r. I've been in
several engagements like that, and my messmates always seemed to feel
just as I did. You see, they'd got it to do, sir, and we always felt
that it was only mounseers that we'd got to beat and captur' their ship;
and then as soon as we had begun, whether we was crews of guns, stripped
and firing away, or answering the orders to board, why, then we never
had time to feel afraid."

"What, not when you saw your messmates shot down beside you?" cried
Rodd.

"My word, no, sir!" cried Joe, laughing. "We none of us felt afraid
then; it only made us feel wild and want to sarve the other side out.
No, sir," continued the bluff fallow, in a quiet matter-of-fact way, and
his voice utterly free of vaunt, "whether it's a sea-fight or things are
going wrong in a storm, we sailor fellows are always too busy to feel
afraid. You see, I think, sir, it has something to do with the drill
and discipline, as they calls it, training the lads all to work
together. You see, it makes them feel so strong."

"I can't say I do see," said Rodd.

"No, sir, because you haven't been drilled; but it's like this 'ere.
One man's one man, and a hundred men's a hundred men--no, stop; that
aren't quite what I mean. It aren't in my way, Mr Rodd, sir; I never
was a beggar to argue. The fat Bun can easily beat me at that. This
'ere's what I mean. One man's one man, and a hundred men's a hundred
one men. That's if they aren't drilled and trained like sailors or
soldiers; but if they are trained, you see each one man feels as if he
has got a hundred men with him all working together, and con-se-quently,
sir, every chap aboard feels as if he's as strong as a hundred men. Now
don't you see, sir?"

"Well, yes," said Rodd quietly; "I think I begin to see what you mean."

"Why, of course you do, sir. Say it's heaving a boat aboard, and it
takes twenty men to do it. Why, if they go and try one at a time, where
are you? But if you all go and take hold together, and your officer
says to you, `Now, my lads, with a will, all together! Heave ho!' why
then, up she comes. Well now, I do call that rum! Look at that, sir.
If here aren't the old man, just as if he had heard what we was talking
about, passing the word for gun drill, or else a bit of knicketty knock
with the cutlasses and pikes!"

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

A STRANGE VISITOR.

Upon hearing Joe Cross's announcement Rodd eagerly turned, to find his
uncle just coming on deck to