it, hoping before long to get back to my family, and be able to
assist my father. And now to be cut down by my own countrymen, for it
was a shot from the battery on shore which wounded me. It is more than
I can bear!"

"Don't think about it," said Bill; "you are safe from further harm, and
will be well taken care of; and when you have recovered, and the war is
over, you will be able to go back. I must leave you now, but I will
come and see you as often as I can. I have placed the jug of lemonade
close to your head, where it cannot slip. When that is gone I will get
some more; it is the best thing you can take at present."

Saying this, Bill hurried back to attend to his duty on deck, for, young
as he was, as the prize was short-handed, he had plenty of work to do.
Several times he passed Mr Saltwell, who gave him a kind look or said a
word or two of encouragement, but did not allude to the service Bill had
done him.

"He probably has forgotten all about my having shot the French
boatswain," thought Bill. "I only did my duty, and if anybody else had
been in his place I should have done the same."

The frigate and her fresh prize were meantime making the best of their
way across the Channel. As the latter, a fast sailor, was not
materially injured, all sail was made on her, and she kept good way with
the _Thisbe_. At the same time there was still the risk of either one
or both being taken by a French ship of superior force, though neither
was likely to yield without making every effort to escape. A constant
look-out was kept from the mast-head, but as the ships got farther and
farther from the French coast, the hope of escaping without having again
to fight increased.

Several sail were seen in the distance, but it was supposed that they
were either merchantmen, standing up or down Channel, in spite of the
enemy's cruisers on the watch to pick them up, or privateers, and,
seeing that the _Thisbe_ was a frigate, took good care to keep out of
her way.

At length the entrance to Plymouth Sound was descried, and the _Thisbe_
and her prize stood up it triumphantly with colours flying, creating
considerable astonishment at her quick return with another capture.
Both were soon moored in Hamoaze, when the _Atlante_, a fine little
ship, carrying twenty guns on one deck, was handed over to the prize
agents with the full expectation that she would be bought into the
service. The prisoners were carried on shore, the