Chapter Twenty Six.

Chapter Twenty Six.A Miraculous Escape.The Spanish crew understood his gestures more than his words, and with might and main pulled back to the flag-ship. As we went on, the shot fell like hail around us, but providentially none of us were hit. On getting to the opposite side of the ship, the admiral and Vernon were lifted on board. The rest of us quickly followed. Vernon was at once carried below to be placed under the care of the surgeon; while, without waiting to change our wet clothes, we hurried to the guns, to encourage the Spanish crew, some of whom appeared to think they had had enough of it. Don Barcelo, however, retired to his cabin, and, having changed his uniform, shortly afterwards reappeared. He showed no wish, however, to make another attempt to land, but sent off despatches by an officer to the commander of the land forces. What were their contents did not at the time transpire. He continued, however, pacing the deck, watching, as far as the smoke would allow, the other ships, and the forts opposed to us.“I very much doubt whether we shall thrash the Algerines after all,” said Nettleship to me. “The villains fight desperately, and I can’t see that we have made a single breach in any part of the walls. See! two more of our galleys have sunk; and I have seen half-a-dozen gun or mortar boats go down. Several of the ships and frigates are already tremendously cut about. The old Don is a plucky fellow, or he wouldn’t keep at it so long.”While he was speaking the admiral came up, pointing first towards a sinking vessel, and then at one of the boats alongside.“Just ask him, Paddy, if he doesn’t want me to go and rescue the fellows,” said Nettleship. I addressed the admiral in French, which he understood tolerably well.“Yes, I shall be obliged to him if he will. My officers and men are required to fight the ship,” answered the admiral.“They don’t exactly like the sort of work,” observed Nettleship; “but I’ll go willingly.”“And I will go with you,” I said.We ran down and got into the boat, followed by Larry and Patchett, the rest of our crew being made up of Spaniards, who were ordered by their officers to man the boat. Away we pulled, and had time to save a good many people from the vessel, which had sunk before we reached her. We were exposed all the time to the shot, which came splashing into the water close to us. I heartily hoped that none would come aboard, for, crowded as the boat was, a number of the people must have been killed. There was no necessity to tell the Spanish crew to give way, for they were eager enough to get back.Soon after returning on board, the admiral, having received intelligence from the shore that the attack had again failed, threw out a signal to his ships to discontinue the action. Fortunately the wind enabled us to stand off the shore, in spite of the shattered condition of many of the ships, when we anchored out of range of the enemy’s guns. As soon as we had brought up, Nettleship and I went down to see Vernon. Though the surgeon had told him that the wound was a bad one, he didn’t complain.“I fear, after all, that we shall not succeed, and I advise you, Nettleship, to return on board your brig, and get her into a condition to put to sea,” he said. “The admiral may not be able to help you as I could wish, and you will have to look out for yourself.”Nettleship thanked him for his advice, saying that he intended to follow it, as we could not further assist the cause, and that it was our duty to get the brig to Gibraltar as soon as possible.The admiral had invited both of us to supper in the cabin. He spoke in the highest terms of Vernon, and said that he had intended to give him command of one of his ships, that he might lead the next attack.“I wish, gentlemen, also to show you my high sense of the assistance you have rendered me by coming on board,” he added.When I translated this to Nettleship, he said—“Tell the old fellow that I shall be obliged to him if he’ll send a dozen of his best hands, with such spars and rigging as we require, to set up jury-masts.”“It shall be done to-morrow,” replied the admiral. “I intend to give the crew of my ships a short breathing-time before I again renew the attack.”Though we were ready enough to fight, we were not sorry to find the next day that the old Don was as good as his word, and had sent us on board a sufficient number of spars, which, with the aid of his men, enabled us to set up jury-masts, and to get the brig into condition for putting to sea. The Spaniards worked very well, and as soon as their task was accomplished, Larry offered to give them a tune on his fiddle.When, however, he began scraping away, instead of jumping up, and toeing and heeling it as Frenchmen would have done, they stood with their arms folded, gravely listening to his strains.“Arrah, now, my boys, there is no quicksilver in your heels,” he exclaimed, observing their apathy. “What’s the use of playing to such grave dons as you?” We then tried them with a song, but with no better effect. At last their officer, who took supper with us in the cabin, ordered them into the boat, and they pulled back to their ship.“I say, Paddy,” said Tom, “I wish that you would let me go instead of you to-morrow, if the dons make another attack on the city. I daresay Nettleship will consent, if you ask him.”I did not like to disappoint Tom, but at the same time, as I should thereby be avoiding danger, it was just the request to which I could not well agree.Nettleship, however, settled the matter. “To tell you the truth,” he answered, “I have been thinking over what is our duty, and have arrived at the conclusion that, now the brig is ready for sea, we ought to make the best of our way to Gibraltar. As far as I can judge, no impression has been made on the city; and if the Spaniards and their allies could not succeed while their ships were in good order, they are less likely to do anything now. Had the Spanish admiral requested our assistance, we should have been bound to afford it; but as he said nothing on the subject, I don’t feel called upon to offer it again.”We, however, remained at anchor during the night. The next day the fleet showed no signs of renewing the attack, though righting was taking place on shore. Nettleship, however, having desired me to accompany him, we pulled on board the flag-ship to bid farewell to Don Barcelo and Henry Vernon. The admiral again thanked us, but, from the remarks he made, I judged that he was rather anxious than otherwise that we should go away, so as not to witness his defeat. When I wished him success, he looked very gloomy, and made no reply. Having paid him our respects, we went down into the cockpit to see Vernon, who was, we were sorry to find, suffering greatly. The surgeon, however, who was present, assured me that his wound was not mortal, though it would be some time before he recovered. When Nettleship told him his intention of leaving the fleet, he replied that it was the wisest thing he could do.“If you could speak Spanish you might have taken the command of the ship which was to have been given to me; but as it is, the men would not place confidence in you, and you could do nothing with them; so, to tell you the truth, I think you are well out of it. Our success is very uncertain. The troops on shore have again been defeated with heavy loss, and I suspect have been so demoralised that they’ll take to flight whenever the enemy rush out upon them.”These remarks strengthened Nettleship in his resolution, and, wishing our new friend good-bye, we pulled back to the brig. The wind was from the south-east, and Nettleship thought it prudent to get a good offing before night, lest it should again shift and blow us back towards the land. The brig sailed under her reduced canvas tolerably well, and before daybreak the next morning we had made fair progress towards Gibraltar. As the sun rose, however, the weather gave signs of changing. The wind veered round to the north-west, and blew heavily directly towards the Bay of Algiers.“Don Barcelo and his fleet will catch it, I’m afraid, if they don’t manage to get out of the bay before this gale reaches them,” remarked Nettleship. “I’m very thankful that we put to sea, or we should have fared ill.”As it was, we ran a great risk of losing our masts; but they were well set up, and we shortened sail in good time, and were able to keep our course. Our chief anxiety, however, was for the gallant Henry Vernon; for should the flag-ship drive on shore, he would to a certainty lose his life.“We must hope for the best,” observed Nettleship; “theGuerrerowas less damaged than many of the other ships, and may be able to ride it out at anchor, or claw off shore.”As we could never manage to get more than four knots an hour out of the brig, we were a considerable time reaching Gibraltar. To our satisfaction we found theJasonwas still there. We were warmly congratulated on our return on board, as from our non-appearance for so long a time it was supposed that we had either been lost in a squall, or that the brig had been taken by another pirate. We were much disappointed to find that the brig had to be delivered up to the authorities at Gibraltar, as we fully expected that Nettleship would have been ordered to take her home. Though she was an especially detestable craft, yet he and Tom Pim and I were very happy together, and we had enjoyed an independence which was not to be obtained on board the frigate. When Lord Robert got tired of Gibraltar, we sailed to the eastward, and again brought up in the Bay of Naples. We here heard of the failure of the expedition against the Algerines. Nearly half the troops had been cut to pieces in the repeated and resolute sallies made by the Moors. During the gale we had encountered, the ships narrowly escaped being wrecked. Several smaller vessels sank, and all were severely damaged. The troops were finally embarked, and the ships got back to the ports from which they had sailed, with neither honour nor glory to boast of. Their ill success encouraged the pirates in their warfare against civilised nations. The people of Tripoli, Tunis, and other places imitated their example, so that the voyage up the Straits became one of considerable danger in those days. After leaving Naples we stood up the Mediterranean to Alexandria, where we saw Pompey’s Pillar and Cleopatra’s Needle, and other wonderful things in the neighbourhood, of which I will not bother my readers with a description. On our way we kept a sharp look-out for Tunisian or Algerine rovers; but as we were known to be in those seas, they took good care that we should not get a sight of them, and our cruise was bootless as far as prizes were concerned. Lord Robert managed to eke out a few more weeks at Naples, the pleasantest place, he observed, at which he could bring up. Thence we sailed to Gibraltar, where we found orders awaiting us to return to England.“I have managed it very cleverly,” said Lord Robert to Mr Saunders. “When I was last here, I wrote to some private friends in the Admiralty, telling them I was getting heartily tired of the Mediterranean, and requesting that we might be sent home; and you see how readily their Lordships have complied with my wishes. Their willingness arose from the fact that I’m going to stand for one of our family boroughs, and have promised the Ministry my support.”“It would be a good job for Dick Saunders if he had a friend at court to look after his interests,” said the first lieutenant; “but as he knows not a soul who would lift a finger to help him, he must be content to remain at the foot of the rattlins, till a lucky chance gives him a lift up them.”“Don’t be down-hearted, my dear fellow,” said Lord Robert in a patronising tone. “When once I’m in Parliament I’ll look after your interests. The First Lord is sure to ask me to name some deserving officers for promotion, and I’ll not forget you.”We had contrary winds, and then we were hove-to for two or three days, during a heavy gale in the Bay of Biscay. After that we were kept knocking about in the Chops of the Channel for a week, when, the wind shifting, we ran for Plymouth Sound, and came to an anchor in Hamoaze.Lord Robert immediately went on shore, and we all wondered what would next happen to us.We had no reason to complain. We got plenty of leave. Tom and I accompanied Nettleship to pay a visit to his family. I won’t describe it just now, except to say that we were received in as kind a way as before.We guessed that if Lord Robert was returned to Parliament we should have no further chance of seeing any foreign service while the ship remained in commission. Nettleship, indeed, was of opinion that before long she would be paid off.I wrote home to say where we were, and in the course of a fortnight received a letter from the major, telling me to come to Ballinahone if I wished to see my father alive. I with difficulty obtained leave on urgent family affairs, and next day, going to the Catwater, I found a small hooker belonging to Cork, just about to return there. Although she was not the sort of craft aboard which I should have chosen to take a passage, yet as she was likely to afford the most speedy way of getting to my destination, I forthwith engaged berths for myself and Larry, for whom I also got leave.Nettleship and Tom went on board with me. There was a little cabin aft, about eight feet square, with a sleeping place on either side, one of which was occupied by the skipper, while I was to enjoy the comforts of the other. The crew, consisting of three men and a boy, were berthed forward, in a place of still smaller dimensions, and only just affording room for Larry.“I would rather you had gone to sea in a stouter craft,” said Nettleship; “but as the skipper tells me he has made the passage a dozen times a year for the last twenty years, I hope he’ll carry you across in safety.”The wind was light, and my messmates remained on board, while the hooker towed their boat some way down the Sound.Wishing me farewell, they then pulled back to Hamoaze, and we stood on, fully expecting to be well on our voyage by the next morning. During the night, however, a strong south-westerly breeze sprang up, and the skipper considered it prudent to put back to Cawsand Bay, at the entrance to the Sound.Here, greatly to my disgust, we lay the best part of a week, with a number of other weather-bound vessels. I dared not go on shore lest the wind should change, and had nothing to do but to take a fisherman’s walk on deck,—three steps and overboard.Larry had, of course, brought his fiddle, with which he entertained the crew, who were as happy as princes, it being a matter of indifference to them where they were, provided they had the privilege of being idle.The skipper, who had remained on board all the time, at last one day went ashore, saying that he must go and buy some provisions, as our stock was running short. We had hitherto been supplied by bumboats with vegetables and poultry, so that I had not supposed we were in want of any.I had fortunately brought two or three books with me, and had been sitting reading by the light of the swinging lamp in the small cabin, when, feeling sleepy, I went to bed. I was awakened by hearing some one entering the cabin, and, looking out of my berth, I observed that it was the skipper, who, after making a lurch to one side, then to another, turned in, as far as I could see, all standing. This, however, did not surprise me, as I thought he might be intending to sail early in the morning.Soon after daylight I awoke, and, having dressed, went on deck, when what was my surprise to find that all the other vessels had got under weigh, and were standing out of the bay.I tried to rouse up the skipper, but for some time could not succeed. When he opened his eyes, by the stupid way he stared at me, it was very evident that he had been drunk, and had scarcely yet recovered. I told him that a northerly breeze had sprung up, and that we had already lost some hours of it. At last, getting up, he came on deck, and ordered his crew to heave up the anchor and make sail; but this they could not have done without Larry’s and my assistance.As I hoped that the skipper would soon recover, I did not trouble myself much about the matter. He had brought the stores he had procured in a couple of hampers, which I found on deck. They contained, as I afterwards discovered, not only provisions, but sundry bottles of whisky.There being a fresh breeze, the little hooker ran swiftly along over the blue ocean; the Eddystone being soon left astern and the Lizard sighted. The skipper told me he intended to run through the passage between the Scilly Islands and the main.“If the wind holds as it does now,” he said, “we’ll be in Cork harbour in a jiffy. Shure the little hooker would find her way there if we were all to turn in and go to sleep till she gets up to Passage.”“As I’m not so confident of that same, captain, I must beg you to keep your wits about you till you put me ashore,” I observed.He gave me a wink in reply, but said nothing.During the day I walked the deck, going into the cabin only for meals. The skipper spent most of his time there, only putting up his head now and then to see how the wind was, and to give directions to the man at the helm. From the way the crew talked, I began to suspect that they had obtained some liquor from the shore, probably by the boat which brought the skipper off. Not being altogether satisfied with the state of things, I offered to keep watch. The skipper at once agreed to this, and suggested that I should keep the middle watch, while he kept the first.Before I went below the wind veered round almost ahead. The night, I observed, was very dark; and as there was no moon in the sky, while a thick mist came rolling across the water, had I not supposed that the skipper was tolerably sober I should have remained on deck; but, feeling very sleepy, I went below, though thinking it prudent not to take off my clothes. I lay down in the berth just as I was. I could hear the skipper talking to the man at the helm, and it appeared to me that the vessel was moving faster through the water than before. Then I fell off to sleep.How long I had slept I could not tell, when I was awakened by a loud crash. I sprang out of my berth, and instinctively rushed up the companion ladder. Just then I dimly saw a spar over me, and, clutching it, was the next moment carried along away from the deck of the vessel, which disappeared beneath my feet. I heard voices shouting, and cries apparently from the hooker. The night was so dark that I could scarcely see a foot above me. I scrambled up what I found must be the dolphin striker of a vessel, and thence on to her bowsprit.“Here’s one of them,” I heard some one sing out, as I made my way on to the forecastle of what I supposed was a ship of war.My first thought was for Larry.“What has become of the hooker?” I exclaimed. Has any one else been saved?The question was repeated by the officer of the watch, who now came hurrying forward.No answer was returned.“I fear the vessel must have gone down. We shouted to her to keep her luff, but no attention was paid, and she ran right under our bows,” said the officer.“I’m not certain that she sank,” I answered. “She appeared to me to be capsizing, and I hope may be still afloat.”“We will look for her, at all events,” said the officer; and he gave the necessary orders to bring the ship to the wind, and then to go about.So dark was the night, however, that we might have passed close to a vessel without seeing her, though eager eyes were looking out on either side.Having stood on a little way we again tacked, and for three hours kept beating backwards and forwards; but our search was in vain.The vessel which had run down the hooker was, I found, H.M. brig of warOsprey, commander Hartland, on her passage home from the North American station.“You have had a narrow escape of it,” observed the commander, who came on deck immediately on being informed of what had occurred. “I am truly glad that you have been saved, and wish that we had been able to pick up the crew. I have done all I can,” he said at length, “and I feel sure that if the hooker had remained afloat, we must have passed close to her.”“I am afraid that you are right, sir,” I said, and I gave vent to a groan, if I did not actually burst into tears, as I thought of the cheery spirits of my faithful follower Larry being quenched in death.

The Spanish crew understood his gestures more than his words, and with might and main pulled back to the flag-ship. As we went on, the shot fell like hail around us, but providentially none of us were hit. On getting to the opposite side of the ship, the admiral and Vernon were lifted on board. The rest of us quickly followed. Vernon was at once carried below to be placed under the care of the surgeon; while, without waiting to change our wet clothes, we hurried to the guns, to encourage the Spanish crew, some of whom appeared to think they had had enough of it. Don Barcelo, however, retired to his cabin, and, having changed his uniform, shortly afterwards reappeared. He showed no wish, however, to make another attempt to land, but sent off despatches by an officer to the commander of the land forces. What were their contents did not at the time transpire. He continued, however, pacing the deck, watching, as far as the smoke would allow, the other ships, and the forts opposed to us.

“I very much doubt whether we shall thrash the Algerines after all,” said Nettleship to me. “The villains fight desperately, and I can’t see that we have made a single breach in any part of the walls. See! two more of our galleys have sunk; and I have seen half-a-dozen gun or mortar boats go down. Several of the ships and frigates are already tremendously cut about. The old Don is a plucky fellow, or he wouldn’t keep at it so long.”

While he was speaking the admiral came up, pointing first towards a sinking vessel, and then at one of the boats alongside.

“Just ask him, Paddy, if he doesn’t want me to go and rescue the fellows,” said Nettleship. I addressed the admiral in French, which he understood tolerably well.

“Yes, I shall be obliged to him if he will. My officers and men are required to fight the ship,” answered the admiral.

“They don’t exactly like the sort of work,” observed Nettleship; “but I’ll go willingly.”

“And I will go with you,” I said.

We ran down and got into the boat, followed by Larry and Patchett, the rest of our crew being made up of Spaniards, who were ordered by their officers to man the boat. Away we pulled, and had time to save a good many people from the vessel, which had sunk before we reached her. We were exposed all the time to the shot, which came splashing into the water close to us. I heartily hoped that none would come aboard, for, crowded as the boat was, a number of the people must have been killed. There was no necessity to tell the Spanish crew to give way, for they were eager enough to get back.

Soon after returning on board, the admiral, having received intelligence from the shore that the attack had again failed, threw out a signal to his ships to discontinue the action. Fortunately the wind enabled us to stand off the shore, in spite of the shattered condition of many of the ships, when we anchored out of range of the enemy’s guns. As soon as we had brought up, Nettleship and I went down to see Vernon. Though the surgeon had told him that the wound was a bad one, he didn’t complain.

“I fear, after all, that we shall not succeed, and I advise you, Nettleship, to return on board your brig, and get her into a condition to put to sea,” he said. “The admiral may not be able to help you as I could wish, and you will have to look out for yourself.”

Nettleship thanked him for his advice, saying that he intended to follow it, as we could not further assist the cause, and that it was our duty to get the brig to Gibraltar as soon as possible.

The admiral had invited both of us to supper in the cabin. He spoke in the highest terms of Vernon, and said that he had intended to give him command of one of his ships, that he might lead the next attack.

“I wish, gentlemen, also to show you my high sense of the assistance you have rendered me by coming on board,” he added.

When I translated this to Nettleship, he said—

“Tell the old fellow that I shall be obliged to him if he’ll send a dozen of his best hands, with such spars and rigging as we require, to set up jury-masts.”

“It shall be done to-morrow,” replied the admiral. “I intend to give the crew of my ships a short breathing-time before I again renew the attack.”

Though we were ready enough to fight, we were not sorry to find the next day that the old Don was as good as his word, and had sent us on board a sufficient number of spars, which, with the aid of his men, enabled us to set up jury-masts, and to get the brig into condition for putting to sea. The Spaniards worked very well, and as soon as their task was accomplished, Larry offered to give them a tune on his fiddle.

When, however, he began scraping away, instead of jumping up, and toeing and heeling it as Frenchmen would have done, they stood with their arms folded, gravely listening to his strains.

“Arrah, now, my boys, there is no quicksilver in your heels,” he exclaimed, observing their apathy. “What’s the use of playing to such grave dons as you?” We then tried them with a song, but with no better effect. At last their officer, who took supper with us in the cabin, ordered them into the boat, and they pulled back to their ship.

“I say, Paddy,” said Tom, “I wish that you would let me go instead of you to-morrow, if the dons make another attack on the city. I daresay Nettleship will consent, if you ask him.”

I did not like to disappoint Tom, but at the same time, as I should thereby be avoiding danger, it was just the request to which I could not well agree.

Nettleship, however, settled the matter. “To tell you the truth,” he answered, “I have been thinking over what is our duty, and have arrived at the conclusion that, now the brig is ready for sea, we ought to make the best of our way to Gibraltar. As far as I can judge, no impression has been made on the city; and if the Spaniards and their allies could not succeed while their ships were in good order, they are less likely to do anything now. Had the Spanish admiral requested our assistance, we should have been bound to afford it; but as he said nothing on the subject, I don’t feel called upon to offer it again.”

We, however, remained at anchor during the night. The next day the fleet showed no signs of renewing the attack, though righting was taking place on shore. Nettleship, however, having desired me to accompany him, we pulled on board the flag-ship to bid farewell to Don Barcelo and Henry Vernon. The admiral again thanked us, but, from the remarks he made, I judged that he was rather anxious than otherwise that we should go away, so as not to witness his defeat. When I wished him success, he looked very gloomy, and made no reply. Having paid him our respects, we went down into the cockpit to see Vernon, who was, we were sorry to find, suffering greatly. The surgeon, however, who was present, assured me that his wound was not mortal, though it would be some time before he recovered. When Nettleship told him his intention of leaving the fleet, he replied that it was the wisest thing he could do.

“If you could speak Spanish you might have taken the command of the ship which was to have been given to me; but as it is, the men would not place confidence in you, and you could do nothing with them; so, to tell you the truth, I think you are well out of it. Our success is very uncertain. The troops on shore have again been defeated with heavy loss, and I suspect have been so demoralised that they’ll take to flight whenever the enemy rush out upon them.”

These remarks strengthened Nettleship in his resolution, and, wishing our new friend good-bye, we pulled back to the brig. The wind was from the south-east, and Nettleship thought it prudent to get a good offing before night, lest it should again shift and blow us back towards the land. The brig sailed under her reduced canvas tolerably well, and before daybreak the next morning we had made fair progress towards Gibraltar. As the sun rose, however, the weather gave signs of changing. The wind veered round to the north-west, and blew heavily directly towards the Bay of Algiers.

“Don Barcelo and his fleet will catch it, I’m afraid, if they don’t manage to get out of the bay before this gale reaches them,” remarked Nettleship. “I’m very thankful that we put to sea, or we should have fared ill.”

As it was, we ran a great risk of losing our masts; but they were well set up, and we shortened sail in good time, and were able to keep our course. Our chief anxiety, however, was for the gallant Henry Vernon; for should the flag-ship drive on shore, he would to a certainty lose his life.

“We must hope for the best,” observed Nettleship; “theGuerrerowas less damaged than many of the other ships, and may be able to ride it out at anchor, or claw off shore.”

As we could never manage to get more than four knots an hour out of the brig, we were a considerable time reaching Gibraltar. To our satisfaction we found theJasonwas still there. We were warmly congratulated on our return on board, as from our non-appearance for so long a time it was supposed that we had either been lost in a squall, or that the brig had been taken by another pirate. We were much disappointed to find that the brig had to be delivered up to the authorities at Gibraltar, as we fully expected that Nettleship would have been ordered to take her home. Though she was an especially detestable craft, yet he and Tom Pim and I were very happy together, and we had enjoyed an independence which was not to be obtained on board the frigate. When Lord Robert got tired of Gibraltar, we sailed to the eastward, and again brought up in the Bay of Naples. We here heard of the failure of the expedition against the Algerines. Nearly half the troops had been cut to pieces in the repeated and resolute sallies made by the Moors. During the gale we had encountered, the ships narrowly escaped being wrecked. Several smaller vessels sank, and all were severely damaged. The troops were finally embarked, and the ships got back to the ports from which they had sailed, with neither honour nor glory to boast of. Their ill success encouraged the pirates in their warfare against civilised nations. The people of Tripoli, Tunis, and other places imitated their example, so that the voyage up the Straits became one of considerable danger in those days. After leaving Naples we stood up the Mediterranean to Alexandria, where we saw Pompey’s Pillar and Cleopatra’s Needle, and other wonderful things in the neighbourhood, of which I will not bother my readers with a description. On our way we kept a sharp look-out for Tunisian or Algerine rovers; but as we were known to be in those seas, they took good care that we should not get a sight of them, and our cruise was bootless as far as prizes were concerned. Lord Robert managed to eke out a few more weeks at Naples, the pleasantest place, he observed, at which he could bring up. Thence we sailed to Gibraltar, where we found orders awaiting us to return to England.

“I have managed it very cleverly,” said Lord Robert to Mr Saunders. “When I was last here, I wrote to some private friends in the Admiralty, telling them I was getting heartily tired of the Mediterranean, and requesting that we might be sent home; and you see how readily their Lordships have complied with my wishes. Their willingness arose from the fact that I’m going to stand for one of our family boroughs, and have promised the Ministry my support.”

“It would be a good job for Dick Saunders if he had a friend at court to look after his interests,” said the first lieutenant; “but as he knows not a soul who would lift a finger to help him, he must be content to remain at the foot of the rattlins, till a lucky chance gives him a lift up them.”

“Don’t be down-hearted, my dear fellow,” said Lord Robert in a patronising tone. “When once I’m in Parliament I’ll look after your interests. The First Lord is sure to ask me to name some deserving officers for promotion, and I’ll not forget you.”

We had contrary winds, and then we were hove-to for two or three days, during a heavy gale in the Bay of Biscay. After that we were kept knocking about in the Chops of the Channel for a week, when, the wind shifting, we ran for Plymouth Sound, and came to an anchor in Hamoaze.

Lord Robert immediately went on shore, and we all wondered what would next happen to us.

We had no reason to complain. We got plenty of leave. Tom and I accompanied Nettleship to pay a visit to his family. I won’t describe it just now, except to say that we were received in as kind a way as before.

We guessed that if Lord Robert was returned to Parliament we should have no further chance of seeing any foreign service while the ship remained in commission. Nettleship, indeed, was of opinion that before long she would be paid off.

I wrote home to say where we were, and in the course of a fortnight received a letter from the major, telling me to come to Ballinahone if I wished to see my father alive. I with difficulty obtained leave on urgent family affairs, and next day, going to the Catwater, I found a small hooker belonging to Cork, just about to return there. Although she was not the sort of craft aboard which I should have chosen to take a passage, yet as she was likely to afford the most speedy way of getting to my destination, I forthwith engaged berths for myself and Larry, for whom I also got leave.

Nettleship and Tom went on board with me. There was a little cabin aft, about eight feet square, with a sleeping place on either side, one of which was occupied by the skipper, while I was to enjoy the comforts of the other. The crew, consisting of three men and a boy, were berthed forward, in a place of still smaller dimensions, and only just affording room for Larry.

“I would rather you had gone to sea in a stouter craft,” said Nettleship; “but as the skipper tells me he has made the passage a dozen times a year for the last twenty years, I hope he’ll carry you across in safety.”

The wind was light, and my messmates remained on board, while the hooker towed their boat some way down the Sound.

Wishing me farewell, they then pulled back to Hamoaze, and we stood on, fully expecting to be well on our voyage by the next morning. During the night, however, a strong south-westerly breeze sprang up, and the skipper considered it prudent to put back to Cawsand Bay, at the entrance to the Sound.

Here, greatly to my disgust, we lay the best part of a week, with a number of other weather-bound vessels. I dared not go on shore lest the wind should change, and had nothing to do but to take a fisherman’s walk on deck,—three steps and overboard.

Larry had, of course, brought his fiddle, with which he entertained the crew, who were as happy as princes, it being a matter of indifference to them where they were, provided they had the privilege of being idle.

The skipper, who had remained on board all the time, at last one day went ashore, saying that he must go and buy some provisions, as our stock was running short. We had hitherto been supplied by bumboats with vegetables and poultry, so that I had not supposed we were in want of any.

I had fortunately brought two or three books with me, and had been sitting reading by the light of the swinging lamp in the small cabin, when, feeling sleepy, I went to bed. I was awakened by hearing some one entering the cabin, and, looking out of my berth, I observed that it was the skipper, who, after making a lurch to one side, then to another, turned in, as far as I could see, all standing. This, however, did not surprise me, as I thought he might be intending to sail early in the morning.

Soon after daylight I awoke, and, having dressed, went on deck, when what was my surprise to find that all the other vessels had got under weigh, and were standing out of the bay.

I tried to rouse up the skipper, but for some time could not succeed. When he opened his eyes, by the stupid way he stared at me, it was very evident that he had been drunk, and had scarcely yet recovered. I told him that a northerly breeze had sprung up, and that we had already lost some hours of it. At last, getting up, he came on deck, and ordered his crew to heave up the anchor and make sail; but this they could not have done without Larry’s and my assistance.

As I hoped that the skipper would soon recover, I did not trouble myself much about the matter. He had brought the stores he had procured in a couple of hampers, which I found on deck. They contained, as I afterwards discovered, not only provisions, but sundry bottles of whisky.

There being a fresh breeze, the little hooker ran swiftly along over the blue ocean; the Eddystone being soon left astern and the Lizard sighted. The skipper told me he intended to run through the passage between the Scilly Islands and the main.

“If the wind holds as it does now,” he said, “we’ll be in Cork harbour in a jiffy. Shure the little hooker would find her way there if we were all to turn in and go to sleep till she gets up to Passage.”

“As I’m not so confident of that same, captain, I must beg you to keep your wits about you till you put me ashore,” I observed.

He gave me a wink in reply, but said nothing.

During the day I walked the deck, going into the cabin only for meals. The skipper spent most of his time there, only putting up his head now and then to see how the wind was, and to give directions to the man at the helm. From the way the crew talked, I began to suspect that they had obtained some liquor from the shore, probably by the boat which brought the skipper off. Not being altogether satisfied with the state of things, I offered to keep watch. The skipper at once agreed to this, and suggested that I should keep the middle watch, while he kept the first.

Before I went below the wind veered round almost ahead. The night, I observed, was very dark; and as there was no moon in the sky, while a thick mist came rolling across the water, had I not supposed that the skipper was tolerably sober I should have remained on deck; but, feeling very sleepy, I went below, though thinking it prudent not to take off my clothes. I lay down in the berth just as I was. I could hear the skipper talking to the man at the helm, and it appeared to me that the vessel was moving faster through the water than before. Then I fell off to sleep.

How long I had slept I could not tell, when I was awakened by a loud crash. I sprang out of my berth, and instinctively rushed up the companion ladder. Just then I dimly saw a spar over me, and, clutching it, was the next moment carried along away from the deck of the vessel, which disappeared beneath my feet. I heard voices shouting, and cries apparently from the hooker. The night was so dark that I could scarcely see a foot above me. I scrambled up what I found must be the dolphin striker of a vessel, and thence on to her bowsprit.

“Here’s one of them,” I heard some one sing out, as I made my way on to the forecastle of what I supposed was a ship of war.

My first thought was for Larry.

“What has become of the hooker?” I exclaimed. Has any one else been saved?

The question was repeated by the officer of the watch, who now came hurrying forward.

No answer was returned.

“I fear the vessel must have gone down. We shouted to her to keep her luff, but no attention was paid, and she ran right under our bows,” said the officer.

“I’m not certain that she sank,” I answered. “She appeared to me to be capsizing, and I hope may be still afloat.”

“We will look for her, at all events,” said the officer; and he gave the necessary orders to bring the ship to the wind, and then to go about.

So dark was the night, however, that we might have passed close to a vessel without seeing her, though eager eyes were looking out on either side.

Having stood on a little way we again tacked, and for three hours kept beating backwards and forwards; but our search was in vain.

The vessel which had run down the hooker was, I found, H.M. brig of warOsprey, commander Hartland, on her passage home from the North American station.

“You have had a narrow escape of it,” observed the commander, who came on deck immediately on being informed of what had occurred. “I am truly glad that you have been saved, and wish that we had been able to pick up the crew. I have done all I can,” he said at length, “and I feel sure that if the hooker had remained afloat, we must have passed close to her.”

“I am afraid that you are right, sir,” I said, and I gave vent to a groan, if I did not actually burst into tears, as I thought of the cheery spirits of my faithful follower Larry being quenched in death.

Chapter Twenty Seven.A visit to France.“What is the matter?” asked the commander in a kind tone.“I had a man on board who had been with me ever since I went to sea,” I answered. “We had been through dangers of all sorts together, and he would have given his life to save mine.”“Very sorry, very sorry to hear it,” he said in a kind tone. “Come into my cabin; I’ll give you a shake-down, and you must try to go to sleep till the morning.”I gladly accepted his offer. The steward soon made up a bed for me; but after the dreadful event of the night, I found it more difficult than I had ever done before to close my eyes. I kept thinking of poor Larry, and considering if I could have done anything to save him. I blamed myself for turning in, when I saw the half-drunken condition of the skipper. His crew probably were in the same state, and had neglected to keep a look-out. I at last, however, went to sleep, and didn’t awake till the steward called me, to say that breakfast would be on the table presently.I jumped up, and, having had a wash, went on deck. The officers of the brig received me very kindly, and congratulated me on my escape. Presently a master’s mate came from below, and looked hard at me for a moment, and then, stretching out his hand, exclaimed, “Why, Paddy, my boy! is it yourself? I’m delighted to see you.”I recognised Sinnet, my old messmate on board theLiffy.“Why, I thought you were a lieutenant long ago,” he said, after we had had a little conversation. “For my part I have given up all hopes of promotion, unless we get another war with the French, or Dutch, or Spaniards; but there’s no use in sighing, so I take things as they come.”“That’s much as I must do, and as we all must if we would lead happy lives,” I answered.It cheered me up to meet Sinnet, and we had plenty of talk about old times. A strong north-westerly breeze was blowing, and the brig, under plain sail, was slashing along at a great rate up Channel. I hoped that she would put into Plymouth, but somewhat to my disappointment I found that she was bound for Portsmouth. I was now summoned by the captain’s steward to breakfast, and a very good one I enjoyed. When I told the commander where I was going when the hooker was run down, he said that he thought it very likely he should be sent round to the Irish coast, and that if I liked to remain on board he would land me at the first port we might touch at near my home. Next day we ran through the Needles’ passage, and brought up at Spithead, where theOspreyhad to wait for orders from the Admiralty. As we might sail at any moment, we were unable to go on shore. Though I was the commander’s guest, I several times dined with the midshipmen, or spent the evening in the berth.Our berth in theLiffywas not very large, but this was of much smaller dimensions, and had in it the assistant-surgeon, two master’s mates, the master’s assistant, all grown men, besides two clerks and four midshipmen. It was pretty close stowing, when all hands except those on watch were below, and the atmosphere, redolent of tobacco-smoke and rum, was occasionally somewhat oppressive. As the brig had been some time in commission, the greater part of the glass and crockery had disappeared. There were a few plates of different patterns, which were eked out with platters, saucers, and two or three wooden bowls. The bottoms of bottles, two or three tea-cups without handles, and the same number of pewter mugs, served for glasses. Three tallow dips stuck in bottles gave an uncertain light in the berth. Salt beef and pork with pease-pudding, cheese with weevilly biscuits, constituted our fare till we got to Spithead, when we obtained a supply of vegetables, fresh meat, and soft tack, as loaves are called at sea. The ship’s rum, with water of a yellowish hue, formed our chief beverage; but the fare being what all hands were accustomed to have, no one, except the assistant-surgeon, a Welshman, who had lately come to sea, grumbled at it.I wrote to my uncle to tell him I was safe; for, having said I was coming by the hooker, as she would not arrive, my family, I conjectured, might be alarmed at my non-appearance. I also mentioned the loss of poor Larry, and begged the major to break the news to his family. Their great grief, I knew, would be that they would not have the opportunity of waking him. I also wrote to Nettleship to tell him of my adventure, and enclosed a letter to the captain, begging that in consequence my leave might be prolonged.After we had been three days at anchor, the commander, who had been on shore, told me on his return that he had received orders to proceed at once to Cork, and that he would land me there. We had a quick passage, and as soon as we had dropped our anchor in the beautiful bay, Captain Hartland very kindly sent me up, in a boat under charge of Sinnet, to Cork.Having fortunately my money in my pocket when the hooker went down, I was able to hire a horse through the help of the landlord of the “Shamrock” hotel, and as I knew the road thoroughly I had no fear about finding my way. Having parted from my old messmate Sinnet, I started at dawn the next morning, intending to push on as fast as my steed would carry me. I had somewhat got over the loss of Larry, but it made me very sad when I had to answer the questions put to me about him by the people of the inns where we had before stopped.“And to think that him and his fiddle are gone to the bottom of the say! Och ahone! och ahone!” cried Biddy Casey, the fair daughter of the landlord of the inn, the scene of our encounter with the irate sow.It was late in the evening when I reached Ballinahone, and as I rode up the avenue I saw a tall figure pacing slowly in front of the house. It was my uncle. I threw myself from the saddle, and led my knocked-up steed towards him. He started as he turned and saw me.“What, Terence, is it you yourself?” he exclaimed, stretching out his hands. “You have been a long time coming, and I fancied your ship must have sailed, and that you could not obtain leave.”I told him that I had twice written, but he said that he had not received either of my letters.“You come to a house of mourning, my boy,” he continued, “though I doubt not you’ll have been prepared for what I have to tell you.”“My father!” I exclaimed.“Yes, he’s gone; and really from the condition into which he had fallen, it was a happy release, at all events to the rest of the family, who could not watch him without pain.”“And my mother?” I answered anxiously.“She is slowly recovering, and I think that your arrival will do her good,” he said. “Maurice and his young wife have come to live at the castle, and they get on very well with your sisters and their husbands. But what has become of Larry?” he asked, looking down the avenue, expecting to see him following me.When I told him, and had to mention how I had been so nearly lost, he was greatly grieved.“I am thankful we did not get your letter saying you were coming, or we should have been very anxious about you,” he said. “Now take your horse round to the stables, while I go in and prepare your mother for your arrival. It’s better not to give her a sudden surprise.”I did as my uncle told me. As soon as I had entered the courtyard I met Tim Daley, who gave a loud shout as he saw me, and at once, as I knew he would do, inquired for Larry.“Don’t be asking questions,” I said, fearing that there would be a wild hullaballoo set up in the kitchen, which might reach my mother’s ears before my uncle had time to tell her of my arrival.“But isn’t Larry come with your honour?” asked Tim.“Seamen can’t always get leave from their ships,” I answered, wishing to put him off. “I’ll tell you all about it by and by. And now just take that poor brute into the stable. Rub him down well, and give him some oats, for he’s scarcely a leg left to stand on.”“Ah! shure your honour knows how to ride a horse smartly,” said Tim, as he led off the animal, while I hurried round to the front door. One of my sisters let me in, and I had the opportunity of talking to her before I was summoned to my mother. She appeared sad and much broken, but the sight of me cheered her up, and as I talked on with her I was inclined to hope that she would recover her usual health and spirit. As soon as I could I mentioned my own narrow escape, and Larry’s loss, for I knew that, should my uncle tell any one, there would soon be an uproar of wild wailing in the kitchen, which might alarm her if she did not know the cause. I was right, for, as the major had thought it best to mention what had happened, the news soon spread throughout the house. As I went down-stairs a chorus of shrieks and cries reached my ears, expressive of the domestics’ grief at Larry’s loss. It was some time before I ventured down among them to give an account of what had happened; and as I narrated the circumstances, between each sentence there arose a chorus of cries and sighs.“Och ahone! och ahone! and we’ll never be after seeing Larry Harrigan again,” cried Biddy and Molly together.Similar exclamations burst from the lips of the other domestics, and I confess that my feelings were sufficiently sensitive to make me thankful to get away to the parlour. The supper was more cheerful than I expected it would be. Maurice and his young wife did the honours of the house with becoming grace. Of course I had plenty of accounts to give of my adventures in the Mediterranean. They were highly amused at my account of Lord Robert; and Fitzgerald exclaimed that he wished he could get him to Ballinahone, and they would soon knock his dignity out of him. As Maurice had sheathed his sword, Denis had determined to take his place as one of the defenders of his country. My uncle told me that he hoped soon to get a commission for him in the same regiment.“Maurice stood well among his brother officers, and that will give Denis a good footing as soon as he joins,” he observed to me. “He is a steady, sensible boy, and with his Irish dash and pluck he is sure to get on in the army. We have plenty of fellows with the latter qualities, but too few with the former, for they fancy if they’re tolerably brave they may be as harum-scarum, rollicking, and careless as they like. I wish that Denis had seen something of the world before he joins his regiment, for he’s as green as a bunch of shamrock. If it could be managed, I should like him to take a cruise with you, Terence, and to run up to Dublin for a few weeks, but funds are wanting for the purpose, though, as you observe, we have managed to get the house into better order than it has been of late years.”“I have some prize-money, though not much pay, due to me,” I answered, “and I shall be very glad to hand it over to Denis for the purpose you name.”“No! no! I could not allow that. It’s little enough you’ll get out of the estate, and you mustn’t deprive yourself of funds, my boy,” answered the major. “We will think of some other plan.”I observed the next day a great improvement in the general state of things about the house. The furniture had been repaired and furbished up. There were clean covers to the sofas and chairs in the drawing-room, and a new carpet in my mother’s chamber, while the servants had a less dingy and untidy look than formerly, showing that they had received their wages.I had spent a few pleasant days with my relations, when I received a letter from old Rough-and-Ready, peremptorily ordering me to return. I concluded that the letter I wrote from Portsmouth had not reached Nettleship, and consequently that my request for prolonged leave of absence had not been received.As there was no time if I wrote to receive an answer, which very probably would not reach its destination, my uncle advised me to set off at once. I must pass over my parting with my mother and other members of my family. My mother had greatly recovered, and I had no reason to be apprehensive about her health. The major announced his intention of accompanying me, with Denis, as far as Cork.“I wish that we could make the journey with you to Plymouth; but to say the truth, I find it prudent not to be longer away from Ballinahone than can be helped,” he observed. “My superintendence is wanted there as much as ever.”We accordingly the following morning set out, Denis in high spirits at having to make the journey, for hitherto his travels had not extended farther than Limerick. The major rode ahead, and he and I followed, talking together, though occasionally we rode up when we thought that our uncle wanted company. A journey in those days was seldom to be made without some adventures. None, however, occurred that I think worth mentioning. On our arrival at Cork, I found a vessel sailing direct for Bristol. My uncle advised me to go by her as the surest means of reaching Plymouth quickly.Wishing him and Denis, therefore, good-bye, I hurried on board, and two days afterwards was on my journey from the great mart of commerce to Plymouth.Part of the distance I performed by coach, part by post-chaise, the rest on horseback.I felt somewhat anxious lest my ship should have sailed, and I might have to kick my heels about Plymouth until she came back, or have to make another journey to get aboard her. Great was my satisfaction, therefore, when I saw her at anchor in Hamoaze. I at once went aboard. Old Rough-and-Ready received me with a somewhat frowning brow when I reported myself. On my explaining, however, what had happened, he said that he would make things all right with Lord Robert, who was expected on board every hour. As soon as his lordship appeared, we went out of harbour. We found that Parliament being prorogued, we were to take a short summer cruise. It was shorter than we expected.After knocking about for a couple of weeks, we put back again into the Sound, where we received a packet of letters, which had been waiting for us at the post office. I got one from my uncle, stating that all things were going on well at Ballinahone, and enclosing another in an unknown hand, and bearing a foreign post-mark. On opening it I found that it was from La Touche, reminding me of my promise to pay him a visit when peace was restored, and inviting me over to his château in the neighbourhood of Vernon. It appeared to me that I had but little chance of being able to accept his invitation. I at once wrote him a letter, stating that I was still on board, but that, should I be at liberty, I would without fail endeavour to go over and see him; that though we had been fighting with his nation, I had met so many brave men among them, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to become acquainted with La Belle France, and to see him again. I at once sent the letter on shore to be posted. The same mail brought despatches to the captain. Their tenor was soon announced. It was that the ship was to sail immediately for Portsmouth, where she had been fitted out, to be paid off.As his lordship was never addicted to doing anything in a hurry, he waited, before obeying the order he had received, till he could get a supply of fresh butter and eggs and other comestibles on board. We therefore did not sail till the next day. We had a fair breeze going out of the Sound, but the wind headed us when we got into the Channel, and we made a tack towards the French coast. The wind continued light and baffling, and we were three days before, having gone round by Saint Helen’s, we came to an anchor at Spithead. Here we had to wait until the wind again shifted, when we ran into Portsmouth harbour.I have already given a description of the scenes which occurred when I was last paid off, so I need not repeat it. Lord Robert made us a speech, promising to attend to the interests of all the officers who had served with him, and especially to bear in mind the strong claims of his first lieutenant to promotion. He took down all our addresses, saying we should hear from him before long.“I’ll buy a golden frame to put his letter in, if I receive one,” growled old Rough-and-Ready.“I doubt whether he’ll put pen to paper for my sake,” said Nettleship.Most of the rest of us made similar remarks. We were not wrong in our conjectures, and, as far as I could learn, his lordship forgot all about us and his promises from the moment he started for London; and we were cast adrift to shift for ourselves.Nettleship intended to go down to Plymouth, and wanted Tom Pim and me to accompany him; but Tom’s family were expecting him at home, and I hoped to get round direct from Portsmouth to Cork by sea.TheOsprey, which had returned to Portsmouth, was paid off at the time we were, and as there was no vessel sailing for Cork, I accepted an invitation from Sinnet to go over to Cowes, where his family were staying. We ran across in a wherry he had engaged.As we were entering the harbour, we saw a fine-looking lugger at anchor, and while passing I inquired where she was bound to.“Over to France, to the port of Grisnez or thereabouts,” answered a man who was walking the forecastle with his hands in his pockets.“When do you sail?” I asked.“May be to-morrow, may be next day,” was the answer.“I say, Sinnet, I’ve a great mind, if the lugger remains here long enough, to take a passage in her, and go and pay my promised visit to La Touche. I wish you could come too; I am sure he will be glad to see you.”“I wish I could, for I’m certain we should have good fun; but you see I have not been with my family for a long time, and they would look upon me as destitute of natural feeling if I went away so soon. If you, however, have a wish to go, don’t stand on ceremony. Should the lugger, however, remain long enough, I’ll take advantage of your proposal,” he said, as I accompanied him up to his house.I was introduced to his father and mother and sisters, who were all such nice people that I was half inclined to give up my idea. Sinnet, however, mentioned the matter to the old gentleman, who at once told me not to stand on ceremony.“You could not have a better opportunity of seeing France; and perhaps before long we shall be at loggerheads again, when no Englishman will be able to set foot in the country except as a prisoner; therefore go, and come back to us when you have got tired of frogs’ legs andsoup maigre.”In the evening I went down with Sinnet to the quay, where a man was pointed out to us as skipper of the lugger. We at once went up to him, and I told him that I wished to get across to France.“I have no objection to take you, young gentleman, though we do not generally like having king’s officers on board our craft,” he answered.“But I’m not on service now,” I observed, guessing the meaning of his allusion. “What sum do you expect for passage money?”“Five guineas,” he answered. “I do not care to take less.”“Five guineas you shall have, if you land me where I wish to go,” I said. “Now, when shall I be on board?”“To-morrow morning at six o’clock. The tide will serve to carry us out at the Needles; and I don’t intend to wait a moment longer.”“At six o’clock I will be on board, then; and, by the by, what is your name, captain?”“Jack Long, though some call me little Jack,” answered the skipper, with a laugh.“And your vessel, that there may be no mistake?”“TheSaucy Bet,” he said; “and now you know all you need know about her.”“Then, Captain Long, I’ll be aboard theSaucy Betat the hour you name,” I said, as I took Sinnet’s arm.We strolled back to his house, and a very pleasant evening I spent with my messmate’s family. We had music and singing. Two or three girls and some young men came in, and we got up a dance. Altogether, I began to regret that I had not arranged to remain longer.My old messmate turned out at an early hour to accompany me down to the quay. As soon as I got on board the lugger, the anchor was hove up, and we made sail. I found a roughish looking crew, several of them being Jerseymen or Frenchmen. We soon got a fresh breeze from the northward, when theSaucy Betwalked along at a great rate, with large square topsails set above her lower lugs. She had a small cabin aft, neatly fitted up, and a large hold, but now perfectly clear. She could mount eight guns, all of which were now below. Soon after we got outside the Needles, however, they were hoisted up and placed on their carriages.“What sort of a cargo do you generally carry, Captain Long?” I asked.“That depends on what we stow away in the hold,” he answered, with a knowing wink. “Silks, satins, and ribbons, sometimes; and at others tobacco and brandy, a few cases of gloves or lace, and such articles as English ladies are fond of, and are glad to get without paying duty.”“Then you acknowledge yourself to be a smuggler, captain?”“I intend to be as long as I can make an honest living by it,” he answered, laughing. “I’m not ashamed of it. It is fair play, you see. If I’m caught I lose my goods and vessel, and am sent to prison, or serve His Majesty on board a man-of-war. If I land my cargo, as I generally contrive to do, I make a good profit.”As he was thus open I argued the point, trying to show that the Government must have a revenue to pay their expenses, and that his proceedings were lawless.“That’s their business, not mine,” he answered, not in the least degree moved by my observations. “The Government could not think very ill of us,” he remarked; “for if they want information about what is going on in France, or have to send over anybody secretly, they are ready enough to apply to me, and pay well too. Why, in the war time, if it hadn’t been for us smugglers, they couldn’t have managed to send a messenger across Channel. Bless you! I’ve carried over a queer lot of characters now and then. But you must be getting hungry, young gentleman, and it’s time for dinner. Come below.”I found a plentiful repast, which, though somewhat roughly cooked, I did ample justice to. The skipper produced a bottle of claret and another of cognac, and pressed me to drink, but he himself, I observed, was very moderate in his potations.“If I did not keep a cool head on my shoulders, theSaucy Betwould soon get into trouble,” he remarked; “still, that need not stop you from making yourself happy if you like.”He seemed very much surprised when I told him that I had no fancy for making myself happy in that fashion.In the afternoon the wind fell, and we lay becalmed, floating down Channel with the ebb. The smugglers swore terribly at the delay, as they were in a hurry to get over to the French coast.In the evening I walked the deck some time with the skipper, who was full of anecdotes. In the war time he had commanded a privateer, which had been tolerably successful, but his vessel had been captured at last, and he had spent some months a prisoner in France. He had on that occasion picked up a fair knowledge of French, which much assisted him, he said, in his present vocation. He was always on good terms with the mounseers, he told me, though he amused himself sometimes at their expense.“Some of my chaps and I were ashore one night, not long ago, taking a glass at a wine shop near the harbour, when a frigate came in, and a beauty she was, no doubt about that.” He continued: “The Frenchmen began to praise her, and says one of them to me—“‘There, you haven’t got a craft like that in the whole of your navy.’“‘I don’t know what we’ve got,’ says I; ‘but if there comes a war we should precious soon have one, for we should have she.’“You should have seen the rage the Frenchmen were in when I said that, and heard how theysacrédand swore. But I calmed them down by reminding them that they had taken some of our frigates, and that it was only to be expected that we should take some of theirs in return.”The captain gave me a side-berth in the little cabin, occupied generally, I found, by one of the mates. It was somewhat close, but I was soon asleep, and slept soundly until daylight the next morning.By noon a breeze sprang up from the eastward, and under all sail we stood away to the southward. By nightfall we were well in with the French coast, but farther to the west than I expected.“The tide will soon make in shore, and we must beat back to the eastward,” observed the skipper. “You mustn’t hope, howsomdever, young gentleman, to get ashore till to-morrow morning.”This mattered little to me, as I had no great objection to spend a few hours more on board.During the night I awoke, and found the vessel perfectly motionless.“Can another calm have come on?” I thought.I was going off to sleep again, when I heard a footstep in the cabin, and, looking out of my bunk, by the light from the swinging lamp I saw the skipper examining some papers at the table.“Has the wind dropped again?” I inquired.“No, we are at anchor; we have been chased by achasse-marée, and so, to escape her, we slipped in here; and here we shall remain perhaps for some days, till the coast is clear,” he answered.“In that case, captain, I shall prefer going on shore, and making my way overland to my friend’s house. I shall find conveyances of some sort, I suppose?” I said.“As to that I can’t say. It isn’t much of a place, but you may get along in a country cart, or hire a nag.”As I had no objection to seeing something of the country, I did not complain of this, and as soon as it was daylight I turned out.Being anxious not to lose time, I got Captain Long to send me ashore with my valise. A small cabaret being open, I intended to take up my quarters there until I could obtain some means of conveyance to the Château La Touche. A cup of coffee, which was at once offered me, enabled me to wait until a more substantial breakfast was prepared.In the meantime I took a stroll through the village. It was a small place, and, as far as I could judge, primitive in the extreme. It was the first time I had been in France, yet, as I spoke the language pretty well, I felt myself perfectly at home. Indeed, the people I addressed took me for a Frenchman, and were extremely civil.On getting back to the inn, the landlady asked me if I had been to see the wonderful animal which had been landed some time before by a fisherman, who had found him, she said, on board a vessel, navigating her all by himself.“What sort of an animal?” I inquired.“Ah, monsieur, they say it is a bear. It certainly looks like one, for it has a bear’s head and claws, and a tail; but it does all sort of things that no other bear that I have heard of can do; and what is more strange, it can talk, though no one can understand what it says.”“I must go and have a look at this bear after breakfast,” I said.“Certainly monsieur would not leave our village without seeing so great a wonder,” she replied. “My boy Pierre can show you the way. Jacques Chacot, who is the fortunate possessor of the bear, lives not more than a quarter of a league away to the west. He charges half a franc to each person to whom be shows his wonder, and the people come from far and near. He talks of taking his bear to Paris to exhibit it, and if he does he will surely make a fortune.”Though I was somewhat incredulous as to whether the bear could really speak, and had also a doubt as to the way the woman said the animal had been found, I felt curious to see it; and as soon as I had breakfasted, conducted by Pierre, I set out for the cottage of Jacques Chacot. On the way the boy amused me by giving further accounts of the strange animal we were to see.We found a number of other people going in the same direction, for my landlady had given no exaggerated account of the curiosity which it had excited. Jacques Chacot evidently possessed the talent of a showman. He had enlarged the front of his cottage so as to form a sort of theatre, the inner part serving as a stage. We found him standing at the door with a couple of stout young fellows, his sons, ready to receive visitors, for he allowed no one to go in until he had obtained payment. A strong bar was run across in front of the stage, which Jacques Chacot explained was to prevent the spectators from approaching too close to the bear, who, he observed, was sometimes seized with sudden fits of ferocity, and might, he was afraid, do some injury. The room was already half full when Pierre and I entered, and a considerable number of people came in afterwards. They were all country people, decently dressed, who behaved with the usual politeness the French exhibit when not excited by any special cause.

“What is the matter?” asked the commander in a kind tone.

“I had a man on board who had been with me ever since I went to sea,” I answered. “We had been through dangers of all sorts together, and he would have given his life to save mine.”

“Very sorry, very sorry to hear it,” he said in a kind tone. “Come into my cabin; I’ll give you a shake-down, and you must try to go to sleep till the morning.”

I gladly accepted his offer. The steward soon made up a bed for me; but after the dreadful event of the night, I found it more difficult than I had ever done before to close my eyes. I kept thinking of poor Larry, and considering if I could have done anything to save him. I blamed myself for turning in, when I saw the half-drunken condition of the skipper. His crew probably were in the same state, and had neglected to keep a look-out. I at last, however, went to sleep, and didn’t awake till the steward called me, to say that breakfast would be on the table presently.

I jumped up, and, having had a wash, went on deck. The officers of the brig received me very kindly, and congratulated me on my escape. Presently a master’s mate came from below, and looked hard at me for a moment, and then, stretching out his hand, exclaimed, “Why, Paddy, my boy! is it yourself? I’m delighted to see you.”

I recognised Sinnet, my old messmate on board theLiffy.

“Why, I thought you were a lieutenant long ago,” he said, after we had had a little conversation. “For my part I have given up all hopes of promotion, unless we get another war with the French, or Dutch, or Spaniards; but there’s no use in sighing, so I take things as they come.”

“That’s much as I must do, and as we all must if we would lead happy lives,” I answered.

It cheered me up to meet Sinnet, and we had plenty of talk about old times. A strong north-westerly breeze was blowing, and the brig, under plain sail, was slashing along at a great rate up Channel. I hoped that she would put into Plymouth, but somewhat to my disappointment I found that she was bound for Portsmouth. I was now summoned by the captain’s steward to breakfast, and a very good one I enjoyed. When I told the commander where I was going when the hooker was run down, he said that he thought it very likely he should be sent round to the Irish coast, and that if I liked to remain on board he would land me at the first port we might touch at near my home. Next day we ran through the Needles’ passage, and brought up at Spithead, where theOspreyhad to wait for orders from the Admiralty. As we might sail at any moment, we were unable to go on shore. Though I was the commander’s guest, I several times dined with the midshipmen, or spent the evening in the berth.

Our berth in theLiffywas not very large, but this was of much smaller dimensions, and had in it the assistant-surgeon, two master’s mates, the master’s assistant, all grown men, besides two clerks and four midshipmen. It was pretty close stowing, when all hands except those on watch were below, and the atmosphere, redolent of tobacco-smoke and rum, was occasionally somewhat oppressive. As the brig had been some time in commission, the greater part of the glass and crockery had disappeared. There were a few plates of different patterns, which were eked out with platters, saucers, and two or three wooden bowls. The bottoms of bottles, two or three tea-cups without handles, and the same number of pewter mugs, served for glasses. Three tallow dips stuck in bottles gave an uncertain light in the berth. Salt beef and pork with pease-pudding, cheese with weevilly biscuits, constituted our fare till we got to Spithead, when we obtained a supply of vegetables, fresh meat, and soft tack, as loaves are called at sea. The ship’s rum, with water of a yellowish hue, formed our chief beverage; but the fare being what all hands were accustomed to have, no one, except the assistant-surgeon, a Welshman, who had lately come to sea, grumbled at it.

I wrote to my uncle to tell him I was safe; for, having said I was coming by the hooker, as she would not arrive, my family, I conjectured, might be alarmed at my non-appearance. I also mentioned the loss of poor Larry, and begged the major to break the news to his family. Their great grief, I knew, would be that they would not have the opportunity of waking him. I also wrote to Nettleship to tell him of my adventure, and enclosed a letter to the captain, begging that in consequence my leave might be prolonged.

After we had been three days at anchor, the commander, who had been on shore, told me on his return that he had received orders to proceed at once to Cork, and that he would land me there. We had a quick passage, and as soon as we had dropped our anchor in the beautiful bay, Captain Hartland very kindly sent me up, in a boat under charge of Sinnet, to Cork.

Having fortunately my money in my pocket when the hooker went down, I was able to hire a horse through the help of the landlord of the “Shamrock” hotel, and as I knew the road thoroughly I had no fear about finding my way. Having parted from my old messmate Sinnet, I started at dawn the next morning, intending to push on as fast as my steed would carry me. I had somewhat got over the loss of Larry, but it made me very sad when I had to answer the questions put to me about him by the people of the inns where we had before stopped.

“And to think that him and his fiddle are gone to the bottom of the say! Och ahone! och ahone!” cried Biddy Casey, the fair daughter of the landlord of the inn, the scene of our encounter with the irate sow.

It was late in the evening when I reached Ballinahone, and as I rode up the avenue I saw a tall figure pacing slowly in front of the house. It was my uncle. I threw myself from the saddle, and led my knocked-up steed towards him. He started as he turned and saw me.

“What, Terence, is it you yourself?” he exclaimed, stretching out his hands. “You have been a long time coming, and I fancied your ship must have sailed, and that you could not obtain leave.”

I told him that I had twice written, but he said that he had not received either of my letters.

“You come to a house of mourning, my boy,” he continued, “though I doubt not you’ll have been prepared for what I have to tell you.”

“My father!” I exclaimed.

“Yes, he’s gone; and really from the condition into which he had fallen, it was a happy release, at all events to the rest of the family, who could not watch him without pain.”

“And my mother?” I answered anxiously.

“She is slowly recovering, and I think that your arrival will do her good,” he said. “Maurice and his young wife have come to live at the castle, and they get on very well with your sisters and their husbands. But what has become of Larry?” he asked, looking down the avenue, expecting to see him following me.

When I told him, and had to mention how I had been so nearly lost, he was greatly grieved.

“I am thankful we did not get your letter saying you were coming, or we should have been very anxious about you,” he said. “Now take your horse round to the stables, while I go in and prepare your mother for your arrival. It’s better not to give her a sudden surprise.”

I did as my uncle told me. As soon as I had entered the courtyard I met Tim Daley, who gave a loud shout as he saw me, and at once, as I knew he would do, inquired for Larry.

“Don’t be asking questions,” I said, fearing that there would be a wild hullaballoo set up in the kitchen, which might reach my mother’s ears before my uncle had time to tell her of my arrival.

“But isn’t Larry come with your honour?” asked Tim.

“Seamen can’t always get leave from their ships,” I answered, wishing to put him off. “I’ll tell you all about it by and by. And now just take that poor brute into the stable. Rub him down well, and give him some oats, for he’s scarcely a leg left to stand on.”

“Ah! shure your honour knows how to ride a horse smartly,” said Tim, as he led off the animal, while I hurried round to the front door. One of my sisters let me in, and I had the opportunity of talking to her before I was summoned to my mother. She appeared sad and much broken, but the sight of me cheered her up, and as I talked on with her I was inclined to hope that she would recover her usual health and spirit. As soon as I could I mentioned my own narrow escape, and Larry’s loss, for I knew that, should my uncle tell any one, there would soon be an uproar of wild wailing in the kitchen, which might alarm her if she did not know the cause. I was right, for, as the major had thought it best to mention what had happened, the news soon spread throughout the house. As I went down-stairs a chorus of shrieks and cries reached my ears, expressive of the domestics’ grief at Larry’s loss. It was some time before I ventured down among them to give an account of what had happened; and as I narrated the circumstances, between each sentence there arose a chorus of cries and sighs.

“Och ahone! och ahone! and we’ll never be after seeing Larry Harrigan again,” cried Biddy and Molly together.

Similar exclamations burst from the lips of the other domestics, and I confess that my feelings were sufficiently sensitive to make me thankful to get away to the parlour. The supper was more cheerful than I expected it would be. Maurice and his young wife did the honours of the house with becoming grace. Of course I had plenty of accounts to give of my adventures in the Mediterranean. They were highly amused at my account of Lord Robert; and Fitzgerald exclaimed that he wished he could get him to Ballinahone, and they would soon knock his dignity out of him. As Maurice had sheathed his sword, Denis had determined to take his place as one of the defenders of his country. My uncle told me that he hoped soon to get a commission for him in the same regiment.

“Maurice stood well among his brother officers, and that will give Denis a good footing as soon as he joins,” he observed to me. “He is a steady, sensible boy, and with his Irish dash and pluck he is sure to get on in the army. We have plenty of fellows with the latter qualities, but too few with the former, for they fancy if they’re tolerably brave they may be as harum-scarum, rollicking, and careless as they like. I wish that Denis had seen something of the world before he joins his regiment, for he’s as green as a bunch of shamrock. If it could be managed, I should like him to take a cruise with you, Terence, and to run up to Dublin for a few weeks, but funds are wanting for the purpose, though, as you observe, we have managed to get the house into better order than it has been of late years.”

“I have some prize-money, though not much pay, due to me,” I answered, “and I shall be very glad to hand it over to Denis for the purpose you name.”

“No! no! I could not allow that. It’s little enough you’ll get out of the estate, and you mustn’t deprive yourself of funds, my boy,” answered the major. “We will think of some other plan.”

I observed the next day a great improvement in the general state of things about the house. The furniture had been repaired and furbished up. There were clean covers to the sofas and chairs in the drawing-room, and a new carpet in my mother’s chamber, while the servants had a less dingy and untidy look than formerly, showing that they had received their wages.

I had spent a few pleasant days with my relations, when I received a letter from old Rough-and-Ready, peremptorily ordering me to return. I concluded that the letter I wrote from Portsmouth had not reached Nettleship, and consequently that my request for prolonged leave of absence had not been received.

As there was no time if I wrote to receive an answer, which very probably would not reach its destination, my uncle advised me to set off at once. I must pass over my parting with my mother and other members of my family. My mother had greatly recovered, and I had no reason to be apprehensive about her health. The major announced his intention of accompanying me, with Denis, as far as Cork.

“I wish that we could make the journey with you to Plymouth; but to say the truth, I find it prudent not to be longer away from Ballinahone than can be helped,” he observed. “My superintendence is wanted there as much as ever.”

We accordingly the following morning set out, Denis in high spirits at having to make the journey, for hitherto his travels had not extended farther than Limerick. The major rode ahead, and he and I followed, talking together, though occasionally we rode up when we thought that our uncle wanted company. A journey in those days was seldom to be made without some adventures. None, however, occurred that I think worth mentioning. On our arrival at Cork, I found a vessel sailing direct for Bristol. My uncle advised me to go by her as the surest means of reaching Plymouth quickly.

Wishing him and Denis, therefore, good-bye, I hurried on board, and two days afterwards was on my journey from the great mart of commerce to Plymouth.

Part of the distance I performed by coach, part by post-chaise, the rest on horseback.

I felt somewhat anxious lest my ship should have sailed, and I might have to kick my heels about Plymouth until she came back, or have to make another journey to get aboard her. Great was my satisfaction, therefore, when I saw her at anchor in Hamoaze. I at once went aboard. Old Rough-and-Ready received me with a somewhat frowning brow when I reported myself. On my explaining, however, what had happened, he said that he would make things all right with Lord Robert, who was expected on board every hour. As soon as his lordship appeared, we went out of harbour. We found that Parliament being prorogued, we were to take a short summer cruise. It was shorter than we expected.

After knocking about for a couple of weeks, we put back again into the Sound, where we received a packet of letters, which had been waiting for us at the post office. I got one from my uncle, stating that all things were going on well at Ballinahone, and enclosing another in an unknown hand, and bearing a foreign post-mark. On opening it I found that it was from La Touche, reminding me of my promise to pay him a visit when peace was restored, and inviting me over to his château in the neighbourhood of Vernon. It appeared to me that I had but little chance of being able to accept his invitation. I at once wrote him a letter, stating that I was still on board, but that, should I be at liberty, I would without fail endeavour to go over and see him; that though we had been fighting with his nation, I had met so many brave men among them, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to become acquainted with La Belle France, and to see him again. I at once sent the letter on shore to be posted. The same mail brought despatches to the captain. Their tenor was soon announced. It was that the ship was to sail immediately for Portsmouth, where she had been fitted out, to be paid off.

As his lordship was never addicted to doing anything in a hurry, he waited, before obeying the order he had received, till he could get a supply of fresh butter and eggs and other comestibles on board. We therefore did not sail till the next day. We had a fair breeze going out of the Sound, but the wind headed us when we got into the Channel, and we made a tack towards the French coast. The wind continued light and baffling, and we were three days before, having gone round by Saint Helen’s, we came to an anchor at Spithead. Here we had to wait until the wind again shifted, when we ran into Portsmouth harbour.

I have already given a description of the scenes which occurred when I was last paid off, so I need not repeat it. Lord Robert made us a speech, promising to attend to the interests of all the officers who had served with him, and especially to bear in mind the strong claims of his first lieutenant to promotion. He took down all our addresses, saying we should hear from him before long.

“I’ll buy a golden frame to put his letter in, if I receive one,” growled old Rough-and-Ready.

“I doubt whether he’ll put pen to paper for my sake,” said Nettleship.

Most of the rest of us made similar remarks. We were not wrong in our conjectures, and, as far as I could learn, his lordship forgot all about us and his promises from the moment he started for London; and we were cast adrift to shift for ourselves.

Nettleship intended to go down to Plymouth, and wanted Tom Pim and me to accompany him; but Tom’s family were expecting him at home, and I hoped to get round direct from Portsmouth to Cork by sea.

TheOsprey, which had returned to Portsmouth, was paid off at the time we were, and as there was no vessel sailing for Cork, I accepted an invitation from Sinnet to go over to Cowes, where his family were staying. We ran across in a wherry he had engaged.

As we were entering the harbour, we saw a fine-looking lugger at anchor, and while passing I inquired where she was bound to.

“Over to France, to the port of Grisnez or thereabouts,” answered a man who was walking the forecastle with his hands in his pockets.

“When do you sail?” I asked.

“May be to-morrow, may be next day,” was the answer.

“I say, Sinnet, I’ve a great mind, if the lugger remains here long enough, to take a passage in her, and go and pay my promised visit to La Touche. I wish you could come too; I am sure he will be glad to see you.”

“I wish I could, for I’m certain we should have good fun; but you see I have not been with my family for a long time, and they would look upon me as destitute of natural feeling if I went away so soon. If you, however, have a wish to go, don’t stand on ceremony. Should the lugger, however, remain long enough, I’ll take advantage of your proposal,” he said, as I accompanied him up to his house.

I was introduced to his father and mother and sisters, who were all such nice people that I was half inclined to give up my idea. Sinnet, however, mentioned the matter to the old gentleman, who at once told me not to stand on ceremony.

“You could not have a better opportunity of seeing France; and perhaps before long we shall be at loggerheads again, when no Englishman will be able to set foot in the country except as a prisoner; therefore go, and come back to us when you have got tired of frogs’ legs andsoup maigre.”

In the evening I went down with Sinnet to the quay, where a man was pointed out to us as skipper of the lugger. We at once went up to him, and I told him that I wished to get across to France.

“I have no objection to take you, young gentleman, though we do not generally like having king’s officers on board our craft,” he answered.

“But I’m not on service now,” I observed, guessing the meaning of his allusion. “What sum do you expect for passage money?”

“Five guineas,” he answered. “I do not care to take less.”

“Five guineas you shall have, if you land me where I wish to go,” I said. “Now, when shall I be on board?”

“To-morrow morning at six o’clock. The tide will serve to carry us out at the Needles; and I don’t intend to wait a moment longer.”

“At six o’clock I will be on board, then; and, by the by, what is your name, captain?”

“Jack Long, though some call me little Jack,” answered the skipper, with a laugh.

“And your vessel, that there may be no mistake?”

“TheSaucy Bet,” he said; “and now you know all you need know about her.”

“Then, Captain Long, I’ll be aboard theSaucy Betat the hour you name,” I said, as I took Sinnet’s arm.

We strolled back to his house, and a very pleasant evening I spent with my messmate’s family. We had music and singing. Two or three girls and some young men came in, and we got up a dance. Altogether, I began to regret that I had not arranged to remain longer.

My old messmate turned out at an early hour to accompany me down to the quay. As soon as I got on board the lugger, the anchor was hove up, and we made sail. I found a roughish looking crew, several of them being Jerseymen or Frenchmen. We soon got a fresh breeze from the northward, when theSaucy Betwalked along at a great rate, with large square topsails set above her lower lugs. She had a small cabin aft, neatly fitted up, and a large hold, but now perfectly clear. She could mount eight guns, all of which were now below. Soon after we got outside the Needles, however, they were hoisted up and placed on their carriages.

“What sort of a cargo do you generally carry, Captain Long?” I asked.

“That depends on what we stow away in the hold,” he answered, with a knowing wink. “Silks, satins, and ribbons, sometimes; and at others tobacco and brandy, a few cases of gloves or lace, and such articles as English ladies are fond of, and are glad to get without paying duty.”

“Then you acknowledge yourself to be a smuggler, captain?”

“I intend to be as long as I can make an honest living by it,” he answered, laughing. “I’m not ashamed of it. It is fair play, you see. If I’m caught I lose my goods and vessel, and am sent to prison, or serve His Majesty on board a man-of-war. If I land my cargo, as I generally contrive to do, I make a good profit.”

As he was thus open I argued the point, trying to show that the Government must have a revenue to pay their expenses, and that his proceedings were lawless.

“That’s their business, not mine,” he answered, not in the least degree moved by my observations. “The Government could not think very ill of us,” he remarked; “for if they want information about what is going on in France, or have to send over anybody secretly, they are ready enough to apply to me, and pay well too. Why, in the war time, if it hadn’t been for us smugglers, they couldn’t have managed to send a messenger across Channel. Bless you! I’ve carried over a queer lot of characters now and then. But you must be getting hungry, young gentleman, and it’s time for dinner. Come below.”

I found a plentiful repast, which, though somewhat roughly cooked, I did ample justice to. The skipper produced a bottle of claret and another of cognac, and pressed me to drink, but he himself, I observed, was very moderate in his potations.

“If I did not keep a cool head on my shoulders, theSaucy Betwould soon get into trouble,” he remarked; “still, that need not stop you from making yourself happy if you like.”

He seemed very much surprised when I told him that I had no fancy for making myself happy in that fashion.

In the afternoon the wind fell, and we lay becalmed, floating down Channel with the ebb. The smugglers swore terribly at the delay, as they were in a hurry to get over to the French coast.

In the evening I walked the deck some time with the skipper, who was full of anecdotes. In the war time he had commanded a privateer, which had been tolerably successful, but his vessel had been captured at last, and he had spent some months a prisoner in France. He had on that occasion picked up a fair knowledge of French, which much assisted him, he said, in his present vocation. He was always on good terms with the mounseers, he told me, though he amused himself sometimes at their expense.

“Some of my chaps and I were ashore one night, not long ago, taking a glass at a wine shop near the harbour, when a frigate came in, and a beauty she was, no doubt about that.” He continued: “The Frenchmen began to praise her, and says one of them to me—

“‘There, you haven’t got a craft like that in the whole of your navy.’

“‘I don’t know what we’ve got,’ says I; ‘but if there comes a war we should precious soon have one, for we should have she.’

“You should have seen the rage the Frenchmen were in when I said that, and heard how theysacrédand swore. But I calmed them down by reminding them that they had taken some of our frigates, and that it was only to be expected that we should take some of theirs in return.”

The captain gave me a side-berth in the little cabin, occupied generally, I found, by one of the mates. It was somewhat close, but I was soon asleep, and slept soundly until daylight the next morning.

By noon a breeze sprang up from the eastward, and under all sail we stood away to the southward. By nightfall we were well in with the French coast, but farther to the west than I expected.

“The tide will soon make in shore, and we must beat back to the eastward,” observed the skipper. “You mustn’t hope, howsomdever, young gentleman, to get ashore till to-morrow morning.”

This mattered little to me, as I had no great objection to spend a few hours more on board.

During the night I awoke, and found the vessel perfectly motionless.

“Can another calm have come on?” I thought.

I was going off to sleep again, when I heard a footstep in the cabin, and, looking out of my bunk, by the light from the swinging lamp I saw the skipper examining some papers at the table.

“Has the wind dropped again?” I inquired.

“No, we are at anchor; we have been chased by achasse-marée, and so, to escape her, we slipped in here; and here we shall remain perhaps for some days, till the coast is clear,” he answered.

“In that case, captain, I shall prefer going on shore, and making my way overland to my friend’s house. I shall find conveyances of some sort, I suppose?” I said.

“As to that I can’t say. It isn’t much of a place, but you may get along in a country cart, or hire a nag.”

As I had no objection to seeing something of the country, I did not complain of this, and as soon as it was daylight I turned out.

Being anxious not to lose time, I got Captain Long to send me ashore with my valise. A small cabaret being open, I intended to take up my quarters there until I could obtain some means of conveyance to the Château La Touche. A cup of coffee, which was at once offered me, enabled me to wait until a more substantial breakfast was prepared.

In the meantime I took a stroll through the village. It was a small place, and, as far as I could judge, primitive in the extreme. It was the first time I had been in France, yet, as I spoke the language pretty well, I felt myself perfectly at home. Indeed, the people I addressed took me for a Frenchman, and were extremely civil.

On getting back to the inn, the landlady asked me if I had been to see the wonderful animal which had been landed some time before by a fisherman, who had found him, she said, on board a vessel, navigating her all by himself.

“What sort of an animal?” I inquired.

“Ah, monsieur, they say it is a bear. It certainly looks like one, for it has a bear’s head and claws, and a tail; but it does all sort of things that no other bear that I have heard of can do; and what is more strange, it can talk, though no one can understand what it says.”

“I must go and have a look at this bear after breakfast,” I said.

“Certainly monsieur would not leave our village without seeing so great a wonder,” she replied. “My boy Pierre can show you the way. Jacques Chacot, who is the fortunate possessor of the bear, lives not more than a quarter of a league away to the west. He charges half a franc to each person to whom be shows his wonder, and the people come from far and near. He talks of taking his bear to Paris to exhibit it, and if he does he will surely make a fortune.”

Though I was somewhat incredulous as to whether the bear could really speak, and had also a doubt as to the way the woman said the animal had been found, I felt curious to see it; and as soon as I had breakfasted, conducted by Pierre, I set out for the cottage of Jacques Chacot. On the way the boy amused me by giving further accounts of the strange animal we were to see.

We found a number of other people going in the same direction, for my landlady had given no exaggerated account of the curiosity which it had excited. Jacques Chacot evidently possessed the talent of a showman. He had enlarged the front of his cottage so as to form a sort of theatre, the inner part serving as a stage. We found him standing at the door with a couple of stout young fellows, his sons, ready to receive visitors, for he allowed no one to go in until he had obtained payment. A strong bar was run across in front of the stage, which Jacques Chacot explained was to prevent the spectators from approaching too close to the bear, who, he observed, was sometimes seized with sudden fits of ferocity, and might, he was afraid, do some injury. The room was already half full when Pierre and I entered, and a considerable number of people came in afterwards. They were all country people, decently dressed, who behaved with the usual politeness the French exhibit when not excited by any special cause.

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