However, our best plan now was to get back to the frigate as soon as might be, so Lanyard, who had purposely kept in the background, now gave the word to shove off, and in a minute we were all on the Gazelle's quarterdeck; poor Donovan having been hoisted up, lashed into an accommodation chair. He was instantly taken care of, and, in our excellent surgeon's hands, I am glad to say that he recovered, and lived to be an ornament to the service, and a credit to all connected with him for many a long day afterwards.

The first thing little Binnacle did was to explain to Sir Oliver that he had been ill for three days with brain fever, having had a stroke of the sun; but aware of the heavy responsibility of taking forcibly the command of a vessel from one's superior officer, he was allowed to have it all his own way until the Gazelle hove in sight.

"Pray, Mr Binnacle," said the commodore, "have you brought me the letters and the English newspapers?"

"Yes, Sir Oliver; here they are, sir; and here is a memorandum of several vessels expected on this part of the coast that we got from the Cerberus, sir."

"Oh, let me see."

After a long pause, the commodore again spoke.

"Why, Mr Binnacle, I have no tidings of the vessels you speak of; but I suppose we must stand in for the point indicated, and take our chance of falling in with them. But where got you all these men? Did the Cerberus man you?"

"No, sir, she did not. Ten of the men were landed at Cape Coast, out of the Tobin, Liverpool trader. They are no great things, sir, certainly; they had been mutinous, so the merchantman who unshipped them chose to make the run home with five free negroes instead. But if they be bad, there is not much of them, for they are the smallest men I ever saw."

The chap who spoke—little Binnacle, viz.—was not quite a giant himself. He was a dapper little bluejacket, about five feet two. His boat's, or rather his canoe's crew, were all very little men, but still evidently full-grown, and not boys. Every thing about the craft he had come from was diminutive, except her late commander. The midshipman was small—the men were all pigmies. The vessel herself could not have carried one of the pyramids of Egypt. The very bandy-legged cur that yelped and scampered along her deck was a small cock-tailed affair that a large Newfoundland canis might easily have swallowed for his breakfast.

After Binnacle had made his report to Sir Oliver, he, with an arch smile, handed me the following letter, open, which I have preserved to this hour for the satisfaction of the curious. Many a time have I since laughed and almost cried over this production of poor Donovan's heated brain:—

"MY DEAR BRAIL,—When you receive this, I shall be at rest far down amongst the tangleweed and coral branches at the bottom of the deep green sea, another sacrifice to the insatiable demon of this evil climate—another melancholy addition to the long list of braver and better men who have gone before me. Heaven knows, and I know, and lament with much bitterness therefor, that I am ill prepared to die, but I trust to the mercy of the Almighty for pardon and forgiveness.

"It is now a week since I was struck by a flash of lightning at noonday, when there was not a speck of cloud in the blue sky, that glanced like a fiery dart right down from the fierce sun, and not having my red woollen nightcap on, that I purchased three years ago from old Jabos of Belfast, the Jew who kept a stall near the quay, it pierced through the skull just in the centre of the bald spot, and set my brain a-boiling and poppling ever since, making a noise for all the world like a buzzing bee-hive. I therefore intend to depart this life at three bells in the middle watch this very night, wind and weather permitting. Alas, alas! who shall tell this to my dear old mother, Widow Donovan, who lives at No. 1050, in Sackville Street, Dublin, the widest thoroughfare in Europe?—or to poor Cathleen O'Haggarty? You know Cathleen, Benjie; but you must never know that she has a glass eye—Ah, yes, poor thing, she had only one eye, but that was a beauty; the other was a quaker;[2] but then she had five thousand good sterling pounds, all in old Peter Macshane's bank at the back of the Exchange; and so her one eye was a blessing to me; for where is the girl with two eyes, and five thousand pounds, all lodged in Peter Macshane's bank at the back of the Exchange, who would have looked at Dennis Donovan, a friendless, penniless lieutenant in the Royal Navy, and son of Widow Donovan, who lives at 1050, Sackville Street, Dublin, the widest thoroughfare in Europe?—Ah, how Cathleen will pipe her real eye—I wonder if she will weep with the false one—I am sure my story might bring tears from a stone, far more a piece of glass—Oh, when she hears I am gone, she will be after breaking her tender little heart—Oh, murder for the notion of it—that's the thought that I can't bear—that is the blow that kills Ned! The last words of Dennis Donovan, who has nothing on earth to brag of beside a mighty pretty person and a brave soul—that's a good one. Adieu, adieu. God bless the King and the Royal Family entirely.

"DENNIS DONOVAN,

"Lieutenant, R.N., and son of Widow Donovan,
who lives at 1050, Sackville Street, Dublin,
the widest thoroughfare in Europe."

[2] A sham wooden gun.

To return.

"And pray," said the commodore, "what captures may you have made in this redoubtable man-of-war of yours—in his Britannic Majesty's felucca, Midge?"

"Why, none, sir," said wee Middy, blushing; "but I hope you will soon put us in the way of having a brush, sir."

"We shall see, we shall see," said the good-hearted old sailor; "but come and take a glass of wine, Mr Binnacle, and after you have told Mr Lanyard all about the Midge, what she has, and wants, &c., get on board again, and keep near us for the evening.—I say, Mr Steelpen," to his clerk, who was lounging about, "Come to the cabin, now, will you, and draw out Mr Lanyard's instructions, as Mr Garboard is still confined to his cot."

This was the second lieutenant, who had been ill for a week with fever.

The moment I knew Lanyard was going in the Midge, I determined to accompany him if possible, so I asked the commodore's leave—hinting, that my knowledge of the rivers might be of use. He laughed.

"Pilot, indeed—mind you don't evaporate in one of your pilotings, and then what shall I say to your friends, Master Benjamin?"

I pressed my suit.

"Why, my good boy, you had better not—take my word for it, if you carry on in this way, you will either get your head broken, or be caught by one of these infernal marsh fevers, which will be worse."

"No fear, Sir Oliver, I am a seasoned cask—do give me leave—I shall be back in a week."

"Well, well, as you please, my young master."

And it was at once so fixed.

Lanyard heard the order given, and instantly set about getting his kit arranged for his departure, although he seemed to think it would have been more pleasing in his excellent captain had he appeared to have consulted him a little on the subject; but to hear was to obey, and Dick was quite ready to move by the time he was sent for to receive his orders, when I adjourned to the cabin also, to say good by. Sir Oliver was sitting at his wine; and so soon as the steward had left us to ourselves, the knight rang the bell, the cord of which, ending in a handsome brass handle, hung within a foot of his head.

"Potter, send the first lieutenant