atchway, feebly enough, I confess, but with
good cheer, and stood on the deck of the _Arrow_.

The coast of Donegal was clear over our stern, and a smart breeze from
the east filled our sails and sent us spanking through the water.

The skipper was sitting aft, pipe in mouth, and waiting for me. I
resolved to take the bold course and not wait to be spoken to.

"The top of the morning to you, captain," said I, saluting; "and it's
well you're looking since you were at my mother's wake."

He stared at me, and then seemed to understand.

"You--you are Gallagher's boy, then?"

"The same, captain," said I; "and I'm obliged to you for this day's
food."

"Gallagher was no friend of mine," said he; "but since he is dead, that
shall not be against you, if you sail with me."

"Dead!" I exclaimed. "Is my father dead?"

"The _Cigale_ went down off Foreland Head a month since."

"And Tim, my brother, was he drowned?"

"Likely enough, if he was aboard. Only two of the crew escaped.--So you
sail under my orders?"

"I have nothing else to do," said I.

"You may swing at the yard-arm, if you prefer it," said he.

"Thanking you all the same, I'll sail where I am," said I.

So, with a very heavy heart, I found myself one of the crew of the
_Arrow_.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE GUARD-HOUSE AT BREST.

Captain Cochin--for so the commander of the _Arrow_ styled himself,
though I always had my doubts whether he had any right to one title or
the other--was too well aware of the value of his cargo to risk it in
pursuing his ordinary calling of a pirate on the present voyage. So he
stood well out to sea, ostentatiously flying the English flag, and
giving friendly salutes to any chance vessels that came in his course.

"_Parbleu_!" said he, "England owes me one debt for taking the guns away
from those who would have used them against her, and selling them to my
poor countrymen, who will use them against one another. But there is no
gratitude in England, and if I want payment I must help myself. But not
this voyage--by-and-by."

As for me, the joy I should have felt at finding myself free and at sea
was damped by the news of the loss of the _Cigale_, and with it, of my
father and Tim. The hope of seeing Tim again had kept me in heart
during many a trouble and danger, and now I felt more alone than ever.

In the whole world, except Con the dog, there was left me but one
friend; and she, if she ever thought of me, did