cover some of the lost ground," said he, "my gratitude to him would last as long as life, Captain Cuffe." "Here is an opening then, Clinch. Nelson attaches as much importance to our catching this lugger as he ever did to falling in with a fleet. The officer who is serviceable on this occasion may be sure of being remembered, and I will give you every chance in my power. Go, dress yourself in your best; make yourself look as you know you can; then be ready for boat-service. I have some duty for you now, which will be but the beginning of good luck, if you only remain true to your mother, to Jane, and to yourself." A new life was infused into Clinch. For years he had been overlooked; apparently forgotten, except when thorough seamanship was required; and even his experiment of getting transferred to a vessel commanded by an old messmate had seemingly failed. Here was a change, however, and a ray, brighter than common, shone athwart the darkness of his future. Even Cuffe was struck with the cheerfulness of his countenance, and the alacrity of the master's-mate's movements, and he reproached himself with having so long been indifferent to the best interests of one who certainly had some claims on his friendship. Still, there was nothing unusual in the present relations between these old messmates. Favoured by family and friends, Cuffe had never been permitted to fall into despondency, and had pursued his career successfully and with spirit; while the other, unsupported, and failing of any immediate opportunity for getting a-head, had fallen into evil ways, and had become, by slow degrees, the man he was. Such instances as the latter are of not unfrequent occurrence even in a marine in which promotion is as regular as in the American service, though it is rare indeed that a man recovers his lost ground, when placed in circumstances so trying. In half an hour Clinch was ready, dressed in his best. The gentlemen of the quarter-deck saw all these preparations with surprise; for, of late, the master's-mate had seldom been seen in that part of the ship at all. But, in a man-of-war, discipline is a matter of faith, and no one presumed to ask questions. Clinch was closeted with the Captain for a few minutes, received his orders, and went over the ship's side with a cheerful countenance, actually entering the Captain's gig, the fastest rowing boat of the ship. As soon as seated, he shoved off, and held his way towards the point of Campanella, then distant about three leagues. No one knew whither he was bound, though all believed it was on duty which related to the lugger, and duty which required a seaman's judgment. As for Cuffe, his manner, which had begun to be uneasy and wandering, became more composed when he saw his old messmate fairly off, and that too at a rate which would carry him even to Naples in the course of a few hours, should his voyage happen to be so long. CHAPTER XXI. His honour 's link'd Unto his life; he that will seek the one TATHAM. It was now certain that Le Feu-Follet was not in the Bay of Salerno. By means of the lofty spars of the ship, and the aid of glasses, the whole coast had been effectually surveyed, and no signs of such a craft were visible. Even Lyon had given it up, had wore round, and was standing along the land again, towards Campanella, a disappointed man. As Cuffe expected the next wind from the westward, he continued on to the northward, however, intending to go off Amalfi, and question any fisherman he might fall in with. Leaving the ship slowly pursuing her course in that direction, then, we will turn our attention to the state of the prisoners. Ghita and her uncle had been properly cared for all this time. The gunner's wife lived on board; and being a respectable woman, Cuffe had the delicacy to send the poor girl forward to the stateroom and mess of this woman. Her uncle was provided for near at hand; and as neither was considered in any degree criminal, it was the intention to put them ashore, as soon as it was certain that no information concerning the lugger was to be obtained from them. Ithuel was at duty again, having passed half the morning in the fore-top. The shore-boat, which was in the way on deck, was now struck into the water, and was towing astern, in waiting for the moment when Carlo Giuntotardi and his niece were to be put in possession of it again, and permitted to depart. This moment was delayed, however, until the ship should again double Campanella, and be once more in the Bay of Naples, as it would have been cruel to send two such persons as the uncle and niece adrift, at any material distance from their proper place of landing. It was very different with Raoul Yvard, however. He was under the charge of a sentry on the berth-deck, in waiting for the fearful moment when he should be brought forth for execution. His sentence was generally known in the ship, and with a few he was an object of interest; though punishment, deaths in battle, and all the other casualties of nautical life, were much too familiar in such a war to awaken anything like a sensation in an active cruising frigate. Still, some had a thought for the prisoner's situation. Winchester was a humane man, and, to his credit, he bore no malice for his own defeat and sufferings, while, in his capacity of first-lieutenant, it was in his power to do much towards adding to the comfort of the condemned. He had placed the prisoner between two open ports, where the air circulated freely, no trifling consideration in so warm a climate, and had ordered a canvass bulk-head to be placed around him, giving Raoul the benefit of a state-room for his meditations at so awful a moment. His irons, too, had been removed, as useless; though care had been taken to remove from the prisoner everything by which he might attempt his own life. The probability of his jumping through a port had been discussed between the first and second lieutenants; but the sentry was admonished to be on his guard against any such attempt; and little apprehension was felt, Raoul being so composed, and so unlikely to do anything precipitately. Then, it would be easy to pick him up while the vessel moved so slowly. To own the truth, too, many would prefer his drowning himself than to see him swinging at a yard-arm. In this narrow prison, then, Raoul passed the night and morning. It would be representing him as more stoical than the truth, if we said he was unmoved. So far from this, his moments The Jack O'Lantern. 20 were bitter, and his anguish would have been extreme were it not for a high resolution which prompted him to die, as he fancied it, like un Français. The numerous executions by the guillotine had brought fortitude, under such circumstances, into a sort of fashion, and there were few who did not meet death with decorum. With our prisoner, however, it was still different; for, sustained by a dauntless spirit, he would have faced the great tyrant of the race, even in his most ruthless mood, with firmness, if not with disdain. But to a young man and a lover, the last great change could not well approach without bringing with it a feeling of hopelessness which, in the case of Raoul, was unrelieved by any cheering expectations for the future. He fully believed his doom to be sealed, and that less on account of his imaginary offence as a spy, than on account of the known and extensive injuries he had done to the English commerce. Raoul was a good hater; and according to the fashion of past times, which we apprehend, in spite of a vast deal of equivocal philanthropy now circulating freely from mouth to mouth and from pen to pen, will continue to be the fashion of times to come, he heartily disliked the people with whom he was at war, and consequently was ready to believe anything to their prejudice which political rivalry might invent; a frame of mind which led him to think his life would be viewed as a trifle when put in the scales against English ascendancy or English profit. He was accustomed to think of the people of Great Britain as a "nation of shopkeepers," and while engaged himself in a calling that bears the brand of rapacity on its very brow, he looked upon his own pursuit as comparatively martial and honourable; qualities, in sooth, it was far from being without as he himself had exercised its functions. In a word, Raoul understood Cuffe as little as Cuffe understood him; facts, that will sufficiently appear in the interview which it has now become our office to relate. The prisoner received one or two friendly visits in the course of the morning; Griffin, in particular, conceiving it to be his duty to try to cheer the condemned man, on account of his own knowledge of foreign tongues. On these occasions the conversation was prevented from falling into anything like the sombre by the firmness of the prisoner's manner. With a view to do the thing handsomely, Winchester had caused the canvass bulk-head to include the guns on each side, which of course gave more air and light within the narrow apartment, as it brought both ports into the little room. Raoul adverted to this circumstance, as, seated on one stool, he invited Griffin, in the last of his visits, to take another. "You find me, here, supported by a piece of eighteen on each side," observed the prisoner, smiling, "as becomes a seaman who is about to die. Were my death to come from the mouths of your cannon, Monsieur Lieutenant, it would only meet me a few months, or perhaps a few days sooner than it might happen by the same mode, in the ordinary course of events.” "We know how to feeel for a brave man in your situation," answered Griffin, with emotion; "and nothing would make us all happier than to have it as you say; you in a good warm frigate, on our broadside, and we in this of our own, contending fairly for the honour of our respective countries." "Monsieur, the fortune of war has ordered it otherwise; but you are not seated, Monsieur Lieutenant." "Mon pardon; Captain Cuffe has sent me to request you will favour him with your company in his cabin, as soon as it may be agreeable to yourself, Monsieur Yvard." There is something in the polished expressions of the French language that would have rendered it difficult for Griffin to have been other than delicate in his communications with the prisoner, had he been so disposed; but such was not his inclination; for, now that their gallant adversary was at their mercy, all the brave men in the Proserpine felt a disposition to deal tenderly with him. Raoul was touched with these indications of generosity; and, as he had witnessed Griffin's spirit in the different attempts made on his lugger, it inclined him to think better of his foes. Rising, he professed his readiness to attend the Captain, at that very moment. Cuffe was waiting in the after-cabin. When Griffin and the prisoner entered he courteously requested both to be seated, the former being invited to remain, not only as a witness of what might occur, but to act as interpreter in case of need. A short pause succeeded, and then the Captain opened the dialogue, which was |