at that identical moment a chain-shot from the ship abeam cut off Tom Jay’s head, who was nearest the starboard side, so cleanly—he happened to have a long neck—that it was jerked on to the body of Bill Cox, who, very naturally, putting up his hands to feel what had become, of his own head, kept it there so tightly that it stuck—positively stuck; and, the surgeon afterwards plastering it thickly round, it grew as firmly as if it had always belonged to the body. The curious thing was, that the man did not afterwards know what to call himself; when he intended to do one thing he was constantly doing another. There was Bill Cox’s body, d’ye see, and Tom Jay’s head. Bill Cox was rather the shorter of the two, and had had a very ugly mug of his own; while Tom Jay was a good-looking chap. Consequently, Bill used sometimes to blush when he heard his good looks spoken of, and sometimes to get angry, thinking people were making fun of him. At first, Bill never knew who was hailed, and used to sing out, ‘Which of us do you want?’ However, it was agreed that he was and should be Bill Cox; because the head belonged to the body by right of capture; for if Bill’s arms hadn’t sprung up and caught it, the head would have gone overboard, and been no use to nobody. So the matter was settled, as far as the public was concerned. D was put against Tom Jay’s name, and his disconsolate widow was written to, and told she might marry some one else as soon as she liked. But Bill wasn’t at all comfortable about himself. He was fond of fat bacon, which Tom Jay could never abide; and when Bill put it into his new mouth, why, you see, the mouth that was Tom’s spit it out again, and wouldn’t let it, by no manner of means, go down his throat. Then Tom was fond of a chaw, and seldom had had a quid out of his cheeks. Bill, for some reason, didn’t like baccy, and though his mouth kept asking for it, nothing would ever tempt his hands to put a quid inside. ‘I’m very miserable, that I be,’ groaned poor Bill; ‘I sometimes almost wishes I hadn’t caught Tom’s head—that I do.’

“You see, Mr Merry, people seldom know when they are well off, and that I used to tell him. More came of it when Bill got back home. When poor Tom Jay’s widow caught sight of him there was a terrible to do, seeing she was already married to another man; but I’ll tell you all about that by and by. There’s the captain about to speak.”

The captain’s speech was very brief: “Clear ship for action,” he exclaimed, as he placed himself on one of the after guns; “and now, lads, let me see what you are made of.”

I had been about to ask the boatswain how he got clear of the two line-of-battle ships, when this interruption occurred. Toby Bluff had been standing at a respectful distance, taking it all in with open mouth and astonishment. Each man went to his station—bulkheads were knocked away—the fires put out—the magazine opened—powder and shot were carried on deck—the guns were cast loose, and every preparation was made in a wonderfully short space of time. As I passed along the main-deck, I found Toby Bluff sitting on his tub, the picture of a regular powder-monkey—fat, sturdy, and unconcerned. He had become on very familiar terms with the other boys, and had fought his way into a satisfactory state of equality. He and those near him were firing off jokes at each other at a rapid rate, the others trying to frighten him, and he in no way inclined to take alarm.

“Never you mind,” he answered to a remark made by one of his companions; “if some chaps have their heads blown off, others gets new ones clapped on again! Ha, ha, ha! That’s more than some of you ever see’d done.”

I was glad to see that Toby was in such good heart, and would not disgrace our county. When I reached the upper deck, I found our bunting going up and down. We were signalising with the stranger, which, after all, turned out to be no enemy, but his Majesty’s thirty-six gun frigate Uranius. There was a general groan of disappointment when the order was given to secure the guns and close the magazine. I believe that, at that moment, most of the people, so worked up were they for fighting, would rather have had a turn to with their friend than have been baulked altogether. We found, however, that we should soon have a good opportunity of gratifying our pugnacious propensities. Admiral Cornwallis was at that time the commander-in-chief of the Channel fleet. He had directed Captain Collyer to look out for the Uranius and another frigate, the Emerald, and to proceed off Point Saint Matthieu, to watch the French and Spanish fleets then lying in Brest harbour. After cruising for a couple of days, we fell in with the other frigate, and thus all together proceeded to our destination. We soon reached it. On standing in towards the land, we very clearly made out the enemy’s fleet at anchor in Brest harbour; but few, if any, of the ships had their sails bent, and even if they had come out after us we could very easily have escaped.

“All hands shorten sail, and bring ship to an anchor,” was the order given, and all three frigates brought up just as coolly as if we had been at Spithead.

“I wonder what they think of us?” I observed to the boatswain, as one day I was examining the enemy through my glass.

“Think of us!” he exclaimed. “That we are as impudent as sparrows, and that they would willingly wring our necks and eat us if they could. But it is nothing to what I have seen done in the way of daring. I once belonged to a frigate, commanded by Captain Longbow, and, as he would tell you, if you were to ask him, we one night sailed right into the middle of a Spanish fleet—ran alongside one of their ships, boarded and carried her, and took her out free without the Spanish admiral discovering what we had been about. There’s no end to the wonderful things I have seen done, or, I may say, without conceit, have done, Mr Merry. But I rather suspect that we shall have to lose sight of the Dons and Monsieurs for a few days. There’s bad weather coming on, and we shall have to stand out to sea; but, never mind, they’ll not make their escape with a gale in their teeth.”

Mr Johnson prognosticated rightly. Before many hours it was blowing great guns and small-arms, and the three frigates were endeavouring, under all the sail they could carry, to obtain a good offing from the land. We tumbled about and pitched into the seas in a way which prevented me from, as usual, pitching into my dinner. One thing was satisfactory; the gale blockaded the enemy as effectually as we could have done. They were not inclined to come out and face either our guns or the fury of the wind. I cannot say, however, that just at that time anything brought much consolation to me. I had only one very strong wish; it was, to be thrown overboard—not that I had the slightest intention of jumping into the sea of my own accord. I was too far gone for any such energetic proceeding; and had anybody else taken me up for the purpose, I have no doubt that I should have struggled and kicked myself into perfect health again. I had coiled myself away on the top of my chest, on the lower-deck, in a dark recess, where I thought no one would see me; and there I hoped to remain all alone in my misery, till the ship went down, or blew up, or something else dreadful happened, for as to my ever getting well again that I felt was physically impossible. I had lain thus for some time, believing myself to be the most miserable small piece of humanity in existence, when, the frigate appearing to be pitching and rolling more furiously than ever, I heard a gruff voice exclaim—

“What, youngster! are you going to let the ship go down, and you not try to save her? On deck with you; be smart, now.”

I felt a colt applied to a part of my body which, in the position I lay, offered a tempting mark. The voice was that of old Perigal; his sharp eyes had found me out. I sprang up and rushed on deck with an involuntary yell of pain, to find