harbour, round by Saint Helen's, and stood down Channel in search
of a smuggling craft, of whose movements the Commander had received
notice.

I found my uncle, on further acquaintance, to be what his looks
betokened him, a thoroughly honest, hearty sailor. His first officer
was a very old mate who had long given up all hopes of promotion in the
service. He was married; and his wife and family lived near Portsmouth.
His name was John Hanks. There was a second master and a clerk in
charge; so that, for a cutter, we made up an unusually large mess. We
had no surgeon, as we could always run into harbour if any of us
required doctoring.

My uncle, who was a poor man, had taken the command of the cutter for
the sake of his wife and family; and when I came to know my sweet young
aunt, I felt, with her smiles to welcome him when he got home,
Lieutenant O'Flaherty was a happier man far than many who roll in their
easy carriages about the streets of smoky London.

Mrs O'Flaherty, with the two children she then had, lived in a pretty
little cottage near Ryde, where he was able every now and then to go and
see her. Of course he was never wanting in an excuse, when duty would
allow him, to be off Ryde; and on one of these occasions he first
introduced me to his wife. I loved her at once, for she was a
thoroughly genuine, graceful woman, young and pretty, with a kind, warm
heart, and a sweet expression of countenance, which her character did
not belie. My little cousins and I also became great friends, and I
confess that I felt I would much rather stay with her than have to go to
sea and knock about in all weathers in the cutter; but duty sent us both
on board again, and it was a long time before I had another opportunity
of paying a visit to Daisy Cottage.

But I have been going ahead of my narrative.

We were standing down Channel in the _Serpent_. Our cruising ground was
chiefly from Saint Helen's to the Start; but we were liable to be sent
elsewhere, or might go wherever our Commander had notice there was a
chance of catching a smuggler.

We had been out some days, keeping a sharp look-out off Portland Point
for a noted fellow, Myers by name, the owner of a fast lugger, the
_Kitty_, who was expected to try and run a cargo of tubs in that
neighbourhood.

The smugglers played us all sorts of tricks, and I must own we were more
than once taken in by them. On one occasion, while it was blowing very
fresh, a cutter