er, and
between the two extremes there's a pretty extensive choice of
washin'-tubs, but the equal o' this here _Buss_ I never did see--no
never; take another haul on the foretops'l halyards, boys, and shut your
potato-traps for fear the wind blows your teeth overboard. Look alive!"

That the _Buss_ deserved the character so emphatically given to her was
proved by the fact that, after an unsuccessful attempt to reach the
Sound, she was finally run into Dartmouth Roads, and, shortly
afterwards, her ungainly tossings, for that season, came to a close.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE LAST CAMPAIGN--AND VICTORY!

The campaign of 1759 opened on the 3rd of July with an attack commanded
by Smeaton in person in the old _Buss_.

Previous to this, on March 21st, the coast was visited by a gale of such
severity that immense mischief was done on shore. Ships in the port,
houses, etcetera, at Plymouth, were greatly damaged; nevertheless, the
unfinished tower out upon the exposed Eddystone reef stood fast, having
defied the utmost fury of winds and waves.

It was found, however, that some loss had been sustained, the buoy of
the mooring chain, as usual, was gone; but worse than that, one of the
stones left in the store-room, a mass which weighed four and a half
hundredweight, was missing. It had been washed out of the store-room
entry by the water!

This was a serious loss, as it obliged the men to retire to the _Buss_,
where they were constrained to spin yarns and twirl their thumbs in
idleness till the lost stone was replaced by another. Then they went to
work according to custom "with a will," and, on the 21st of July,
completed the second floor; a whole room with a vaulted roof having been
built in seven days.

At this point they proceeded to fit in the entry and store-room doors;
and here another vexatious check appeared imminent. It was found that
the block-tin with which the door-hooks were to be fastened had been
forgotten!

Doubtless Mr Smeaton felt inclined to emulate the weather by "storming"
on this occasion, but that would have been of no use. Neither was it of
any avail that Teddy Maroon scratched his head and wrinkled his visage
like that of a chimpanzee monkey. The tin _was_ not; the hooks would
not hold without it, and to send ashore for it would have involved great
delay. Mr Smeaton proved equal to the occasion.

"Off with you, lads, to the _Buss_," he cried, "and bring hither every
pewter plate and di