he fleet with flowing sheets was steering to the westward. The
_Champion_, hauling her wind, stood out from among them.

"The commodore suspects the stranger to be an enemy," observed the
commander to Mr Foley. A look-out with sharp eyes was sent aloft, to
report as soon as the sail indicated by the frigate should appear in
sight. She was before long seen, and was evidently a large ship
standing to the north-west, a course which would bring her up to the
convoy.

"We must have a nearer look at her," said the commander; "she is more
probably a friend than an enemy."

"Two other sail," cried the look-out from aloft, "following in the wake
of the first."

Still the corvette, according to orders, stood on. As she approached
the stranger, the commander changed his opinion.

"They are Frenchmen," he observed to his first lieutenant; "we'll keep
away and run back to the commodore. If, as I suspect, all three are
frigates, or perhaps larger craft, we shall have to bring them to action
and allow the convoy to escape."

The announcement caused considerable excitement on board. "We shall
probably be in action before the day is out," cried Gerald, as he went
into the midshipmen's berth, "and have pretty hot work, too, if the
Frenchmen show any pluck."

"The best news I've heard for many a day," said old Crowhurst.
"Notwithstanding all I've done for my country, it's the only chance I
have of getting promoted."

"I don't see how that's to be," said Gerald; "mates are not often
mentioned in despatches."

"But if a happy shot were to knock either of our superiors on the head,
I should obtain the rank I merit," replied the mate. "For that matter,
I've seen service enough and done deeds sufficient to deserve being made
a commander or post-captain."

"Long life to you, Captain Crowhurst!" exclaimed Gerald. "If I was a
Lord of the Admiralty I'd promote you to-day and superannuate you
to-morrow. I don't suppose the service would be greatly the loser."

"That youngster requires a cobbing," said Beater, who perceived what the
other did not, that Gerald was laughing at him; and he pulled out his
cob, prepared to inflict condign punishment.

"Now don't, till the action's over," said Gerald, getting ready to make
his exit from the berth; "then, if the enemy's shot hasn't taken either
of our heads off, you'll be welcome to do what you like--if you can
catch me--and I don't intend that you should do that same just now;" and