amid a mass of foam, the black rugged points of a
reef, now for a minute in sight, now concealed by the heavy rollers
which dashed over them and came rushing on with an angry roar towards
the cliffs which formed that end of the island.

"That must be the reef on which the frigate struck," said Ralph, with a
deep sigh, and tears of manly sorrow sprang to his eyes.  "Poor fellows!
Not one can have escaped."

"It's too likely," said Jacob, gazing at the spot; "the ship must have
fallen off the reef, and the current would have swept her and all on
board away."

The rest of the party shared Ralph's grief, but they had no time to
indulge in it.  He was anxious to examine the coast on the bare
possibility of any one having been washed on shore alive, and they then
would have to search for water and some sheltered spot where they might
pass the night.  With some difficulty they descended the cliffs to the
first line of beach they could discover, which extended for some
distance towards the east.  Here and there lighter pieces of the wreck
strewed the shore, but the heavier fragments had been carried away by
the current.  The wreck would serve for fire-wood, but then they had no
means of lighting a fire, and none of the pieces were large enough to be
of use towards building a hut.  They did not therefore stop to collect
them, but pushed on, still not without some faint hopes that one or more
of their shipmates might have reached the shore alive on planks or
spars.  The midshipmen, though their spirits kept them up, were,
however, much fatigued, and were longing to find a sheltered spot where
they might stop and rest.

An object in the surf now caught their sight, some way ahead, at a spot
free from rocks.  Hastening forward they found that it was a cask, and
after several efforts, at the risk of being carried off by the sea, they
succeeded in rolling it upon the beach.  It was full of beef, which,
though they were compelled to eat it raw, greatly restored their
strength.  Further on a tangled mass of rigging had already been thrown
on the shore.  Perhaps a human being might be found among it.  They ran
on, eager to examine it.  It consisted of spars and ropes and torn
canvas.  The latter might assist to form a roof for a hut, if not large
enough for a tent.  They were cutting it clear, when Chandos discovered
the stock of a musket, with part of the barrel broken off, rolled up in
its folds.

"That will not be of much use as we have no powder or shot," observed
Dickenson.

"No, but see, the lock and flint are still on it," answered Chandos.
"Hurrah!  We shall now have the means of lighting a fire."

This success encouraged them to make further search.  Several casks of
pork, and flour, and other provisions, an invaluable iron saucepan with
the lid tightly jammed on, as well as two sea-chests, with clothing and
numerous useful articles, rewarded their labours.  The wide bay they had
before seen was reached at last.  The extent of fertile ground was
smaller than they had supposed, and but few cocoa-nut trees grew on it.
Still, as the evening was advancing, and a sheltered nook near a rill of
water was discovered, they settled to go no further.  While Ralph with
Jacob and Ned were putting up a rough hut the midshipmen collected some
dry grass and broken branches.  As they were hunting about they
discovered several fungi growing near the roots of the trees.

"This stuff looks very like tinder," said Chandos.  "Let us try if it
will take a spark."

He produced the flint from the lock of the musket.  In a few minutes, by
dint of blowing and puffing, they had a blazing fire, and the iron pot
with a piece of beef in it was put on to boil.  The flour, though
damaged by the salt water, supplied them with cakes cooked under the
ashes.  They had now no longer the fear of suffering from starvation.
After an ample meal they lay down to rest, and it was broad daylight
before any of the party awoke.  The next day they resumed their search
along the shore.  More casks of beef and pork were secured, and numerous
other articles.  Among the things in one of the chests was a Bible,
which being enclosed in a leathern case had escaped injury.  The owner
had apparently but seldom opened it.  To Ralph and his companions it was
of unspeakable value.  Though he had been accustomed to read the
Scriptures on a Sunday on board ship he had seldom gone to them for
guidance and strength on other days in the week.  Now morning and
evening he read aloud from the precious volume, which from henceforth
became the source of comfort and support to the castaways.  Several days
were spent in collecting whatever the sea had thrown on the shore from
the wreck, but not a human body was found.  Probably the ship had broken
suddenly up, and all on board had been engulfed together.  Having dried
the contents of the chests, and stored them and their provisions in the
hut, they returned to the bay in which they had landed.  Its attractions
being far greater than those of any other part of the coast, in addition
to its possessing a well-built abode, they resolved to settle there.

The direct distance across the island was less than three miles, and by
a bird's-eye survey from the highest point in the centre, they
calculated that the most practicable path would be about five miles.  By
this they at once set about removing their goods; carrying them in some
parts on their shoulders, and in others dragging them on a truck, built
out of wreck timber.  The whole north shore presented no safe
landing-place, or could they have taken them round by sea much labour
would have been saved.  One of the most welcome prizes was a bundle of
fish-hooks, found in the boatswain's chest.  Lines were easily
manufactured, and less than an hour's fishing gave them food for the
day.  Birds were frequently caught in snares; and roots and fruits were
not wanting.  Thus, sterile as the island at first appeared, they had
reason to be thankful that it supplied them with everything absolutely
necessary for sustaining life.

The end of three months found them settled in the hut, following an
almost regular routine of labour.  Men-of-war's men, from their
training, dislike idleness; and the three young officers and the two men
cut out ample employment for themselves during every hour of the day.
They did not fail, however, to discuss every possible means of escaping.

The midshipmen and Ned proposed to raise the sides of their small boat
and to put to sea in her in the hopes of reaching India, or of finding
some inhabited island at which ships were likely to touch, so that they
might ultimately find their way home.

To this proposal Jacob Crane strongly objected, though Ralph was at
first rather inclined to favour it, desperate as it appeared.

"Nothing we can do to the boat can make her fit for a long voyage, even
if the weather should prove fine," observed Jacob.  "To my mind, we
ought to be thankful at being as well off as we are.  God has mercifully
saved our lives and placed us here, and here we should be content to
remain and make the best use of our time till He thinks fit to send us
relief.  If we were likely to be starved, or if there were savages
threatening to kill us, the case would be different.  It then would be
perfectly right for us to put off in our boat, and we might trust to Him
for protection.  If we had been supplied with tools, it might then have
been our duty to try and build a vessel large enough for the voyage to
India or the Cape of Good Hope; but we haven't got them, and there isn't
a shipwright among us.  Perhaps some vessel may be wrecked on the coast,
and we may be the means of saving the lives of the people aboard her.
Depend on it God has always got a purpose in all that He does or allows,
though we don't see it--that's my firm belief--therefore I say again,
let us be content with the blessings God has sent us, and be resigned to
His will."

Jacob's argument decided Ralph, and won over the rest of the party.

Though their boat was not large enough for a voyage, they made frequent
trips in her along the coast, and were by her means able to catch many
more fish than they could have caught from the rocks.

A few seeds were found in the hut, and several plants which had been
left in the ground sprang up, so that they were able to restore the
garden, which had been destroyed, and also greatly to increase its size.

The discovery of some strong fibre enabled them to manufacture twine,
which served not only for fishing-lines, but as they improved in the art
of making it, they produced a fishing-net of fair size.  With this they
caught at times far more fish than they could consume, so they pickled
the remainder with salt collected from the hollows of the rocks, and had
consequently a supply during stormy weather.

Happily in one of the chests were a couple of books on navigation, and
three or four others of an interesting character.  By means of the first
Ralph was able to give instruction to the midshipmen in the science so
necessary to them in their professional career.  He also made the model
of a ship's deck and rigging, which, while it afforded a source of
amusement, gave them a more thorough knowledge than they possessed of
seamanship, while the other books were read till nearly got by heart.
Thus the youngsters' time, which might otherwise have been utterly lost,
was usefully employed.

Flagstaffs were erected on high points at the northern and southern
sides of the island: and a board was nailed to the former, with a
direction carved on it to their cove.  They were constantly on the
look-out; but months and months went by and not even a distant sail was
seen, to give them hopes that deliverance was near.  At length, even
Ralph began to fear that they were doomed to a life-long imprisonment on
that unknown islet.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Bells were ringing; bonfires blazing throughout England.  The battle of
Waterloo had been fought.  Peace, broken by the return of Napoleon from
Elba, was restored; and the great agitator of Europe was a captive on
board a British man-of-war, about to sail for Saint Helena.  Though the
nation was rejoicing, the hearts of many of all ranks, who had lost
loved ones on the field of battle, were mourning.

Jessie Flamank was not alone in her sorrow.  She was resigned; but time
had not assuaged it, nor lessened her tender love for Ralph's memory.
She had, of late, ample work, as several ladies in the neighbourhood who
had heard her history were in the habit of sending for her to assist in
making dresses for their families.  Among them was a Mrs Chandos, whose
husband, Colonel Chandos, had just returned home wounded from Waterloo,
in which battle their only son had fallen.

The bereaved mother, while arranging the mourning for her little girls,
spoke of him to Jessie, adding, with tears in her eyes, "His younger
brother perished on board the _Falcon_, five years ago, in the Indian
Ocean."

Jessie naturally became deeply interested in the poor lady, and could
not help telling her that her intended husband was an officer in the
same ship.

"We long hoped against hope that some might have escaped, and that our
son might be among the number," said Mrs Chandos; "but now we know that
we have lost both our brave boys."

"All things are possible with God, ma'am; He orders all for the best; we
should trust Him," answered Jessie, gently.

Scarcely had she reached home, when a young sailor, whom she at once
recognised as Peter Puddle, hurried up to the door.

"Oh, Miss Flamank, I am so glad to find you!" he exclaimed eagerly; "I
have been twice to the house, and was afraid that you had left it.  May
I come in?"

Jessie assured him that he was welcome.

"I have news for you.  Wonderful news, which you little expected to
hear," he continued.

"Oh, tell me!  What is it?" cried Jessie, gasping for breath, and her
heart beating violently.

"I had always heard say, what you thought also, that your father,
Captain Flamank, perished at sea; now I've got to tell you that he
didn't, for I've seen him, and he is alive and well, and he sent me on
to tell you that he would be with you soon."

"My father alive!" ejaculated Jessie.  Is she to be blamed if she felt
disappointed at hearing his name instead of Ralph's as she had expected?
Her affection for her father, long supposed dead, however, quickly
revived, and she became eager to welcome him home.

Peter told her that the captain of the ship to which he himself belonged
having died at the Cape of Good Hope, it became necessary for the
consignees to find another.  That one had been selected who, with other
officers, had just arrived after having been prisoners to the French for
several years in a remote island in the Indian Ocean.  The crews of the
captured vessels had been sent away and exchanged; but the officers had
been detained till the termination of the war, for fear that they might
give information to the English of the position of the island, the
favourite rendezvous of French privateers.

"You may suppose how surprised I was to hear that our new captain's name
was Flamank," continued Peter.  "I at once told him that I knew you, and
how kind you had been to me, and soon found that he was your father.  He
seemed never tired of asking me questions about you, and so of course I
gave him a full account of all that I thought would interest him.  He,
in return, told me a great deal about himself.  His ship had not been
wrecked, as was supposed, but had been captured by a French privateer,
on board which he had been taken.  She was shortly afterwards wrecked on
an island in the Indian Ocean, when the Frenchmen attempted to reach the
shore in their boats, leaving the prisoners on board.  The boats were
swamped, and all in them perished.  Notwithstanding this, most of the
prisoners having built a raft, pushed off on it and shared their fate.
Captain Flamank and two others, seeing signs of the gale abating,
refused to join them, and the next day landed safely in a sheltered
cove, in the neighbourhood of which they took up their abode, having
brought on shore a large store of provisions and everything they
required from the wreck before she went to pieces.  His two companions,
one of whom was wounded, died, and he was left alone for several years
till taken off by another French privateer.  From what the captain said
I have an idea that he thinks of going back there if he has an
opportunity, as he had hidden away no small amount of treasure, taken
out of the wreck, which he didn't tell the French privateer's-men of,
for more reasons than one.  First, he couldn't speak their lingo;
secondly, as bad weather was coming on, they were in a hurry to be off;
and as it was property which their countrymen had taken from English
vessels, he had no fancy to let them get it.  But I've still another
strange thing to tell you.  Soon after the captain was taken aboard the
privateer, she was chased by an English frigate during a heavy gale.
The privateer narrowly escaped shipwreck on the island they had left;
and it was the opinion of the Frenchmen, and the captain thinks they
were right, that the frigate was cast away.  There can be no doubt that
she was the _Falcon_, and he thinks that some, if not all the crew, may
have escaped, and be still living on the island."

Jessie was making many eager inquiries on the subject, when Peter,
looking at his watch, jumped up, and telling her that she would soon see
the captain, hurried away.  Before an hour was over she was clasped in
her father's arms.  He had much to hear from her of her numerous trials
and difficulties, and she in return longed to learn more about his
adventures and the supposed wreck of the _Falcon_ than Peter had told
her.  He confirmed in all points the account she had heard.

"It has always been supposed, I find, that my ship, the _Dolphin_, was
driven on shore during a hurricane in the Indian Ocean, and that all on
board had perished," continued Captain Flamank.  "The report was brought
home as you know by another English ship, the _Chieftain_, which had
been in company with us.  She herself narrowly escaped the outer end of
a reef, and was driven far away to the southward, and her master having
observed our perilous position, and not again falling in with us,
naturally concluded that we had been lost.  This I have only lately
learned.  We were truly in great danger, but happily, being carried
through an opening in the reef, were able to anchor in safety under the
lee of the land.

"We congratulated ourselves on our escape.  Scarcely, however, had we
made sail after the gale was over, than we saw standing out of a bay, a
short distance off, which a lofty headland had concealed from us, a
large ship which we soon knew to be a French privateer.  In vain we did
our utmost to escape, while we fired our stern guns in the hopes of
crippling her.  She soon ranged up alongside, when, finding that further
resistance would be useless, with a sad heart I hauled down my flag.  I
was at once transferred to the privateer with several of my men, and a
prize-crew was put on board the _Dolphin_, which sailed to the
northward.  As I never heard of her again, I suspect that she went down
in a hurricane before she reached her destination.  The privateer
cruised for some time in the southern part of the Indian Ocean, and
after taking another prize with a large amount of specie, which was of
course removed on board her, she one night was wrecked on a small rocky
island, of the existence of which no one appeared to be aware.  I will
not describe the horrors which ensued.  All discipline was lost, each
man, regardless of the rest, thinking only how he could secure his own
safety."

Captain Flamank then gave Jessie a full account of the occurrences of
which Peter had already told her.

"The years spent on that lone island, especially after the death of my
two companions, were indeed sad ones," he continued.  "Often I believed
that I should never again see the face of a fellow-creature.  I thought
of you, too, my child, left as I feared you would be when your
grandmother was taken away, alone in the hard, cruel world, with no one
to protect you from its snares, or to help you in your distress."

"But God protects those who trust in Him, and He never forsook me, but
sent me kind friends who gave me all the help I needed," exclaimed
Jessie, looking up in her father's face.

"I know that now, Jessie, but I did not then.  I should have borne my
misfortunes much better had I done so," he answered.  "That good young
fellow Peter, my mate, first put the truth before me on the voyage home.
Many men would not dare to speak as faithfully to their captain as he
did to me.  He got me to read the Bible, and showed me throughout the
Psalms God's numberless gracious promises to those who trust to Him, and
His boundless love to sinful men in the Gospels, and what ample rules
under all circumstances in life He has afforded us in the Epistles."

"Peter did not tell me of this," said Jessie.

"No, I should have supposed that he would not," answered her father; "he
is too modest and humble to boast of anything he has done.  I need not
tell you, after the years I had spent in solitude, with what joy I
welcomed the sight of a ship approaching the island.  It was greatly
damped, however, when I discovered that she was French.  Still I
resolved if I could to go on board her, hoping ultimately to make my
escape.  The very day before the wreck I had discovered the latitude and
longitude we were in, and had noted it in my pocket-book, so that I
could calculate the exact position of the island.  I had also buried all
the treasure which my companions and I had landed, and had raised over
it a mound exactly resembling those I had placed over their graves.  I
thus should be able at any time to find the spot, I thought, while no
one else was likely to disturb it.  On ascertaining from the Frenchmen
who landed that their ship was a privateer, and that they were still at
war with the English, I said nothing about the treasure, determined
rather to let it remain concealed for ever than allow them to possess
it, for I knew that though I might claim it they would without scruple
take it from me.  Of this I was convinced from the way in which they
pulled up all the vegetables in my garden and carried off everything of
value which they found in the hut.  Among other articles were my
sextant, chronometer, and nautical almanacks, which I had brought in my
chest from the _Dolphin_, though unable to use them on board the
privateer till the day I spoke of.  The chronometer I had carefully
wound up every day, and it was still going when I returned to the wreck.
I was thus able when on the island to verify my previous calculations
and to ascertain its exact position.

"Having claimed the sextant and chronometer when I was carried on board,
I was told that they were no longer mine, and care was taken that I
should not ascertain the ship's position.  In short, for several days I
was kept below, so that I could not even discover the course we were
steering.  From what I overheard, however, I found that three days after
leaving the island we were chased during a heavy gale by an English
frigate, when we narrowly escaped destruction on a reef at its western
end, on which it was supposed the frigate had been cast away.  She, I
have no doubt from what I have since heard, was the _Falcon_, to which
Ralph Michelmore belonged.  From my own experience, I have hopes if such
was the case that some of the people may have reached the shore, and are
still living there."

"Oh, father!  I cannot doubt it; and that Ralph is among them,"
exclaimed Jessie, clasping her hands.

"I pray for your sake, my child, that he may be," said Captain Flamank.
"Such scenes as took place when I was wrecked in the privateer are not
likely to have occurred on board a well-disciplined man-of-war.  After
again, as I have described, narrowly escaping shipwreck, I began to hope
that the time when I should be free and able to return to England was
approaching.  Notwithstanding the vigilance of the Frenchmen, I managed
on several occasions to creep on deck at night, when a glance at the
stars in the clear sky overhead assured me that the ship was steering to
the northward, and as I supposed to one of the French settlements in
India.  What was my surprise, therefore, to find one morning that we
were standing towards a small hilly island, with the appearance of which
I was totally unacquainted.  On being seen by the captain I was sent
below, and when I was allowed to return on deck I discovered that we
were in a completely land-locked harbour, with several other ships at
anchor, most of which I knew from their build to be English.  Lofty
cliffs circled nearly round the harbour, concealing the masts even of
the largest ships from being seen by any passing stranger.  In one place
the land sloped more gradually from the water, and on it were a number
of huts, mostly well-built and of considerable size, forming a regular
village.  Some way above the village were several more huts surrounded
by a high palisade with a gateway, before which paced a couple of
sentries.  I had not had much time to make my observations when I was
ordered into a boat, and on landing was at once conducted up to the
last-mentioned group of huts.  Entering the gate I was led into a hut
close to it, in which sat an officer who told me that I must consider
myself a prisoner of war, and that as the English shut up the French who
fell into their hands in Porchester Castle, I had no reason to complain.
I urged that I had not been taken prisoner, and that after years of
absence from my home I was anxious to return there.  He shrugged his
shoulders, smiling grimly, and made no reply.  I found between thirty
and forty persons living within the palisade, most of them masters and
mates of captured ships.  Several had been there from nearly the
commencement of the war.  They told me that they were strictly watched,
and that they found it impossible to send letters home to inform their
friends of their fate.  Civilians and common seamen had of late not been
allowed to land, but had been sent away immediately; the object of the
French being, it was evident, to conceal this convenient rendezvous of
their privateers from the enemy.  I found this account too true, and
though I made many attempts to send letters to you I was unable to
succeed.  We were not otherwise harshly treated, but we all pined for
freedom, and great was our joy when peace was concluded, and we were
sent off to the Cape.  Care was even then taken to prevent us from
learning the exact position of the island of our captivity; but we
ascertained it pretty correctly, and should another war break out it is
not likely to be again used for the same purpose.  On reaching the Cape
I at once obtained, as you know, the command of a ship, and thus had no
means of informing you of my existence before my arrival."

Much more interesting conversation, as may be supposed, passed between
the father and daughter.

Jessie was very anxious to repeat what she had heard to her friend Mrs
Chandos, and Captain Flamank consented to accompany her to the house of
that lady.  What mother could listen to such a narrative without the
hope arising that her son might be among those who had escaped?  Colonel
Chandos, though less sanguine than his wife, was willing to make every
effort necessary to ascertain the truth.

With the aid of the friends of other officers of the _Falcon_, a fine
brig, the _Hope_, was chartered and quickly fitted out, Captain Flamank
taking the command of her, with Peter as one of his mates.  A picked
crew having been easily obtained, she sailed on her long voyage.

Jessie knew that she must pass many anxious months before the brig could
return; but would not He Who had restored her father to her have
preserved also her still fondly loved Ralph?  She had many kind friends
to comfort and encourage her; and the warm sympathy of Mrs Chandos
assisted greatly to keep up her spirits.

We might follow the _Hope_ on her course.  We can picture the delight of
the exiles as they saw a brig, with English colours flying, heave-to off
the bay, and her boat approach the shore.  We can imagine their
surprise, as they warmly grasped his hand on landing, when Captain
Flamank announced himself as the former occupant of the hut, and, after
the first greetings were over, led them to the spot which they had
supposed was a grave, and with their assistance unearthed the
long-hidden treasure.

We need scarcely speak of the eager questions Ralph put to the captain
about Jessie, or say that before night the exiles with the treasure were
on board the brig, and that she was on her homeward voyage.

Seven months had passed since the _Hope_ had sailed, and Jessie had
begun anxiously to count the days and hours as they went slowly by.
That her Ralph would return she felt sure.  Often she went to a spot
whence she could gaze down the Sound, in expectation of seeing the brig
with her white canvas spread gliding up it; but as often was she
disappointed.  Many a vessel left the harbour with a favouring breeze
which kept the homeward bound at a distance.  She had one day been asked
to visit Mrs Chandos, with whom she was seated, when voices were heard
in the hall, and soon afterwards the colonel entered the room.

"Prepare yourselves for a joyful event," he said, looking at his wife
and Jessie.  "Some young naval officers have just arrived, and if you
will accompany me, Miss Flamank, I will lead you to the dining-room,
where you will find one of them whom you know."

As they left the room a stranger sprang by them, and Jessie heard Mrs
Chandos exclaim, "My son!  My own dear boy!"  In another instant Jessie
was weeping tears of joy, supported in the arms of Ralph.

They were soon joined by her father and Dickenson, who, after spending a
few hours with his friends, set off to afford a happy surprise to his
own family in Hampshire.

Their voyage home had been prosperous, excepting the loss of a man
overboard who had joined the brig at the Cape.

"He was in a wretched condition, produced by drunkenness; but the
captain could not refuse him a passage," observed Ralph.  "I knew him
directly he came on board, though he entered under a feigned name, as my
old shipmate Dick Bracewell; but I don't think he recognised me.  He no
longer appeared the smart seaman he once was; indeed, he could with
difficulty perform his duty.  I intended, however, to make myself known,
and to speak to him with earnestness and kindness, when during the only
gale we encountered, directly after leaving the Cape, he fell from the
fore-topsail yard, and before an effort could be made to save him he had
sunk for ever."

Jessie did not till long afterwards tell Ralph of the way his old
shipmate had behaved to her.

"I forgive him," said Ralph.  "When a man once leaves the right course
and takes to drinking as unhappy Dick did, it is impossible to say of
what vile actions he may be guilty."

Ralph and Jessie were married shortly after the return of the _Hope_.
And Chandos, who acted as best-man to his old messmate, declared that it
was the happiest day of his life.

They neither of them again went to sea, Ralph having been appointed to
the coastguard, in which service he obtained a situation for Jacob
Crane; while Captain Flamank enjoyed an ample competency from the
treasure he had brought home in the _Hope_.  Of that vessel, which the
captain purchased, honest Peter, in the course of a few years, obtained
the command.  She proved a more fortunate craft than the _Amity_, and
being well formed, and well manned, and well commanded, never failed to
bring in to him and her liberal owner a good return.

Ralph and Jessie enjoyed many years of happiness, ever acknowledging
that all the trials and anxieties through which they had gone had been
ordered for the best, and ever grateful for the present blessings
bestowed on them.

THE END.






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