Chapter One.

Aboard a gunboat.

“Well, Mr Burnett, what is it?”

“Beg pardon, sir.”

“Now, my good boy, have I not told you always to speak out in a sharp, business-like way? How in the world do you expect to get on in your profession and become a smart officer, one who can give orders promptly to his men, if you begin in that stammering, hesitating style? Here, I’m busy; what do you want?”

“I beg pardon, sir, I—”

“Will—you—speak—out!”

“Yes, sir; Mr Storks is going off to-night with an armed boat’s crew—”

“Thank you, Mr Burnett, I am much obliged; but allow me to tell you that your news is very stale, for I was perfectly aware of that fact, and gave the orders to Mr Storks myself.”

“Yes, sir; of course, sir; but—”

“My good boy, what do you want?”

“To go with them, sir.”

“Oh! Then why didn’t you say so at first?”

“I didn’t know how you’d take it, sir.”

“Then you know now: very badly. No; the boat’s going on important business, and I don’t want her packed full of useless boys. What good do you expect you could do there?”

“Learn my profession, sir.”

“Oh! Ah! H’m! Well—that’s smart. Yes, I like that, Mr Burnett, much better. Well, I don’t know what to say. There’s no danger. Perhaps you will be away all the night and get no sleep.”

“Shouldn’t mind that, sir. Mr Storks said that he wouldn’t mind.”

“Doesn’t matter whether Mr Storks minds or not. Well—yes; you may go. There, there, no thanks; and—er—and—er—don’t take any notice, Mr Burnett; I am a little irritable this evening—maddening toothache, and that sort of thing. Don’t get into mischief. That’ll do.”

Commander Glossop, R.N., generally known as Captain of H.M. Gunboat Tonans, on special duty from the Channel Squadron, went below to his cabin, and Fitzgerald Burnett—Fitz for short—midshipman, seemed suddenly to have grown an inch taller, and comparatively stouter, as he seemed to swell out with satisfaction, while his keen grey eyes literally sparkled as he looked all a boy.

“Thought he was going to snap my head off,” he mattered, as he began to walk up and down, noticing sundry little preparations that were in progress in connection with one of the quarter-boats, in which, as she swung from the davits, a couple of the smart, barefooted sailors, whose toes looked very pink in the chill air, were overhauling and re-arranging oars, and the little mast, yard and sail, none of which needed touching, for everything was already in naval apple-pie order.

Fitz Burnett ended his walk by stopping and looking on.

“Going along with us, sir?” said one of the sailors.

“Yes,” said the lad shortly, and sharply enough to have satisfied his superior if he had overheard.

“That’s right, sir,” said the man, so earnestly that the boy looked pleased.

“Know where we are going, sir?” the other man ventured to ask.

“Is it likely?” was the reply; “and if I did know do you suppose that I would tell you?”

“No, sir, of course not. But it’s going to be something desperate, sir, because we have got to take all our tools.”

“Ah, you’ll see soon enough,” said the boy, and full of the importance of being one in some expedition that was to break the monotony of the everyday routine, as well as to avoid further questioning, and any approach to familiarity on the part of the men, Fitz continued his walk, to come in contact directly after with another superior officer in the shape of the lieutenant.

“Hullo, Mr Burnett! So you are to go with us to-night, I hear.”

“Yes, sir,” cried the boy eagerly. “Would you mind telling me what we are going to do?”

“Then you don’t know?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why did you ask the captain to let you go?”

“I wanted to be there, sir. Armed boat’s crew going off! It sounded so exciting.”

“I don’t think that you will find much excitement, Mr Burnett; but wait and see. If you want more information I must refer you to the captain.”

This last was accompanied by a nod and a good-humoured smile, as the officer moved away to look at the boat, but turned his head to add—

“Better put on a warm jacket; I dare say we shall have a cold night’s work.”

“I don’t care,” said the boy to himself. “Anything for a change. I do get so tired of this humdrum steaming here and steaming there, and going into port to fill up the coal-bunkers. Being at sea isn’t half so jolly as I used to think it was, and it is so cold. Wish we could get orders to sail to one of those beautiful countries in the East Indies, or to South America—anywhere away from these fogs and rains. Why, we haven’t seen the sun for a week.”

He went forward, to rest his arms on the bulwark and look out to sea. The sight was not tempting. The mouth of the Mersey is not attractive on a misty day, and the nearest land aft showed like a low-down dirty cloud. Away on the horizon there was a long thick trail of smoke being left behind by some outward-bound steamer, and running his eyes along the horizon he caught sight of another being emitted from one of two huge funnels which were all that was visible of some great Atlantic steamer making for the busy port.

Nearer in there were two more vessels, one that he made out to be a brig, and that was all.

“Ugh!” ejaculated the boy. “I wish—I wish—What’s the use of wishing? One never gets what one wants. Whatever are we going to do to-night? It must mean smuggling. Well, there will be something in that. Going aboard some small boat and looking at the skipper’s papers, and if they are not right putting somebody on board and bringing her into port. But there won’t be any excitement like one reads about in books. It’s a precious dull life coming to sea.”

Fitz Burnett sighed and waited, for the evening was closing in fast, and then he began to brighten in the expectation of the something fresh that was to take place that night. But knowing that it might be hours before they started, he waited—and waited—and waited.

There is an old French proverb which says, Tout vient à point à qui sait attendre, and this may be roughly interpreted, “Everything comes to the man who waits.” Let’s suppose that it comes to the boy.

Chapter Two.

Bravo, Boy!

The dim evening gave place to a dark night. The Tonans had for some two or three hours been stealing along very slowly not far from land, and that something important was on the way was evident from the captain’s movements, and the sharp look-out that was being kept up, and still more so from the fact that no lights were shown.

The gunboat’s cutter had been swung out ready for lowering down at a moment’s notice, the armed crew stood waiting, and one man was in the stern-sheets whose duty it was to look after the lantern, which was kept carefully shaded.

Fitz, who was the readiest of the ready, had long before noted with intense interest the fact that they showed no lights, and his interest increased when the lieutenant became so far communicative that he stood gazing out through the darkness side by side with his junior, and said softly—

“I am afraid we shall miss her, my lad. She’ll steal by us in the darkness, and it will all prove to be labour in vain.”

Fitz waited to hear more, but no more came, for the lieutenant moved off to join the captain.

“I wish he wouldn’t be so jolly mysterious,” said the