has my nephew injured you?"

"Lord Robert can inform you," said Philip.

"I perceive," said Sir Henry, "there has been some misunderstanding between you and my nephew, before you came on board the Diomede; but this is no excuse for your uniformly rebellious conduct. Had you done your duty as a British sailor, you would have met with encouragement and mild treatment. My nephew, dear as he is to me, could not have influenced me to commit an act of injustice against any individual of my ship's company. Go, and get your hurts examined; and let me have reason to praise your future conduct."

Philip bowed to his commander with gratitude and respect, and retired.

It is certain that "misfortunes never come alone." Scarcely had the convoy re-assembled, and the Diomede repaired some of the injuries she had sustained in the action, when a furious gale sprang up, and threatened the most mischievous consequences to the ship, in her shattered condition.

Towards midnight, the ship sprang so much water, that all hands were obliged to spell the pumps. About two in the morning, the wind lulled, and they flattered themselves that the gale was breaking. Soon after, there was much thunder and lightning, with rain; when it began to blow strong in gusts of wind, which obliged them to haul up the main-sail, the ship being then under bare poles. This was scarcely done, when a gust of wind, exceeding everything of the kind they had ever any conception of, laid the ship on her beam-ends. The water forsook the hold and appeared between the decks, so as to fill the men's hammocks to leeward; the ship lay motionless, and to all appearance irrecoverably overset. The water increasing fast, the captain gave directions to cut away the main and mizen masts,[1] hoping, when the ship righted, to wear her. The mizen-mast went first, without the smallest effect on the ship. The main-mast followed; and they had the mortification to see the foremast and bow-sprit follow also. The ship, upon this, immediately righted, but with great violence; and the motion was so quick, that it was difficult for the people to work the pumps.

Every moveable was destroyed, either by the shot thrown loose from the lockers, or from the wreck of the deck. The masts had not been over the side ten minutes, before the tiller broke short in the rudder-head; and before the checks could be placed, the rudder itself was gone. Thus they were as much disastered as possible, lying at the mercy of the wind. These circumstances appeared sufficiently alarming; but upon opening the after-hold, to get up some rum for the people, they found their condition much more so in reality.

It will be necessary to mention, that the ship's hold was enclosed by a bulk-head at the after-part of the well.[2] Here were all the dry provisions, and the ship's rum, stowed upon ten chaldrons of coal, which, unfortunately, had been started in this part of the ship, and by them the pumps were continually choked. At this time it was observed that the water had not a passage to the well; all the rum (twenty-six puncheons), all the provisions in casks, were stove; having floated with violence from side to side, until there was not a whole cask remaining: even the staves, that were found upon clearing the hold, were most of them broken in two or three pieces. In the fore-hold they had the prospect of perishing. Should the ship swim, they had no water but what remained in the ground tier; and over this all the wet provisions in barrels were floating, with so much motion, that no man could go into the hold without the risk of his life. There was nothing left, but to try baling with buckets at the fore-hatchway and fish-room; and twelve large canvas buckets were immediately employed in each. On opening the fish-room, they were so fortunate as to discover that two puncheons of rum had escaped. They were immediately got up, and served out in drams; and had it not been for this relief, and some lime-juice, the people would have dropped.

They soon found their account in baling: a spare pump had been put down the fore-hatchway, and a pump shifted to the fish-room; but the motion of the ship had washed the coals so small, that they had reached every part of the ship, and these pumps were soon choked. However, the water by noon had considerably diminished by working the buckets; but there appeared no prospect of saving the ship, if the gale continued. The labour was too great to hold out without water, yet the people worked without a murmur, and, indeed, with cheerfulness. But their sufferings for want of water were very great, and many of them could not be restrained from drinking salt water. They fired many guns of distress, in hopes some of the merchant-ships might approach and give them some supply; but on the beginning of the storm they had run before the wind, and made some port on the coast of Brazil,—an example which the Diomede would have been glad to follow before the hurricane began, but her crippled state from the engagement rendered this impossible.

Towards morning, some of the most resolute of the seamen, rendered desperate by thirst, went down into the hold, and found a whole water-cask, which they contrived to heave up, and it afforded a seasonable relief.

All the officers and boys, who were not of the profession of seamen, had been employed that night in thrumming a sail, which was passed under the ship's bottom with good effect. The spars were raised for the foremast; the weather looked promising, and they had the prospect of a fine day;—it proved so; and they were determined to make use of it, with every possible exertion. The captain divided the ship's company, with the officers attending them, into parties, to raise the jury foremast, to heave overboard the lower deck guns,[3] to clear the wrecks of the fore and after holds, to prepare a machine for steering the ship, and to work the pumps. By night, as the leak was stopped, the after-hold was quite clear, ten chaldrons of coals having been baled out since the commencement of the gale.

The standards of the cockpit, an immense quantity of staves and wood, and part of the lining of the ship, were thrown overboard, that, if the water should appear again in the hold, they might have no impediment in baling.

The Diomede, in this condition, exhibited a scene seldom witnessed,—a line-of-battle ship without masts or rudder, a mere shell in the midst of the ocean. The casks of all sorts, floating from side to side, were stove, and the magazines and store-rooms of every kind washed down.

By nightfall the foremast was secured, and the machine for steering fixed; so that, if the moderate weather continued, they were in hopes of steering the ship, the following day, for the coast of Brazil—the violence of the wind having driven them far out of their course.

During this time of peril and hardship, Sir Henry Stanley could not help observing with satisfaction the altered conduct of young Harley, who was so active, enterprising, and courageous, that no difficulty could overcome him, and no hardship make him complain. He seemed to think the benign looks of Sir Henry Stanley, ever bent with peculiar complacency on those who performed their duties with manly firmness, were a reward for the most painful exertions. All the officers, indeed, noticed the altered conduct of the young mutineer: no traces remained of his former rebellion, except that of his returning the haughty glances of Lord Robert Summers with equal fierceness, when they chanced to meet